#and if it can help someone else then it's a double win

[goldfades]

who else decodes you? / who's gonna know you, if not me? / and who's gonna hold you like me? / no-fucking-body / so tell me, who else is gonna know me? | joe burrow⁹ (part one)

part two!!!!!

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⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 7.5k

⟢ ┈ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦��𝐫𝐲 | you and joe had been inseparable since LSU, with him promising you everything—a dream home and a life together. everything felt perfect during your golden days, but as time passed, things shifted, and the cracks began to show in your once-perfect relationship

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | angst... just straight up angst. asshole-y joe, lots of fighting, reader being a trophy wife, just real sad things im sorry i wrote this yall. NO happy ending in this part, part 2 will have a happy ending dw guys!!!

You met Joe Burrow before the world did.

Before the Heisman, before the draft, before his name carried weight outside of Athens, Ohio. Before the sleek suits, the Cartier glasses, the endless debates about whether he was the next great quarterback of his generation. Before all of that, he was just Joe. Your Joe.

The one who texted you goodnight from his twin bed in his childhood home, the one who took you to McDonald’s after late-night practices because that’s all he could afford. The one who kissed you in the front seat of his beat-up truck, hands a little rough from lifting weights but gentle when they held your face.

You were there for it all.

Through the transfer to LSU, when he was just a backup with something to prove. Through the championship season, where he turned into a legend overnight. Through the draft, when you held his hand so tightly your knuckles turned white, waiting for the moment his name would be called. Through the move to Cincinnati, where you learned the ins and outs of being an NFL girlfriend—then an NFL wife in everything but title.

You never needed the ring to prove your place beside him. Not at first.

Because when you love someone for that long, when you’ve been there since day one, you assume you’ll be there forever. You assume that one day, when the time is right, you’ll walk down the aisle and he’ll be standing at the end of it. That the same boy who once promised you the world in a whisper under Louisiana stars would eventually make good on it.

But love isn’t always enough.

And timing? Timing has a cruel way of making a fool out of you.

Before the waiting, before the uncertainty—there was LSU.

The golden days.

The kind of love people wrote songs about, the kind that burned so bright it felt untouchable, invincible. You and Joe had been through the trenches of college life together—cheap dates, sleepless nights, long drives in his old truck where he talked about the future like it was already written in the stars.

Joe had always been a planner. He didn’t just dream���he mapped things out, broke them down into plays, like a game he knew he would win. And in every version of the future he spoke about, you were in it.

“I’m gonna make it,” he told you one night, lying in the back of his truck, staring at the Baton Rouge sky like it held all his answers. The air was thick with humidity, cicadas singing in the distance, but neither of you cared. You were twenty, wildly in love, and the world hadn’t touched you yet. “I don’t care how long it takes, or how many people doubt me—I’m making it to the league.”

You smiled, running a hand through his hair. “I never doubted that.”

Joe turned then, propped himself up on an elbow, his sharp, determined eyes softening as he looked at you. “And when I do, I’m gonna give you everything.”

It wasn’t just a promise. It was a declaration.

Not just any ring—a rock. One that would catch the light from across the room, the kind that would make strangers do a double take. Not just any house—your dream home, the one you’d always wanted but never thought possible.

You had told him, once, in passing, the kind of house you loved. You were scrolling on your phone, lying with your feet in his lap, showing him a picture of a home that looked straight out of a magazine.

“That,” you had said, tapping the screen. “That’s the dream.”

White exterior, big windows—floor-to-ceiling in the living room, so the sunlight would pour in every morning. A wrap-around porch, because you always loved the idea of sitting outside with a glass of wine on summer nights. A kitchen with the biggest island imaginable, because you loved to cook, even if Joe barely trusted himself to make toast. A cozy sunroom, filled with mismatched chairs and overflowing bookshelves. A clawfoot bathtub in the master bath, where you could soak for hours after a long day.

Joe had barely glanced at the picture before he said, “Done.”

You laughed. “Joe, that house is like… five million dollars.”

“So?” He had smirked, cocky and confident in that way only he could pull off. “Give me a couple years.”

You shook your head, amused, but deep down, you believed him. You believed him because when Joe Burrow set his mind to something, it happened.

And when you asked, jokingly, what kind of dog he wanted, he just scoffed.

“Dogs? No. We’re gonna have like, eight cats.”

You snorted. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” He stretched out, hands behind his head, already painting the picture in his mind. “They’ll have dumb names, too. Like, I don’t know… Fettuccine. Or Tuxedo. Or—oh—Larry.”

“Larry?”

“Yeah. Larry’s gonna be the ringleader.”

You shook your head, laughing so hard you had to wipe tears from your eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”

Joe just grinned, pulling you in, pressing a kiss to your temple. “You love me.”

And you did. God, you did.

You loved him through the highs—the Heisman win, the national championship, the night he got drafted when you held his face in your hands and told him this is it, baby. This is everything you worked for.

You loved him through the lows—when he tore his ACL his rookie year and sat in silence for hours, devastated, gripping your hand so tight it went numb. When the pressure of the league weighed heavy on him and he retreated inward, needing space, needing you to be his anchor without him ever having to say it.

You loved him because he was Joe.

Because he was the boy who once whispered about forever under Louisiana stars, who promised you a rock, a dream house, and eight cats named Larry and Fettuccine.

Because you believed, back then, that promises were made to be kept.

--

It started small.

A casual comment, barely even a question, when you were knee-deep in cardboard boxes in your new Cincinnati apartment. You’d been together for years by then, had already lived together in Baton Rouge, but this—this felt different. More permanent. He was the face of a franchise now, the golden boy of an entire city. And you? You were the woman who had been by his side through it all.

So when you held up a framed photo—one of the two of you from his LSU days, his arm wrapped around you, both of you grinning like you had the whole world ahead of you—you said it without thinking.

“Guess we’ll need some wedding pictures to put up soon, huh?”

It was light, teasing, the same way you’d joked about it a hundred times before. But this time, Joe didn’t laugh. He didn’t even smile.

He just exhaled through his nose, set down the box he was carrying, and ran a hand through his hair.

“I’m still adjusting to all this,” he said, gesturing vaguely at the apartment, the city, the new life he was stepping into. “Let’s just… settle in first.”

You told yourself it made sense.

Joe had always been slow to process change. He liked routine, predictability. He had just gone from college quarterback to the number-one draft pick, from playing in front of thousands to playing in front of millions. If he needed time, you’d give it to him.

And so you did.

You poured yourself into the role of supportive girlfriend, the unwavering presence behind the scenes. You went to every game, wore his jersey, kept your social media lowkey even when the WAGs of the league started reaching out. You made sure home felt like a safe haven for him—a place where he wasn’t Joe Burrow, NFL quarterback, but just Joe.

Months passed. Then a year. Then two.

And still, nothing.

You tried to be patient. You tried not to compare. But it was impossible not to notice when guys who had been in the league half as long as Joe were proposing to their girlfriends. When you went to team events and saw wives flashing diamond rings, their hands resting on their husbands’ arms like they belonged there. When your own friends started getting married, settling down, building the life you always thought you and Joe were working toward.

You weren’t the kind of girl who begged for a ring. That wasn’t you. That wasn’t why you loved him. But you also weren’t stupid.

So, one night, after a Bengals win, when it was just the two of you curled up on the couch—Joe half-asleep, his head resting on your thigh—you ran your fingers through his hair and asked,

“Do you ever think about it?”

His eyes cracked open slightly. “Think about what?”

“Marriage.”

The word hung in the air between you, heavy in a way that made your stomach tighten.

Joe didn’t sit up, didn’t tense. But he also didn’t answer right away. He just stared at the ceiling, his fingers drumming lightly against your leg.

“Yeah,” he said finally. “I think about it.”

That was it. No elaboration. No follow-up.

And maybe it was the years of knowing him, of reading between the lines of what he didn’t say, but something about his tone sent a cold prickle down your spine.

You swallowed. “And?”

Joe sighed, shifting so he was looking up at you fully. His face was tired, drawn, the way it always was after a game.

“I love you,” he said first, because Joe always led with love, even when he was about to disappoint you. “I just don’t know if I’m… ready for all that.”

All that. Like marriage was some heavy, unbearable thing. Like it was a burden, instead of the only thing you’d ever wanted with him.

But you didn’t push. You never pushed.

You just nodded, kissed his forehead, and told yourself that he just needed more time.

You’d already given him years. What was a little longer?

For every golden memory, there was a night that ended with you crying into your pillow, your chest aching from the weight of words left unheard.

And Joe was never the type to yell.

That was the problem.

You could scream, slam cabinets, cry until your eyes were swollen, beg him to just say something—but Joe would sit there, jaw clenched, eyes locked on some invisible point in the distance. Silent. Stone-faced. Like he was waiting for a storm to pass rather than standing in the middle of it with you.

And when he was done listening, when he decided he had nothing to say, he’d just walk away.

No slammed doors. No cruel words. Just an exhale through his nose and the slow, deliberate sound of his footsteps leaving the room.

Then came the silence.

Hours, sometimes days, where he wouldn’t touch you, wouldn’t look at you, wouldn’t acknowledge the way you curled up on your side of the bed, arms wrapped around yourself because if he wouldn’t hold you, you had to do it yourself.

It always started the same way.

Joe had never been a selfish person—at least, not intentionally. He loved you, worshipped you in his own quiet way. But he was also a man who had spent his entire life being taken care of.

First by his parents. Then by his coaches. Then by you.

At first, it hadn’t bothered you. You wanted to take care of him, because loving Joe Burrow meant making sure he ate real meals instead of surviving off protein shakes and granola bars. It meant picking up after him when he left his clothes on the floor, washing his jerseys so they always smelled like fresh detergent instead of sweat, keeping your home together while he threw every ounce of himself into football.

But over time, something shifted.

The gestures that had once been acts of love started to feel expected. You would spend hours cooking his favorite meal, only for him to eat in front of the TV without so much as a thank you. You’d clean up after him like clockwork, while he’d scroll through his phone, oblivious to the way you were moving around him like a ghost. You handled the small things—the groceries, the laundry, the appointments—so he never had to think about them. And the worst part? He didn’t think about them.

He didn’t think about how exhausting it was to pour so much of yourself into another person and get nothing in return.

One night, after a long day where you’d cooked, cleaned, and ran errands while Joe came home from practice, showered, and immediately planted himself on the couch, something in you snapped.

You had been standing in the kitchen, scrubbing dishes, while Joe sat in the living room, watching game film, oblivious to the way your hands were trembling from frustration.

“Joe,” you called, trying to keep your voice steady.

He hummed, eyes still on the screen.

You turned off the faucet, wiping your hands on a dish towel. “Do you even see me anymore?”

That got his attention. His head lifted slightly, brows furrowing. “What?”

“Do you see me?” you repeated, voice shaking now. “Or am I just here? Like some… unpaid assistant who cooks your meals and cleans your shit and waits around for you to remember I exist?”

Joe blinked, clearly caught off guard. “What are you talking about?”

You laughed, but there was no humor in it. Just exhaustion. Frustration. A bubbling anger that had been simmering for months. “I do everything for you. And I never ask for anything in return. But you don’t even appreciate it, Joe. You don’t see it. You don’t see me.”

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Jesus, babe. I—look, I didn’t ask you to do all that.”

Your heart sank.

There it was. The knife, twisted so deep you almost doubled over from the pain of it.

You swallowed, eyes stinging. “You shouldn’t have to ask for basic effort.”

Joe exhaled sharply, pushing himself up from the couch. “I don’t have the energy for this right now.”

And then, just like always, he walked away.

The silence stretched for days.

No matter how loud you got, how many tears you shed, it never mattered.

Because Joe didn’t scream.

Joe shut down.

--

The restaurant was dimly lit, the kind of place where the wine was poured before you even asked and the waiters moved so seamlessly you barely noticed them. It was a Bengals event—one of those exclusive, high-end dinners meant to bring players and their partners together, a little PR, a little networking, all wrapped in the illusion of luxury. Normally, you didn’t mind them.

But tonight? Tonight, Joe was off.

He had been for weeks. Ever since the injury, ever since he had to watch his team play without him, it was like the weight of the world had settled on his shoulders and refused to budge. You had tried, God, you had tried—to comfort him, to give him space, to be exactly what he needed. But no matter what you did, it felt wrong.

He barely talked. Barely looked at you. And when he did, there was something in his eyes you couldn’t place.

Resentment?

Disappointment?

You didn’t know.

So you sat at the table, plastering on a smile, sipping your wine, pretending everything was fine as the conversation buzzed around you. Ja’Marr and his girlfriend, a few of the other guys, their partners. The usual crowd.

The joke started innocent enough.

“You’re literally the dream NFL WAG,” Ja’Marr’s girlfriend said, laughing as she leaned over toward you. “Like, you do everything for him. Cook, clean, go to every game. You’re basically the gold standard.”

The table chuckled.

You laughed, too, but there was something hollow about it. It wasn’t that the statement was wrong. It was just that… for the past few months, being Joe’s girlfriend hadn’t felt like a dream. It had felt like an uphill battle, like loving him was a test you were always on the verge of failing.

But before you could say anything, Joe scoffed.

Loudly.

The kind of sound that cut through the easy, playful atmosphere and made everyone shift in their seats.

You turned to him, confused, but Joe wasn’t looking at you. His jaw was clenched, his grip tight around the base of his glass.

“You think I don’t know that?” His voice was low, sharp, edged with something you couldn’t name.

The table went quiet.

Your stomach sank.

“Joe,” you said softly, placing a hand on his arm, but he pulled away, shaking his head.

“I need air.”

And just like that, he was on his feet, pushing back his chair, striding toward the exit without another word.

You barely hesitated before following.

The moment you stepped outside, the cold air hit you like a slap. The parking lot was mostly empty, save for a few blacked-out SUVs and a couple of lingering staff members. Joe was already a few steps ahead, his hands on his hips, breathing hard like he was trying to keep himself together.

You didn’t care. You weren’t going to let this go.

“What the hell was that?” you demanded, heels clicking against the pavement as you caught up to him.

Joe exhaled sharply, tilting his head back toward the sky. “I don’t wanna do this right now.”

“No. No.” You grabbed his arm, forcing him to look at you. “You don’t get to humiliate me in front of everyone and then walk away like nothing happened.”

Joe turned then, eyes flashing with something you had never seen before. Rage.

“You think I don’t know?” His voice was louder now, cutting through the night air, his face twisted in frustration. “You think I don’t fucking see the way you take care of everything? How perfect you are? How much you do for me?”

Your breath hitched. This wasn’t the first time you’d fought, not even close. But this was different.

This was Joe shouting.

He never shouted.

“You think I don’t know how much you’ve sacrificed? How much you’ve had to deal with while I sit on the fucking sidelines, watching my team play without me?” His hands were in his hair now, voice cracking under the weight of it all. “You think I don’t feel like a goddamn failure every second of every day? That I don’t fucking hate myself for it?”

Your chest tightened. “Joe—”

“I get it, okay?” His voice was hoarse, his breathing heavy. “I get it. I don’t deserve you. I don’t deserve any of this.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

The silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating.

Then, finally, you swallowed hard, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I never said that.”

Joe looked at you then, really looked at you. And for the first time in weeks, maybe months, you saw it.

The exhaustion. The fear. The guilt.

And underneath it all, something else. Something raw and painful and impossible to ignore.

“I can’t do this,” he said suddenly, shaking his head, stepping back. “Not tonight.”

Your stomach dropped. “Joe.”

But he was already turning away.

Already leaving.

And for the first time, you didn’t go after him.

Time, though, has a funny way of making fools out of people.

Because a little longer turned into another year. And another.

And soon, you weren’t just the girlfriend who had been with Joe since before the fame. You were the girlfriend who was still waiting. The one people whispered about at games, in comment sections, in DMs you tried not to read.

Why hasn’t he proposed yet? If he wanted to marry her, he would’ve by now. She’s been with him forever. That’s kinda embarrassing.

You weren’t stupid. You heard the whispers. You ignored them, brushed them off, laughed about them with Joe like they didn’t sting.

But deep down, they did.

And then, one night, you cracked.

It wasn’t planned. You weren’t trying to pick a fight. You were just lying in bed beside Joe, scrolling mindlessly on your phone, when an engagement post popped up on your feed. Another NFL couple. Another ring. Another reminder.

You set your phone down. Turned toward Joe, who was staring at the ceiling like he always did when he couldn’t sleep.

“Joe,” you said softly.

He hummed in response, eyes still fixed upward.

“Are you ever going to marry me?”

The words weren’t sharp. They weren’t bitter. Just quiet. Tired.

Joe closed his eyes. Let out a slow breath. And in that moment, you already knew the answer.

Not yet. Not now. I need more time.

The same thing he’d been saying for years.

But this time, you weren’t sure you could keep waiting.

--

It didn’t happen in one moment. It wasn’t a clean break, a single conversation where you both sat down, acknowledged the inevitable, and walked away like two people who had outgrown each other.

No, it was ugly. It was heartbreaking. It was loud.

It started in the living room, the place that had once been your sanctuary. The place where you curled up on the couch together after long days, where you laid your head on his lap while he absentmindedly played with your hair, where he kissed you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

But tonight, it was a battleground.

You stood near the coffee table, arms wrapped around yourself like you were trying to keep from falling apart, while Joe paced in front of the fireplace, his hands tangled in his hair. His face was flushed, his breathing uneven, his entire body radiating frustration. But under it—under the anger, the exhaustion—was something else.

Defeat.

“We can’t keep doing this,” Joe muttered, voice low but strained, like it physically hurt him to say it out loud.

Your stomach twisted. “Doing what?”

“This!” He gestured between the two of you, his voice louder now, raw with emotion. “The fighting, the tension, the constant feeling that no matter what I do, I’m letting you down.”

You flinched, because that wasn’t fair.

He wasn’t letting you down—he was shutting you out. Pushing you away, piece by piece, until you barely recognized the man standing in front of you.

And yet, despite it all, you still wanted to fight.

You needed to fight.

“Joe, you haven’t even tried—”

His laugh was hollow, sharp. “Tried? Are you kidding me?” He shook his head, running a frustrated hand down his face. “I have been trying for months. Trying to be what you need, trying to hold this shit together while I feel like I’m losing everything.”

Your throat tightened. “I never asked you to hold it together alone.”

He looked at you then, and the pain in his eyes nearly brought you to your knees.

“I know.” His voice cracked. “And that’s the worst fucking part.”

You felt like you couldn’t breathe.

Because suddenly, you saw it—the breaking point. The moment where all the fights, all the silences, all the nights spent lying in the same bed but feeling miles apart had led to.

This was it.

You swallowed, hard. “Joe… don’t do this.”

His jaw clenched. “I don’t know how to be what you need anymore.”

“I don’t need you to be anything—I just need you to try,” you choked out, hot tears spilling over your cheeks.

“I am trying!” His voice cracked, his hands gripping his hair like he was barely holding himself together. “But I’m not enough for you! And I don’t think I ever will be!”

The words hit like a physical blow.

Your breath hitched, and for a second, everything blurred—your vision, your thoughts, reality itself. Because how could he say that? How could he look at you, after everything, and think he wasn’t enough?

He had always been enough.

He had been everything.

Your chest heaved, your heart splintering, but you forced yourself to take a step forward, reaching for him like you had so many times before.

But this time, Joe stepped back.

Like touching you would break him completely.

Like it already had.

A sob ripped through your throat. “Joe, please—”

His eyes were glassy now, his own tears threatening to fall. But his face was set, his hands shaking at his sides.

“This isn’t working anymore.” His voice was barely above a whisper, but it cut through you like a blade.

And just like that, the world tilted.

You had imagined a lot of worst-case scenarios over the past few months—imagined nights where he would sleep on the couch, imagined him needing time apart, even imagined him telling you he wasn’t ready for marriage yet.

But this?

This was never supposed to happen.

He was supposed to fight.

He was supposed to love you enough to stay.

But instead, Joe exhaled shakily, like this was killing him too, and took another step back.

Like he had already made his decision.

Like he was already gone.

And then, through the unbearable tightness in your throat, through the tears blurring your vision, you said the only thing you could.

“What about everything you promised me?”

His face broke. Just for a second.

And then, softer than you’d ever heard him, he whispered, “I meant every word.”

And still, he turned away. Still, he walked to the door, grabbed his keys, and hesitated for only a second before pulling it open.

And you stood there, frozen in time, watching as the love of your life—the boy who once promised you forever under Louisiana stars—walked out of your life like he had never meant to stay.

The door clicked shut.

The silence that followed was deafening.

It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real.

Your legs gave out before you even realized you were falling. You collapsed onto the couch, hands clutching your chest as if that would somehow stop the pain, as if pressing hard enough could keep your heart from shattering.

But it did.

Piece by piece. And Joe?

Joe was gone.

--

Joe wasn’t sure when it started.

The feeling had been creeping up on him for months—slow at first, like a whisper in the back of his mind, something he could ignore if he kept moving, if he kept winning.

But then he got hurt.

And suddenly, there was nowhere to run.

No game to prepare for, no film to study, no Sunday nights under the lights where he could lose himself in the only thing that had ever made him feel like enough.

He had always known you were out of his league. Everyone did.

You were a force—bright and untouchable, the kind of woman who could walk into a room and have everyone wrapped around your finger without even trying. You were loved in ways Joe had never been. Not because of what you did, not because of your talent or your career, but just because of who you were.

And Joe?

Joe was… Joe.

He had worked for everything. Clawed his way to the top, gritted his teeth through every setback, played with a chip on his shoulder so sharp it could cut. He had spent his entire life proving people wrong, showing them he was worth it, and still, sometimes it felt like it wasn’t enough.

But not with you. At least, not at first.

At first, you had looked at him like he was someone special—not because of football, not because he was Joe Burrow, but because he was yours. And for a while, that had been enough.

But then the marriage thing came up.

Then the quiet expectation that he was supposed to take the next step, that he was supposed to be ready.

And fuck, he wanted to be.

He wanted to put a ring on your finger, wanted to build a life with you, wanted to buy you the house you dreamed about and fill it with all the stupid cats he promised you back at LSU.

But the more you pushed, the more it felt like he was already failing.

You deserved the world, and he—he wasn’t sure he knew how to give it to you. You had grown up with love. Joe had grown up with pressure.

Your family adored you, your friends would kill for you, strangers on the internet called you an angel, and the worst part? They were right.

You were perfect. You were kind, and patient, and you gave so much of yourself without ever asking for anything in return—until, eventually, you did.

Until you started looking at him like you needed something more.

And maybe that’s when it started.

The resentment. The guilt.

The way he began shutting down because every time he looked at you, he saw someone who had given him everything, and all he could do was hold it in his hands and wonder when he was going to drop it.

So he pulled away.

And then he got injured. And then it got worse.

Because for the first time in his life, Joe had nothing to offer.

Football was gone. He was stuck on the sidelines, watching his teammates play without him, watching the world move forward while he stood still. And every time he came home, there you were—beautiful and untouchable and looking at him with so much love, and God, it made him want to rip his fucking hair out.

Because you weren’t supposed to love him like that.

Not when he was like this. Not when he felt like nothing.

And so, he made himself nothing to you.

He let the silence stretch between you, let the fights spiral into something he couldn’t control, let the guilt eat him alive until the only option left was to let you go.

Not because he wanted to. Not because he didn’t love you.

But because he loved you too much to keep being a disappointment.

Because you were everything. And he was just him.

--

Joe barely remembered the drive to Ja’Marr’s house.

The roads were dark and wet from rain, the city quiet in the way it only got after midnight, and yet everything inside him was loud. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, his hands gripped the wheel so tight his knuckles were white, and his breath came in short, uneven bursts, like his body was still trying to catch up to what had just happened.

He had left.

He had actually left.

The second Ja’Marr opened the door, his easygoing expression dropped. “Shit.”

Joe must have looked as bad as he felt.

Ja’Marr didn’t ask questions, didn’t crack a joke or act like this was nothing. He just stepped aside, letting Joe in without a word.

Joe walked past him, straight to the couch, sinking down like his body couldn’t hold him up anymore. His hands were still shaking. He stared at them, trying to steady his breath, but the more he tried to push it down, the worse it got.

He felt like he was imploding.

Ja’Marr sat across from him, elbows on his knees. “You good?”

Joe huffed out something that was supposed to be a laugh but came out broken.

“No,” he admitted.

And then, just like that, the weight of it all came crashing down.

He broke.

For the first time in years, maybe ever, Joe let himself feel it.

His shoulders caved, his head fell into his hands, and before he could stop himself, a sob tore through his chest. It wasn’t quiet, wasn’t controlled—it was raw, guttural, the kind of grief that sat heavy in his ribcage and made him feel like he was drowning.

Ja’Marr swore under his breath, rubbing a hand over his face. “Damn, man.”

Joe couldn’t respond. He could barely breathe.

Because he had spent so long trying to convince himself this was the right thing—that letting you go was necessary, that it was better for you, that one day you’d understand—but now, sitting on his best friend’s couch, in a house that wasn’t his, without you, it hit him.

You weren’t in the next room.

You weren’t waiting for him to come back.

You weren’t his anymore.

And for the first time since he met you, since you were just a girl in his corner, since he was just a college quarterback with a dream—he was alone.

—

The house was silent.

The kind of silence that wasn’t peaceful, but hollow.

You stood in the middle of the living room, arms wrapped tightly around yourself, staring at the front door as if it would swing open at any second, as if Joe would walk back in, apologize, say he didn’t mean it.

But the house stayed empty.

You should’ve done something—gone to bed, taken a shower, moved—but you couldn’t.

Your body felt detached, like you were floating just outside of yourself, watching as the reality of what had happened settled into your bones.

He was gone.

You sucked in a shaky breath, your eyes darting around the room, landing on all the pieces of him he had left behind. His hoodie draped over the back of the couch. His sneakers kicked off near the door. The blanket you always fought over, still crumpled where he had last used it.

Your throat tightened.

It felt wrong.

How was it possible that someone could just leave, and yet everything still looked the same? How was it possible that the world hadn’t just stopped?

Your body moved before your mind could catch up.

You grabbed his hoodie, pulling it into your chest, clutching it so tightly your fingers ached. It still smelled like him—like his cologne, like home, like everything you were supposed to have forever.

A sharp, broken sob tore through you.

Your legs gave out.

You sank onto the floor, your body curling in on itself, gasping for air between sobs that didn’t seem to end.

You had imagined a million worst-case scenarios for your relationship, but you had never imagined this.

A fight, maybe. A bad one.

A few nights apart, maybe even a week.

But not this.

Not a house that suddenly felt too big, too cold, too wrong without him in it.

Not a silence that felt like it would swallow you whole.

Not an ending that you weren’t ready for.

Not Joe—your Joe—leaving, and not coming back.

Joe didn’t tell his parents right away.

He had gone weeks pretending it wasn’t real, pushing it down, acting like if he ignored it long enough, it wouldn’t hurt. Like the breakup was just another fight, another rough patch, and any second now, you’d come home.

But then spring rolled around, and he found himself back in Athens for a few days, sitting at his parents’ kitchen table, pushing food around his plate while his mom chatted about some wedding she had gone to.

He barely heard her—until she said your name.

“I just know she’ll look so beautiful at her own wedding one day,” Robin said, smiling like the thought made her happy. “Did she ever decide on a dress style? I remember she showed me a few options the last time we talked.”

Joe’s fork clattered against the plate.

His parents looked up.

The room suddenly felt too small. The walls too close. The weight in his chest unbearable.

“She’s not picking a dress,” he said flatly.

His mom’s smile faltered. “What do you mean?”

Joe exhaled sharply, staring at the table. His throat felt tight, his hands fisting in his lap. “We broke up.”

Silence.

Not the kind he was used to. Not the easy kind.

His dad was the first to speak. “When?”

“A while ago.” His voice was hoarse, his jaw tight.

Robin looked like he had just slapped her across the face. “Joe… what?”

She sounded hurt.

Like he had broken her heart, too.

“You didn’t tell us?”

Joe swallowed. “I didn’t know how.”

His mom was still frozen in shock. “But—why? What happened?”

Joe should have had an answer. He should have been able to give them some logical, concrete reason why the only real love he had ever known had just… ended.

But there wasn’t one. Not really.

So he just shook his head. “I wasn’t enough for her.”

His dad exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face. “Joe—”

Robin’s eyes filled with tears, and that—that was what finally did it. That was the moment it hit him, the moment the denial shattered and left nothing but cold, brutal truth in its place.

You were gone.

Not just for a few days.

Not just waiting for him to fix it.

You were gone.

Joe scraped his chair back so suddenly it screeched against the floor.

“I gotta go,” he muttered, standing up, hands shaking.

“Joe—”

“I just—I gotta go.”

And then he was out the door, out of the house, into his car, gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white.

His vision blurred. His chest caved in.

He sucked in a sharp breath, trying to hold it together.

It didn’t work.

That was the moment Joe decided he needed a distraction.

A new game plan. A new something—because if he let himself sit in this pain, if he let himself really feel it, it might consume him completely.

So he did the only thing he knew how to do.

He threw himself into excess.

He spent money like it was nothing, like it was oxygen, like keeping the spending going would somehow fill the empty space inside of him. New cars, new watches, expensive nights out where the bill was triple what it needed to be. If someone wanted a round of shots? Joe was covering it. If his guys wanted to go to Miami for the weekend? No problem.

And the women.

That was the easiest distraction of all.

They were everywhere—at the clubs, at the restaurants, at the parties where he never used to go but suddenly needed to be. They touched him like they wanted him, smiled at him like he was the most important man in the room. And for a few hours at a time, he let them.

He let them run their hands over his chest, let them whisper in his ear, let them follow him back to hotel rooms or his new penthouse in the city.

He let them treat him like he was whole.

But then morning would come, and the illusion would shatter.

Every single time, he’d wake up next to someone who wasn’t you.

Someone whose perfume didn’t smell like yours. Someone whose touch didn’t feel like home. Someone who would roll over, press lazy kisses to his skin, and call him baby in a way that made his stomach twist.

Because you used to call him that.

And now you never would again.

It was supposed to feel good. It was supposed to be freeing, making up for lost time, for all the years he had spent as the devoted boyfriend, the one-woman man, the guy who turned down numbers and shut down flirting because he only wanted you.

But none of it worked.

None of it made him feel better.

Because at the end of the day, he was still Joe.

And you were still gone.

It took one of his teammates pulling him aside one night to finally say what he couldn’t.

“Bro,” Sam said, hand on Joe’s shoulder. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Joe blinked, pulling his attention away from whatever girl had been whispering in his ear at the bar. “What?”

Sam gave him a look. “You’re not this guy.”

Joe let out a sharp laugh. “I’m fine.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Are you?”

Joe didn’t answer.

Because he wasn’t.

Not even close.

But he wasn’t ready to admit that yet.

So he just exhaled, forced a smirk, and lifted his drink. “Don’t worry about me, man.”

But Sam was worried.

And deep down, Joe knew why.

Because no matter how many nights he spent surrounded by people, no matter how much money he threw at the problem, no matter how many women climbed into his bed—

The only thing he ever felt anymore was hollow.

--

The day you packed your bags and left Cincinnati, you didn’t cry.

You had done enough of that.

Your best friend had offered—begged, really—for you to come stay with her in Columbus, and after weeks of waking up in a house that no longer felt like a home, you finally said yes.

It wasn’t running away.

It was survival.

Joe had been your world for so long that, without him, you weren’t sure where to stand. Your entire adult life had revolved around him—his schedule, his dreams, his highs, his lows. You had built a life inside of his. And now, that life was gone.

So, for the first time in years, you weren’t trying to be somebody’s something. You weren’t trying to be the perfect girlfriend, the supportive WAG, the woman who held it all together.

You were just trying to be you.

Whoever that was.

—

Columbus was different.

It wasn’t Cincinnati, where every street corner reminded you of Joe. Where the grocery store held memories of early-morning runs before his games. Where your favorite restaurant was the place he took you after he signed his first big contract. Where you couldn’t go anywhere without seeing a billboard with his face plastered on it, a cruel reminder that he was still Joe Burrow, still untouchable, still larger than life—just not yours anymore.

Columbus was quiet. A fresh start.

Your best friend had a cozy apartment near downtown, and the first night you arrived, she didn’t ask questions. She didn’t push. She just ordered takeout, opened a bottle of wine, and let you sit in silence.

That first week, you didn’t do much.

You slept too much, or not at all. Some nights, you laid awake staring at the ceiling, wondering if Joe was doing the same. Other nights, exhaustion won, and you crashed so hard you barely dreamed.

The dreams were the worst.

Because in them, he was still yours.

You still woke up to the sound of him moving around in the kitchen, still felt the weight of his arm draped over your waist, still heard his voice murmuring morning, baby in that slow, sleep-rough tone he always had.

But then morning would come, and none of it was real.

So, you started over.

You got a cat.

It wasn’t planned—you had just gone to the shelter one afternoon, thinking you’d look, thinking maybe it would distract you for a few minutes. But then you saw her.

Small. A little scrappy. White with a black spot over her eye, looking at you like she had already decided you belonged to her.

The name came easily.

“Larry,” you told the adoption worker, lips twitching into something like a smile. “Her name is Larry.”

Joe would’ve laughed at that.

Joe would’ve—

No.

This wasn’t about Joe.

Larry was yours.

So you took her home, bought her the stupidest, most ridiculous toys you could find, and let her curl up on your chest at night, purring so loudly it drowned out the silence.

You learned how to French braid.

You had never bothered before—your hair had always been something he liked, something he ran his fingers through when he was half-asleep on the couch. But now? Now, you spent hours watching tutorials, standing in front of the mirror, fingers twisting and looping until, finally, you got it right.

It was small, stupid even. But it was something just for you.

You started reading.

At first, it was just a way to pass the time—something to do instead of scrolling through Instagram, instead of wondering what he was doing. But then you fell into it, deep. You found yourself curled up on the couch for hours, lost in stories, letting yourself escape into other people’s lives.

Romance novels were hard at first. Because love still felt like a wound, like something sharp and raw and too close to home.

But one day, months after the breakup, you found yourself reading a love story and not feeling like your chest was caving in.

That was progress.

You cooked for yourself.

You had always cooked for Joe—his favorites, his comfort foods, the meals he requested after long practices. But now, you cooked what you wanted. You tried new recipes, bought ingredients you had never used before, made dishes with no one else’s preferences in mind.

It was weird, at first.

But then, one night, you sat at the table, eating something just for you, and it didn’t feel lonely.

It felt… peaceful.

You went on long walks, alone, with no one to check in with. You bought flowers for yourself. You started journaling, writing down things you had never let yourself think too hard about.

You let yourself exist.

And one day—on a random, unremarkable afternoon—you realized something. It had been weeks since you last thought of him.

Not that he was gone.

Not that it didn’t still hurt, sometimes, in quiet moments when you weren’t expecting it.

But for the first time, in a long, long time—

You felt like you. Without him.

[liloinkoink]

one thing i think people get wrong about Martyn in the life series is he really isn’t loyal

like yeah, we all know him as the Hand, following the Red King as far as their shared grave, but that is… truly the outlier and not the norm with him

i mean, let’s take a brief look at other seasons. i can’t speak to Secret Life, as it came out when i was incredibly busy and i haven’t yet had time to watch it, but what about the others?

he won Limited Life because he’s a chronic traitor! he betrayed Scott, his ally for the whole season, so that he could win, and said he’d been planning it / wanting to do it the whole session. spent a whole season protecting and helping Scott, and laughed in his face to betray as soon as he saw a shot to do so

Double Life was a whole mess of Martyn and weird loyalties. just one example: he spent all of the first session hanging out with Pearl in favor of even looking for either of their soulmates, with no regard for how he’d been putting his soulmate in danger. when their soulmates dumped them due to being ignored all session and stormed off, he dumped Pearl just because. one session in and he’s betrayed both his soulmate and his day one alliance!

Last Life he teamed with the Southlanders and then made the Shadow Alliance in secret, so he was on two teams and never truly committed to either. he tried to kill Grian basically immediately when he got boogeyman, for example, and in the final fight he tried to lure Ren to himself by offering to team and then tried to blow Ren up

of course, i’m simplifying and ignoring a lot. he doesn’t earn the loyal reputation for nothing. he does a lot of things to help his teammates, like giving a life to Ren in Last Life, trying all season to win Cleo over for all of Double Life, or working to protect Scott for all of Limited Life. it’s not like Martyn doesn’t play the part of a loyal friend well, but, well.

the thing about Martyn is that he’s selfish. he’s basically always going to prioritize his own survival over anything else. he’s never going to roll over and die, especially not for another person. he’s good at looking loyal, because having allies will help you survive, and he knows making outright enemies is a bad idea. he knows he can’t make it obvious he’s a traitor, because then he’ll certainly be killed. but, when it comes down to the wire, he will generally bail at the last minute to save his own skin rather than protecting the people around him. when his loyalty is tested, nine times out of ten, he will not only fail, but do so completely without remorse

it doesnt take a lot to become Martyn’s ally, and once you’ve got a foot in the door, he will take his allegiances seriously (at least, to a point). but it takes effort to really earn Martyn’s trust. and, even when it looks like you have, there’s no guarantee he won’t yank the rug out from under you if he decides having you alive is more detrimental to his survival than seeing you dead

and yes, you can especially see all of this in Third Life. Martyn was absolutely not instantly ride or die for Ren—for a lot of the earlier episodes, he won’t say he’s on Ren’s team or that he lives at Ren’s base, and often tells other players he’s simply Ren’s employee rather than teammate and that he’s wandering or homeless. he trusts Ren so little due to Ren’s inability to keep a secret or stand up for himself that even Ren acknowledges in the third session that Martyn is probably going to leave him and find someone else. Martyn’s loyalty had to be earned, and it very nearly wasn’t. if Ren had taken a session more to grow a spine, Martyn probably would have left

but Ren became an ally that Martyn could rely on, who could stand up for himself and keep secrets. it became more beneficial to Martyn’s survival to have Ren around, so he stayed with Ren for the rest of the season, and committed hard to their kingdom. Ren earns Martyn’s trust by becoming a more dependable ally, and because of that, Ren earns Martyn’s loyalty…. probably

(half related, bc i want it in the post and i don’t know where to put it: after the execution, two sessions after Ren officially earns Martyn’s loyalty, Ren admits to being genuinely convinced Martyn was going to take him out of the series as soon as Ren gave him the chance!)

because yes, even here, even after Ren earns his trust and Ren trusts Martyn to execute him and they become King and Hand, Martyn was okay with killing Ren to save himself. Martyn has said he was going to betray Ren in the final session of Third Life. his entire plan was that when he and Ren hit the final 5, he was going to kill Ren. end Red Winter, usher in Red Spring. even the most loyal version of Martyn was a traitor!

now, you can decide for yourself if you believe he could have actually gone through with this—he and Ren were 6th and 7th out of the game, after all. maybe he wouldn’t have been able to steel himself. maybe his loyalty would have, for once, been too strong to kill Ren.

but it’s very possible that even the most loyal version of Martyn—the version of Martyn who has created this “loyal” image of Martyn in fanon—was only loyal because he died too soon to show his true colors

[kaivenom]

I really like your writings about one piece dilfs, can you write one about what turns them on with fem reader?

What turns the One Piece Dilfs on HCS

Characters: Mihawk, Doflamingo, Crocodile, Smoker,Shanks.

Masterlist

Dracule Mihawk

Control yourself.

I mean, when someone is threating you, you are on a high stress situation, etc and you don't loose your cool, that makes him instantly hard.

Matching his style, cause in the end we know he is a fashion men and seeing you with that style makes him feel things.

Cuts, but not that he made them, when you are in battle all cut and bruised but still on your feet and determined to win the battle.

Helping him cutting his hair, this may sound strange but we know this man has a really careful imagen and when you are sat on his lap or the sink and you are trimming his moustache, he is eager for you to finish.

Donquixote Doflamingo

Suplicate, he loves when you get on your knees and ask him for something.

Being mean, especially if it's to other people, he feels like you are matching his cruel personality and he loves it.

Trying to reach him to kiss, simply size kink related.

Seeing you not flinch when he tries to scare you, that's a real challenge and when you succeed he goes hard.

You getting the lead, it's means that you are capable of getting what you want and take it from him, he would never let you be dom but he loves when you try it.

Crying (from pleasure) or just seeing your body after you two had fucked, this is a double edged sword cause he just finished and suddently he is back up.

Sr. Crocodile

You putting on things that he bought you, he loves to see that you are covered in HIS gifts for you.

Calling him sir, everyone does it but there is something on how you say his title that gets him twitching everytime.

Blowing smoke on your mouth, just yes.

Back massages, the tact of your hands in such an intimate moment makes that all the massages ended with a "happy ending".

When you wait for him to get home, especially if you manage to stay awake and ussually with a lingerie.

That's the other point, lingerie, he just loves how it fits oyur body, plus if you use it outside the house.

Smoker

Giving orders, even if you aren't his superior, he loves when you command him what to do.

Seeing you in uniform, if you work for the marine he has a really hard time seeing you at work, literally.

Workouts, seeing you sweating and pant always makes your sharing trainings end up with a steamy session.

Praise him, for like anything, this man just needs reassurance from you.

Seeing you act under stressfull situations, he tends to be the cold hearted one on that kind of situations but when you are that too, he mest.

Akagami Shanks

Seeing you mad, with everyone else or with him, that's why he ussually get's on your nerves.

Seeing you on short clothes, really basic but when you get to a summer island and you take the bikinis for a ride, he is the happiest horniest men ever.

Tracing his scars, espeally his eye one. It makes him vulnerable at first but soon after he melts under your touch.

Eating lollipops or juicy meals, it bring him so many memories about him cumming on your mouth that he just have the need to repeat it.

Taking his charge, when he is sick or something and you just assume the rol of captain, even though he should be dying of a fever, all the hot goes somewhere else.

[least-transmcytshowdown]

Rue:

Submitted for: Skyblock Kingdoms

Headcanons: Identity not specified, pronouns not specified

Propaganda: “Her whole character arc is a metaphor for being trans! She realized she wasn't who she was told she was and then chose her own name and made friends who saw her as HER! They're so special and wonderful and transgender!!”

“[The submitter] LITERALLY INCLUDED HER IN A PAPER [they] WROTE BECAUSE SHE IS SO TRANS.”

“Rue is not just textually trans, with she/they pronouns, she is ALSO a trans allegory! That's TWO trans aspects!”

“Rue is LITERALLY a trans allegory! They have a whole arc about realizing people are viewing them as the wrong person, creating a new identity, being hurt by that confusion, being lied to and told they need to act a certain way for people to like them.... THEYRE A CLONE OF A GUY WHO USES ALL PRONOUNS. THEY USE SHE/THEY PRONOUNS! THEY WERE TRAGICALLY KILLED BY THEIR ORIGINAL'S WIFE (possessed) AND DESERVE A WIN!!”

BigBSt4tz2:

Submitted for: Evo SMP, Third Life, Last Life, Double Life, Limited Life, Secret Life, Wild Life

Headcanons: Trans man, he/they

Propaganda:

“The vibe. They're so trans man coded. Like he would use a binder in the life series and, like, for example, Pearl would help him with it in Limited life, or Ren would help them cut their hair in Double life if he felt like being less gender ✨ He's just so trans man 😩 VOTE BIGB.”

“HE CAN BE ANY GENDER YOU'D WANT DUE TO CREATIVITY. I'VE SEEN MANY MAKE BIGB TRANSFEM OR NONBINARY!!!! YOU CAN EVEN MAKE HIM XENOGENDER OR USE NEOPRONOUNS FOR FUN.“

“C!Bigb being trans is so important. His character is very ambiguous (to [the submitter]. At least.) due to the hidden secretive nature of himself, he hides the lies, he masks his weirdness sometimes [which] can be a metaphor for a trans person not wanting to come out (also autism)((proof is [they’re] trans and autistic and [they] do this stuff)). You can color pick a makeshift trans flag from his mc skin also.”

“Every (Life) series, he changes up a lot of himself for whatever he's doing. This seems like he can't decide what exactly he is and is trying to rebrand himself as a different type of person every time, which tends to be something [the submitter has] noticed in a few trans people. The lack of clarity of who they are is definitely very genderfluid coded. It could also go for his character throughout the life series being a system, with each new series being someone else. [Their] main evidence for this is Terry (from Last Life). It can also go for being transmasc on some level because of how easy it was for him to be that character!”

“BigB's username literally has t4t in it. He's not cis [the submitter’s] sorry.”

Ethoslab:

Submitted for: Hermitcraft, Third Life, Last Life, Double Life, Limited Life, Secret Life, Wild Life

Headcanons: Agender, they/them; Transfem, she/her; Nonbinary, he/they/she; Nonbinary, they/he/it; Identity not specified, ladder/ladderself

Propaganda: “[The submitter] just think[s] she deserves boobies. [They] think they would be good for her. And also it's because [they] understand the way the universe flows and the nature of all things.”

“[Quote from Etho:]‘I’m ice man also, also the ice Queen […] yep, yep both in one.’ Etho has compared himself to a pretty girl before. ‘That’s me on the inside, beautiful, but on the outside it’s just this.’ (He’s talking about Falsesymmetry’s hermit head, a female head). Bigender, genderfluid, or genderqueer Etho trust trust trust.”

“T4T cletho. They’re both nonbinary and divorced (in an active relationship) and take turns on who's the ex wife and who's the ex husband.”

“When [the submitter] first joined hermitblr, [they were] genuinely confused about Etho’s gender for a bit because of the sheer amount of people on here that she/her him. [They] love it. Live your dreams.”

“Etho (ftm) but can be feminine. [The submitter] think[s] his vest is equal to the famous oversized trans hoodie (but with style).”

[wonderjanga]

Here's a stupid dumb crack idea you can't really die in Fawcett City like you can get hurt cartooningly but you can't die like getting hit in the head when it acts of like a mild inconvenience and gives you a headache and a scar but you won't die from it

If you leave faucet for a long time then you can die but everyone there is Immortal and kind of unaging unless you want to age

Captain marvel forgot to tell the Justice League this while fighting a villain who proceeded the flash when acts in the head

People in Fawcett don’t die. That was something the Justice League hadn’t known when Marvel had called them for help to fight some villain. Everything was going fine and dandy at first. They were winning, obviously, but then something just had to happen. A piece of the rubble somehow, you couldn’t ask any of them, fell on the fastest man alive who wasn’t able to dodge for whatever reason?Everyone, besides Marvel and the villain, who were still fighting by the way, went quiet as a mouse.

Supes: *looks horrified* “Oh my Rao! Flash!?” *flies over and lifts the rubble up*

Flash: *wobbly stands up, springing up and down like an accordion* (accordion squash)

Marvel and the villain didn’t even look their way, meanwhile, everyone is trying to get Flash to stop being a human accordion.

Supes: “Keep him still!”

GL: “I’m trying!” *using his ring to try and hold Wally still*

Batman: “Try harder.” *is trying to administer a sedative*

After that whole fiasco…

Marvel: “Hey, guys, I apprehended the villain. Where were you- why is Flash passed out on the floor.”

After they explained, seeing all their traumatized and scarred expressions, Marvel finally explained that in Fawcett, people couldn’t die. Not unless they wanted to anyways. When most Fawcitizens got hurt, they bounced back very similarly to Tom and Jerry. A wonderful demonstration of this conveniently happened when someone nearby just happened to run off a roof, hovered in the air for a solid fifteen seconds before looking down and then proceeding to fall. They then dug themselves out of the human shaped hole they left, dusted themselves off and walked off like nothing happened.

Safe to say, none of them wanted to come back to Fawcett after this. Though unfortunately, there are still times they have to visit.

Goon: *evil laughs and runs up to Batman and shoves a couple sticks of TNT into his hands*

Batman: *can’t safely throw it anywhere because of the civilians around so it blows up*

Goon: *pointing and laughing*

Batman: *standing there, somehow still alive and covered and soot. He blinks rapidly before grabbing his shark repellent and emptying the entire can on the goon’s face, eyes, and mouth*

As for why Bruce was so pressed to the point where he emptied an entire canister of shark repellent on the man? He could feel the soot everywhere. It somehow got under his mask so he feels it on every inch of skin near the upper part of his torso.

Don’t worry though, this chicanery happens to everyone else too. Like, every single Lantern that has entered Fawcett has taken a comically large hammer to head and has gotten a large bump as a result.

Marvel: *walking by when he does a double take seeing John* “Oh my Gods, what happened-”

GL(John Stewart): “I DON’T want to talk about it.”

Then there was the time Hawkgirl was chasing after a villain one time and they happened to get into Fawcett. She actually slipped on a conveniently placed banana peel. Then, the villain she was chasing stepped on a rake and got a good smack to the face.

Marvel: “Hawkgirl! What’re you doing here?” *flies down, happy to see his friend*

Hawkgirl: *gestures to the villain with a long red line down their face from the rake’s pole* “I was chasing them.”

Marvel: “Cool, cool, cool, uh… what happened to his face?”

Hawkgirl: “He stepped on a rake.”

*silence*

Hawkgirl: “Why do your people just have bananas and rakes laying around?”

Marvel: “What…?”

In conclusion, nobody besides the Fawcett heroes like being in Fawcett.

[kazisonline]

Don't televote. It doesn't matter you want to vote for someone else than Israel, you're still giving your money to EBU, and they don't give a single shit who you vote for AS LONG AS YOU VOTE AND GIVE THEM YOUR MONEY. Who wins this year really doesn't fucking matter. What matters is NOT WATCHING THIS SHITSHOW.

What matters is getting their numbers LOW to show we don't want to "Unite through music" with war criminals. That them and their racist double standards on who to ban and who not to can go to hell.

Don't watch. Percentage of Your viewership money goes to the sponsors, and among others that's Moroccanoil - an Israeli brand.

If you want to do something good with your money, give it to people in Palestine who NEED to evacuate as fast as possible. 1€ is like 50 EGYPTIAN POUNDS.

Here is a 20 years old medicine student whose school got bombed. She needs to evacuate. You want to do something, anything? Donate to her

Edit: STILL 8 THOUSAND DOLLARS TO GO. COME ON PEOPLE, LET'S HELP!

[lizawithaz-notlisawithans]

Okay so Abbot has been flirting for years and none of it has gotten across to Samira at all. What if he had a little help from the 20 year old med student who is a certified lover girl and waited a total of 9 hours to shoot her shot?

When Javadi has her night shift rotation she quickly notices Abbot flirting with Mohan when she works doubles. And since Javadi is away from Mateo-like distractions she invests in making Mohabbot happen.

At first its pretty clumsy. “Oh Samira sent me a similar study on this once, you should totally ask her for it. Maybe go through it together over coffee,” she suggests coyly.

“What are you trying to do here kid,” Abbot asks.

“I know you like her,” Javadi smile drops suddenly. “Unless you don’t? I didn’t mean to suggest that you as an attending would abuse your power. Even though i really don’t see it that way. i mean i think she’d be open to-“

“Jesus, breathe”

Abbots crush on Mohan made Javadi not see him as this scary authority figure that she has to win the approval of. He is actually a pretty great mentor in helping her find her confidence in intimidating cases. And truthfully Abbot has been out of the flirting game for a while and his efforts have not been working so gaining intel from Javadi is a welcomed addition.

Javadi starts talking to Mohan about Abbot (in the best nonchalant way she can muster) but it fully backfires when Mohan assumes Javadi has a crush on Abbot. And now Mohan has to ask her if it’s appropriate for her to be into her attending while feeling like a hypocrite.

“Ew no, he’s old enough to be my dad! I mean-I have no interest in age gaps and that doesn’t always mean something bad. And besides he has his eyes on someone else in the ED if you know what I mean”

And then Mohan thinks Abbot is into Santos. Javadi wants to hit her head against a wall in response.

[fight-for-what-you-love]

♪You're The Reason - Victorious Cast, Victoria Justice

Now. I'm not saying Cody wouldn't learn to defend himself on his own... but... I'm also saying that couples that spend a good amount of time together tend to learn from each other. Have you ever heard of the Michelangelo Phenomenon? That's what's going on here.

Anyway, for ONCE it's not all about Noah and Cody! Alejandro and Courtney really connected last episode! They understand each other and help each other out in different ways, what with their similar drives for success and mutual understanding to get there. Not everyone understands them, though. Shame it was a double elimination.

Notes on the episode under the cut!

* Courtney and Alejandro spend the trip to China talking and getting along in first class over their wedding cake (though Courtney���s the only one eating).

* Noah and Cody are asleep in a stupid, uncomfortable looking position. Heather and Tyler comment on the absurdity of the position before Sierra gets up and walks away in silent rage.

* Cut to Sierra in the confessional. She’s racking her brain trying to figure out how this (noco) happened, and where she went wrong. She doesn’t know what to do. Someone needs to tell her how this happened.

* Noah snags the bike, but only because Cody reached Ace the Donkey first, that jerk. He doesn’t argue though, just pets Ace and tells him to be nice to Cody.

* Sierra gets the pogo stick, Alejandro gets the skateboard and Courtney gets the tricycle like canon.

* Tyler insists he can run the wall on foot. Indeed he does, and he makes it to the gong exhausted.

* Heather gets a pair of roller skates instead of the traditional sandals. She’s not great with them, so she grabs the back of Alejandro’s shirt the whole race (after Alejandro convinces Courtney that sticking with Heather can give them an extra vote).

* Heather, Alejandro and Courtney keep pace with each other most of the race. Heather notices how well Alejandro and Courtney get along and she’s filled with an anger she can’t quite explain.

* Sierra and Noah reach each other in the race, and Sierra takes the opportunity to ask him how he did it. How exactly did he get Cody’s affection so easily when she couldn’t? Noah responds sarcastically: “By being a normal human being, maybe. What a concept, right?” This prompts Sierra to hop in front of him and jam her pogo stick into the front wheel of his bike. Noah almost flies off the bike as Sierra insists on telling her what he did to "win Cody over". Noah, scowling, simply says he was his friend first. “Have you ever considered that maybe he just wanted a friend?” This leaves Sierra thinking, giving Noah the chance to bike away.

* Courtney gets got by a land mine halfway through and gets blown past the wall. Alejandro moves to help her but can’t catch her before she falls.

* Noah passes out before making it to the gong and is disqualified from the second half of the challenge.

* (The prize for winning the second half of the challenge, other than immunity, is being able to take someone with you to first class. This will continue to be the case for every challenge moving forward.)

* Eating challenge time! Their first meal is the donkey meat. Cody refuses to eat what he assumes is Ace, and gets disqualified and sent to the loser bench for it. He sits next to Noah, who pats his back sympathetically. Four remain.

* Their second meal is the live meal worms. Heather does not finish her bowl before everyone else, and gets disqualified. She notices Courtney with her mouth full on her way to sit down. Three remain.

* Third meal is the starfish on a skewer. Heather notices Courtney and Alejandro dive under the table one after the other and interrupts the meal to call them out. Alejandro tries denying anything but Courtney’s mouth is too full to defend herself. Alejandro is disqualified for cheating.

* Tyler and Sierra are the last ones standing. They get the inedible slosh as their final plate and they’re both very not into eating this. Tyler plugs his nose, closes his eyes and starts shoveling the food in his mouth. He manages to swallow a few spoonfuls. Sierra is about to take her first bite when she notices Tyler hesitate. He has a spoon and a mouth full of food but he’s not moving to swallow anymore. Sierra sees this and puts down her spoon.

* Sierra starts teasing Tyler, telling him things like “It’s so warm and gooey, it looks like someone already ate this and threw it back up, the solid chunks really compliment the thickness of the broth” etc. Noah and Cody pipe up and try to convince Tyler to tune her out and finish the bowl. There’s silence for a few seconds. The spoon rattles in Tyler’s hand. He’s shaking and sweating. He turns and pukes. Sierra wins the challenge.

* Chris counts six votes: three for Alejandro and three for Noah. A tie. But... there’s seven people, how are there only six votes? Turns out Tyler got food poisoning and made a total mess of his vote. Noah and Alejandro try to argue, but Chris cuts his losses and hands them both a parachute.

* Before they jump, Sierra tries consoling Cody, telling him how it's just soooo sad that Noah got eliminated again, but at least he'll be comfortable in first class tonight!! Cody turns to look at her. "Who says I’m sleeping in first class?" Sierra hesitates, not expecting him to talk back to her. "I... did...? I’m bringing you with me...??" Cody responds: "I’m not going to first class with you."

* Sierra insists. "But… I won the challenge. I get to pick someone to come with me, and I’m picking you!" Cody stands his ground. "I’m not going with you." Sierra starts losing her patience. "Cody, don’t be difficult-" She grabs him by the shoulder, but Cody shoves her away harshly. He stands and takes a step back to create distance. "I said NO! I’ve had enough of you treating me like I’m anything but a person, so NO. I’m not going with you! Leave me ALONE!!"

* Sierra is left startled by his outburst. She relents. “Fine. I’ll take Heather instead.” Heather’s shocked, but she’s not about to turn down first class.

* Cody turns to say goodbye to Noah, but Noah hugs him before he can say a word. "That was amazing!! I’m so proud of you!!" Noah keeps going, saying he’s made it so far already, and he knows Cody can make it to the end. Cody can’t help but smile. Before he can say more, Alejandro grabs Noah and throws him out of the plane before jumping out himself.

* For goofs and gaffs, I like imagining the post credits bit of this episode being Alejandro and Noah plummeting to the ground after jumping out of the plane. Alejandro pulls the string of his parachute, only for soup bowls and chopsticks to fly out. Noah grabs onto Alejandro and pulls his own string (which opens an actual parachute), saving them both. Alejandro comments, disgust apparent in his face and tone, how being with Cody made him soft. Noah just tells him to shut up before he changes his mind and drops him.

[revelboo]

A few things of note:

I am so glad I started following you early on. Trying to catch up on your multitudinous masterpieces separately while they're all intertwined and you making multiple updates DAILY would be a nightmare to parse out.

I don't think anyone or anything has gotten me to so regularly leave comments--lengthy or otherwise--in the tags before, not has anyone ever inspired me to send in as many asks as I've sent you.

Girl what fucking time zone are you posting from? Because your first update of the day usually comes in at 5-6 in the damn morning here and I refuse to believe you are bored at work before the ass crack of dawn.

Have a nice day, I love literally everything you've written here.

Yeah, I feel a bit for folks following me later on and trying to catch up since fics will cross reference each other or events. I love reading the stuff you and everyone else leave in the comments and tags! I’m in the Central Standard time zone. And I try to get at least one posted before work in case it’s busy and I can’t type at work 😅 18+ 🌶️

Hum Along

First Aid x Reader

• This was supposed to be his first real station as a medic, a way to prove himself. To help. Delphi. After the first week, the first day, the excitement had tarnished. Because this is a punishment. No matter how fast they work, how good he, Pharma, and Ambulon are, the incoming wounded just keep dying. Too far gone already when they reach Delphi. Doesn’t even know where he’s going as he wanders the halls, servos shaking and stained with energon and audials still ringing from the screaming. Ambulon had said it gets easier, but he’s not sure that he wants it to. Shouldn’t it feel like a blade driving into his spark chamber every time he loses a patient? Shouldn’t it hurt?

• Not sure if you’re screaming or if it’s just in your head, you stagger and fall against a wall. It feels like needles sinking into you, pulling and biting deeper. Like being torn apart and you double over, retching. And when your head lifts, you try to figure out where you are. Hadn’t you been in your office sitting at your desk? Not anymore. Everything is huge as you look around at the endless stretch of hallway and fear rises up through the fog of pain. Is that your heart racing or the heavy sound of footsteps? Are you not alone?

• Coming around the corner, he freezes hearing a sharp little screech. What is that thing? The tiny, frail organic stands on shaky legs and retreats a step. It’s so ugly, it’s almost cute. A tiny biped with an uncannily Cybertronian face and you definitely don’t belong here. How had you gotten onto the station? “Hey, it’s okay. I won’t hurt you, I’m a medic.” Easing closer, you crane your neck to stare up at him and those eyes seem intelligent as you size him up. Before screeching and running.

• You hear the monstrous robot snarl something at you as you run for your life. Have no idea what’s going on, but death by giant robot is a definite nope. And that grating, snarling sound it had made? Pure nightmare fuel. It’s not like you’re a track star though, and you can hear the monster closing in. Screaming at the top of your lungs when a huge hand closes around you and your feet leave the ground. Aware that you’re babbling terrified nonsense at it, pleading it doesn’t eat or squish you.

• Adjusting his grip when he realizes how soft you are in his hand, you stare up at him with wide eyes and chirp frantically, tiny hands pushing at his servos. Little cries quieting when he touches your soft head and tips your chin up with a servo. Still has no idea what you are or where you came from, but realizes that you need him. That you’re not too far gone to help. “Don’t worry,” he says. “You’re safe now.” And he desperately needs this. Someone needing him that he can actually save. “It’s going to be okay.” Let it be okay, because he really needs a win.

Next

[txrully]

BLLK BOYS AND SLEDDING!

chars. : isagi yoichi, bachira meguru, itoshi rin, nagi seishiro, chigiri hyoma, mikage reo, shidou ryusei, itoshi sae, michael kaiser, alexis ness , hiori yo x gn! reader ( all seperate )

a/n : i do love me some good chaos :3

isagi yoichi

“guys, let’s do this safely!”

famous last words before he absolutely bails halfway down the hill, face-first into the snow. somehow still manages to have a great time. he’s the one who suggests a friendly sledding competition, but it’s less “friendly” and more “aggressively competitive” by the end. you're paired with him on a sled once, and his focus on "the perfect trajectory" has you crying laughing.

bachira meguru

this menace doesn’t even wait for the sled to stop before he’s tumbling off, yelling, “AGAIN!” he’s the one who convinces everyone to build ramps for “extra fun.” manages to convince you to double up with him, and when you hit one of those ramps, you swear your soul leaves your body. he lands laughing, though, and you can’t help but join in.

itoshi rin

“...this is stupid.”

still ends up participating because someone (cough you cough) drags him into it. surprisingly skilled at maneuvering the sled and smirks when he’s the fastest, but the moment he flips over mid-sled, he’s done. sits grumpily at the top of the hill with snow in his hair, but his pout is cute enough to forgive.

nagi seishiro

"too much effort," he says, but still gets on a sled after reo pushes him down the hill. he somehow makes sledding look like the laziest activity ever, lounging like it’s a couch ride. when you crash into him because your sled goes rogue, he’s like, "oh. hey," as if this wasn’t a disaster waiting to happen. still fun to hang out with at the top of the hill while everyone else goes wild.

chigiri hyoma

graceful even while sledding. how?? takes his time picking the “best sled” for speed and spends an embarrassing amount of time convincing you to race him. spoiler: he always wins. but he’ll go slower if you ask to ride with him because he secretly loves your laugh when you’re having fun.

mikage reo

buys the fanciest sled for this outing and somehow still eats snow on the first ride. you laugh so hard you can’t even help him up. by the end, he’s making it his mission to perfect his sledding form. insists on you going with him “for moral support,” but honestly just wants to hear you cheer him on.

shidou ryusei

what is this guy even doing? forget sledding; he’s sliding down on random objects like trash can lids or a snow shovel he stole from someone. he’s also the one to start a snowball fight halfway down the hill, hitting rin square in the face. absolutely screams “FULL SEND” when you agree to double up with him and nearly takes out half the group at the bottom.

itoshi sae

“how utterly lukewarm and stupid.”

but somehow gets roped into it after you call him boring. his technique is surprisingly good (of course), and he smirks every time someone else falls. secretly loves seeing you have fun and, by the end, is casually asking if you’re free for hot chocolate afterward.

michael kaiser

“watch and learn, losers.”

he’s all talk until he flips spectacularly on the first run and comes up with snow in his hair, looking like a grumpy snowman. still tries to outdo everyone and will not stop until he’s proven himself the “sledding king.” tries to impress you by offering to ride together, but he mostly just yells at ness to bring him a new sled every time one breaks.

alexis ness

poor boy is just trying to keep kaiser alive. gets dragged into the chaos but lowkey loves it when you cheer him on. he’s surprisingly good at sledding, but his attention keeps shifting to make sure kaiser’s not doing something stupid. will 100% join you on a sled if you ask and ends up having way more fun than he expected.

hiori yo

“i think i’ll just watch, thanks.”

he says this, but he’s secretly keeping score of everyone’s sledding fails. eventually gets dragged into it by bachira, and to everyone’s surprise, he’s really good at it. finds a spot with the perfect slope and offers to share his sled with you, grinning when you scream on the way down. honestly? he’s just happy to see everyone having fun—and will totally remind kaiser of his epic wipeout later.

© 𝘁𝘅𝗿𝘂𝗹𝗹𝘆 2024

𝖽𝗈 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝖼𝗈𝗉𝗒, 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗌𝗅𝖺𝗍𝖾, 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗀𝗂𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗓𝖾, 𝗈𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝗆𝗒 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝗌 𝗈𝗇 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗍𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗆𝗌.

it aint december but its kinda alr snowing here saur .. 🤔

[plumipal]

For the Tattoo ideas, I can only imagine how regretful Jamil will feel about them when he knows that it’s technically his fault Prefect got them in the first place(he trapped them in Scarabia, they called Aduece for help, etc).

I also feel like he’d be one of the few who wouldn’t outright ask or imply that Prefect should get a tattoo of his symbol like the others. Not to say he doesn’t attempt to mark them in his own subtle way, just that he would probably opt to try and persuade them to get the tattoos removed with help from Kalim.

Also, I think Floyd might try to ruin the tattoos by biting around the area they were inked. Prefect wouldnt let that happen, but it doubles as his own method of marking and blocking out the ore-existing marks

(Imma mostly focus on jamil here)

Not to spoil too much but he is fukcing heartbroken. He can't believe it. A scene to make you trust him and win you over (along with making him the housewarden) turned into yet another overblot, and the tattoo..

That damn tattoo, he hates it, it keeps him up at night. If only that could be him, if he could have been the one to save you, to meet you first, he loves you so much more than they do, it's just mot fair!

He cant sleep, he cant eat, he cant even function properly even days after he saw it. If only it was him, this is so unfair...

He cant keep going on liek this, he needs to win back your favor, he needs to win your love, he doesn't think he can be civil about it if you chose someone else..

[slut4megantheestallion]

Phantom Troupe & Hisoka w/ Tall fem! S/O Headcannons

Genre: fluff

Summary: Phantom troupe members with a tall fem! s/o reader

Characters: Hisoka, Chrollo, Feitan, Machi, Shanark, Phinks, Uvogin.

●Hisoka Morrow

●Hisoka adores your height. It makes you stand out, which means you're interesting - and if there's one thing Hisoka craves, it's entertainment.

●He immediately starts testing you, throwing cards at you randomness to gauge your reflexes. If you dodge or catch them effortlessly, he just smirks.

●"Oh? Quick, are we?~ How delightful."

●He loves toying with the fact that you're taller than him. Sometimes, he'll pretend to struggle reaching for something, looking at you expectantly.

●"Oh my~ if only I had an extra couple of inches... Ah! But you could help, couldn't you, my dear?"

●Hisoka loves for making flustered. He'll casually slide up to you, tilts his head back to meet your gaze, and murmur, "I do love looking up at you like this."

●If someone comments on your height in a negative way, Hisoka just laughs. But if he sees it bothers you?

●"Oh dear... should I cut them down to size?~"

-Chrollo

●Chrollo is completely unfazed by your height. He acknowledges it as just another trait - nothing more, nothing less.

●However, he does appreciate that you bring a natural presence into a room. You stand out, which means people notice you.

●"You command attention without speaking. That can be useful."

●He actually enjoys standing beside you in public because it adds to his mysterious, intimidating presence. Two powerful figures side by side? People fear that.

●If you're taller than him, he doesn't care. If anything, he finds it amusing when people expect him to be taller.

●He will, however, casually use your height to his advantage.

●"Since you're already reaching for it, could you grab that book for me?"

-Feitan

●Feitan is not happy about this. He won't say it outright, but he definitely resents having to look up at you.

●The first time you meet, he squints up at you and mutters, "Tch. Annoying."

●(Translation: He actually thinks it cool, but he's being a brat about it.)

●If you ever dare to pat his head or rest your arm on his shoulder? Immediate death stare. "You have five seconds to remove your hand. Five. Four-"

●He will not ask for help reaching something. He will little use his sword as a step stool before admitting defeat.

●Sparring with you is frustrated for him at first, but once he realizes you're genuinely strong, he begrudgingly respects you.

●"Not bad. For someone so... tall."

-Machi

●Machi doesn't say much about your height, but she notices the way others react to it. She sees the double takes, the intimidation, and how people hesitate around you.

●She appreciates that standing next to you means less people bother her. If someone annoys her, she subtly shifts behind you and lets your presence do the work.

●She's not big on compliments, but if you ever express insecurity about your height, she'll just say, "There's nothing wrong with you. Stop being stupid."

●(That's Machi's speak for "You're fine as you are.")

-Shalnark

●Shalnark finds your height interesting and immediately starts analyzing how it affects your combat abilities.

●"Taller people have longer reach but sometimes sacrifice speed... I wonder how you compare?" (Cue him grinning as he tries to test your reaction time.)

●He's super casual about it. If you tease him for being shorter, he just shrugs.

●"Yeah, but I have technology, and Nen. Who really wins here?"

●If you struggle with finding clothes that fit, he will help you out. He's resourceful, and he enjoys problem-solving

-Franklin

●Franklin has zero issues with your height. In fact, he kind of appreciates that you're one of the few people who don't look tiny next to him

●He doesn't talk much about it, but if you ever feel insecure, he'll just say, "Peope are stupid. You're fine."

●If anyone else tries to insult you? He doesn't even bother arguing. He just stares them down until they get the message.

-Phinks

●Phinks pretends not to care, but he 100% has opinions on this.

●The first time you started standing side by side, he's like, "Damn. You're... tall." (He's actually kind of impressed.)

●He will try to challenge you physically, just to see if you're all height or if you've got strength to match.

●If anyone teases you about your height, phinks immediately squares up. "You've got something to say? That's what I thought."

-Uvogin

●Uvogin loves this. A tall, strong S/O? Perfect.

●He lives for having a powerhouse partner. He immediately challenges you to an arm- wrestling match.

●He's the type to throw you over his shoulder just because he can. "You're tall, but I'm bigger."

●If you're physically strong, too, you instantly earn his respect. He loves sparring with you and showing off.

(For @creeppastaontop, enjoy!)

[least-transmcytshowdown]

Rue:

Submitted for: Skyblock Kingdoms

Headcanons: Identity not specified, pronouns not specified

Propaganda: “Her whole character arc is a metaphor for being trans! She realized she wasn't who she was told she was and then chose her own name and made friends who saw her as HER! They're so special and wonderful and transgender!!”

“[The submitter] LITERALLY INCLUDED HER IN A PAPER [they] WROTE BECAUSE SHE IS SO TRANS.”

“Rue is not just textually trans, with she/they pronouns, she is ALSO a trans allegory! That's TWO trans aspects!”

“Rue is LITERALLY a trans allegory! They have a whole arc about realizing people are viewing them as the wrong person, creating a new identity, being hurt by that confusion, being lied to and told they need to act a certain way for people to like them.... THEYRE A CLONE OF A GUY WHO USES ALL PRONOUNS. THEY USE SHE/THEY PRONOUNS! THEY WERE TRAGICALLY KILLED BY THEIR ORIGINAL'S WIFE (possessed) AND DESERVE A WIN!!”

“Rue is not just played by a trans person and a trans allegory, but a canonical trans character, and she deserves all the love in this world. Rue means a lot to [the submitter] as a whole, and her discovery of how she could be her own person without having to be who people expected her to be made [them] want to sob loudly.”

BigBSt4tz2:

Submitted for: Evo SMP, Third Life, Last Life, Double Life, Limited Life, Secret Life, Wild Life

Headcanons: Trans man, he/they

Propaganda: “The vibe. They're so trans man coded. Like he would use a binder in the life series and, like, for example, Pearl would help him with it in Limited life, or Ren would help them cut their hair in Double life if he felt like being less gender ✨ He's just so trans man 😩 VOTE BIGB.”

“HE CAN BE ANY GENDER YOU'D WANT DUE TO CREATIVITY. I'VE SEEN MANY MAKE BIGB TRANSFEM OR NONBINARY!!!! YOU CAN EVEN MAKE HIM XENOGENDER OR USE NEOPRONOUNS FOR FUN.“

“C!Bigb being trans is so important. His character is very ambiguous (to [the submitter]. At least.) due to the hidden secretive nature of himself, he hides the lies, he masks his weirdness sometimes [which] can be a metaphor for a trans person not wanting to come out (also autism)((proof is [they’re] trans and autistic and [they] do this stuff)). You can color pick a makeshift trans flag from his mc skin also.”

“Every (Life) series, he changes up a lot of himself for whatever he's doing. This seems like he can't decide what exactly he is and is trying to rebrand himself as a different type of person every time, which tends to be something [the submitter has] noticed in a few trans people. The lack of clarity of who they are is definitely very genderfluid coded. It could also go for his character throughout the life series being a system, with each new series being someone else. [Their] main evidence for this is Terry (from Last Life). It can also go for being transmasc on some level because of how easy it was for him to be that character!”

“BigB's username literally has t4t in it. He's not cis [the submitter’s] sorry.”

“BigB deserves to go all the way to the end of this poll because the primary life series fandom's somewhat casual disregard of him makes [the submitter] so upset, and all the trans headcanons for him fill [them] with infinite joy <3 It's gotten a lot better over the years, but [they] feel he still deserves so much more recognition for all his good work.”

“No person who makes their base the backrooms deserves to be cis. That gas lighting with the hole could easily also be about gender.

Grian: What's your gender? 

BigB: Oh, like pretty masc.

(Five seconds later)

Scar: So, like, what's your gender, BigB? 

BigB: None. 

Grian: ??????”

Ethoslab:

Submitted for: Hermitcraft, Third Life, Last Life, Double Life, Limited Life, Secret Life, Wild Life

Headcanons: Agender, they/them; Transfem, she/her; Nonbinary, he/they/she; Nonbinary, they/he/it; Identity not specified, ladder/ladderself

Propaganda: “[The submitter] just think[s] she deserves boobies. [They] think they would be good for her. And also it's because [they] understand the way the universe flows and the nature of all things.”

“[Quote from Etho:]‘I’m ice man also, also the ice Queen […] yep, yep both in one.’ Etho has compared himself to a pretty girl before. ‘That’s me on the inside, beautiful, but on the outside it’s just this.’ (He’s talking about Falsesymmetry’s hermit head, a female head). Bigender, genderfluid, or genderqueer Etho trust trust trust.”

“T4T cletho. They’re both nonbinary and divorced (in an active relationship) and take turns on who's the ex wife and who's the ex husband.”

“When [the submitter] first joined hermitblr, [they were] genuinely confused about Etho’s gender for a bit because of the sheer amount of people on here that she/her him. [They] love it. Live your dreams.”

“Etho (ftm) but can be feminine. [The submitter] think[s] his vest is equal to the famous oversized trans hoodie (but with style).”

Evil Xisuma:

Submitted for: Hermitcraft

Headcanons: Transmasc Demi-boy, he/they

Propaganda: Canonically uses he/they

“Their voice is deepened by a voice changer, even though they wear the same helmet as Xisuma, which could hint at them purposefully adding a voice changer in order to have a deeper voice.”

“Evil Xisuma bites you if you misgender them (They also bite you if you properly gender them) (They bite).”

[whereispearlescentmoon]

While I don’t generally subscribe to the idea that only winners get to remember the games, I can’t stop thinking about a Pearl who remembers Double Life going back to Hermitcraft and just… not being able to believe her friends when they say they love her anymore. And no one but Grian knows why. She trusts Scar and Grian and Tango, they treated her with kindness, but with everyone else who was in DL, there’s a sense of unease. They do not love her unconditionally, she knows that now. She’s more closed off from the rest of the Hermits than she was even when she joined on Season 8. And none of them know why.

It’s especially bad with Ren. Grian advises her that no one else remembers the games, but she can’t help but feel even more anger and resentment towards the whole King Ren thing than before. He’s not just the guy who’s forcing them all to do quests for worthless currency, or the guy putting up massive decrees that she vandalizes, he’s the guy who blamed her for something that wasn’t her fault, and then called her a demon with evil in her heart who causes death wherever she goes. And he doesn’t remember doing it. When they defeat him, she takes an extra moment to sneer at his severed head before handing to Gem for her dungeon.

It takes her weeks to look Cleo in the eye again. Cleo who was her tentative friend in Last Life, who hated her in Double Life, who called her unhinged and a crazy ex and asked if she was alright in a tone somewhere between fear and concern. Pearl pulls her for secret Santa and Cleo laughs at her gift and says she loves Pearl for it, and Pearl laughs too, not saying that she knows exactly how far Cleo can be pushed before she doesn’t love her anymore. But Cleo can tell she’s closed off. Cleo is confused by this, her and Pearl aren’t particularly close but she’s never wronged her before has she? She runs through all the interactions they’ve had on Hermitcraft and can’t find anywhere that may have caused Pearl to pull away.

Impulse is complicated. He never directly harmed her, but he had called her crazy. And he had killed her Tilly, her poor poor Tilly who she still wakes up reaching for even when more time has passed out of the game than she spent in it. Impulse is her neighbor and one of her best friends. Impulse calls Soup Group meetings and says Pearl and Gem are his best friends and that he loves them and Pearl struggles to believe him even when she knows that it’s still true to him. She knows he is capable of holding great hatred for her. Pearl may have won the fight but she still knows the feeling of Impulse’s sword cutting into her skin, his voice reminding her that’s she’s alone.

And then Scar wins Secret Life and he remembers. And that’s alright with Pearl because him and Grian had been kind to her. Scar actually apologizes to her for burning down the frogs on her and BigB’s tower and she had never realized how much she wanted someone to apologize to her before that. But it’s the wrong game. She hasn’t cared as much about what people had done in this one. Scar hadn’t ever hurt her the way others had. Pearl thanks him but says it’s not necessary. She says she’s sorry for the whole blowing the terrain up thing. They all do things they regret in the games.

And then Cleo wins Reals Life and that’s a whole other can of worms because of all the people who Pearl didn’t want to remember the games, the person who she keeps killing would be number one. Cleo doesn’t seem as affected by it as Pearl, though. But there’s an edge to her now that wasn’t there before. A genuine distress behind the thick layer of sarcasm. She clings to Scar initially, and Pearl understands. She wishes she had BigB or that any of her Mounders remembered. She has Grian and Scar, but they were late additions to the Nosey Neighbors and Mounders respectively. It’s not the same. She’s glad Cleo gets to have her Clocker back.

It takes a few weeks, but Cleo apologizes to Pearl for what she did in Double Life. She says she doesn’t know what was wrong with her, that they didn’t believe anything they said, it just felt right to say it in the moment. It’s not an excuse they say, and they’re so sorry. They had been avoiding Pearl because they felt bad and they felt hurt by everything.

It’s everything Pearl has ever wanted to hear and it hurts more to hear it than anything else. She doesn’t want this apology two years later. She’s moved on (no she hasn’t). But Pearl thanks her for it, and gives an apology in turn. She says she’s sorry for leaving for the nether in Double Life (she isn’t, but she should still say it), sorry that they always end up betraying each other, sorry that she keeps killing her. She says she loves Cleo and wants them to get along and Cleo agrees. They both promise to stand by each other in the next game, and they do.

And then Joel wins Wild Life and he remembers and Pearl doesn’t know what to do with their history. Does she say she’s sorry for the way she killed him in Last Life? Does she try to explain that she was going to return his chest plate in Double Life before he killed her? Does she avoid him, let him cool off from their rivalry in Wild Life? But instead the conversation they have is mostly about Secret Life, oddly enough. She goes to him and he tackles her in a hug. He thanks her, and she’s taken aback, but he remembers how much she had wanted him to get to the end in Secret Life. Mounders for life, right? Pearl has forgotten that even though the games cause great pain, there are moments of great joy for her too.

She thinks, maybe, that if people’s first instinct when they remember is to apologize, is to thank her, is to love her, then maybe Double Life isn’t a sign that they don’t actually want her. Maybe it’s just a sign that the games suck.

[retroaria]

★ unlikely trio

⟡ ݁₊ what it was like working with osamu dazai and chuuya nakahara as port mafia operatives ₊ .⟡

platonic!dazai + chuuya x gn!reader | this is definitely based on 15-18 y/o dazai and chuuya! they are both executives and you’re under them but still high ranking. use of y/n btw. this is short i just wanted to do some silly hc's for my favorite boys :)

• | BSD M.LIST | reblogs are apprectiated! | •

⋆˙⟡ chuuya hates to make you the mediator, but dazai insists. when these two are locked in on one upping each others level of arrogant asshole, dazai seeks you out to be the final voice of reason just so he can see which of them will be scolded the most - he knows they’re both being stupid. because of his vulgarity, chuuya usually gets the shorter end of the stick in these competitions (competitions that exist only in dazai’s head btw)

D: “Did you see that!? Chuuya just bit me!”

C: “I did not bite you, i’m not some kind of wild animal.”

D: “No, I think you’re a creature far more sinister actually…”

C: “If you don’t shut the hell up I’ll actually bite your head off.”

D: “You see! Y/n! Someone has to reprimand this feral beast.”

Y/N: “Chuu~ you can’t just say you’re gonna bite his head off…”

C: “HE STARTED IT AND HE LIED!”

D: “My accusation doesn’t seem too far off for someone who just threatened to orally behead me, read the room Nakahara.”

⋆˙⟡ pushing and shoving each other to get through the doorway first. you or chuuya usually assume the role of line leader but when it comes to making an entrance dazai can’t help but weasel his way in there with an annoying amount of force. this doesn’t necessarily pertain to you, as dazai does this when it’s just him and chuuya as well…or anyone really - he’s gotta make a grand entrance.

⋆˙⟡ letting you win at arcade games just so chuuya feels like the only one who couldn’t beat him.

⋆˙⟡ you being the only thing that could get those two to sit down and have a normal meal together. they know you mean business when you invite them out to eat so they put their big boy pants on.

⋆˙⟡ you and dazai coming up with dangerous but efficient plans that chuuya spends the entirety of the mission refuting. alternatively: you and chuuya coming up with safe and well thought out plans that dazai spends the entirety of the mission ruining.

⋆˙⟡ they both go to you to talk about their troubles id think, although dazai does it in a much more sly manner; not really telling you anything but just wanting to have someone to talk to. chuuya really lets it all out on you, he’s a a bit of a trauma dumper when he feels he can be. sometimes one of them will walk in on you when you’re with the other and they both look at you feeling so betrayed.

D: “I can’t believe you double booked…today is MY DAY.”

C: “Shut it freak, I had plans with them first you’re such a little brat.”

D: “So cold…I’ll have you know I was invited.”

⋆˙⟡ dazai spends a lot of time trying to get you to understand the way he thinks. he’s totally emotionally and mentally stunted though, so he ends up speaking in riddles and not getting his point across as smooth as he’d like to sometimes. chuuya doesn’t explain his thought process to you at all and then gets mad when both dazai and you aren’t getting what he’s putting down.

⋆˙⟡ they both feel the need to get your opinion on big decisions they might be making concerning operations. dazai will dance around his proposals and take in your reactions based on the little info he gives you. chuuya tells you the situation straight up and asks what you would do if you were him.

⋆˙⟡ dazai feels that you need very little protection and can handle things on your own, his logic is that you couldn’t have gotten as far as you did if you weren’t capable. chuuya sees you as one of his valued subordinates and will go out of his way to ensure your safety (though he doesn’t do that for anyone else but if you died who else would protect him from dazai’s emotional abuse?)

[callmemonster68]

throne of shadows - part 1 | p.sh - sunghoon

He was born in captivity, she was born at the top of the world. He was shaped to serve, she to rule.

paring: sunghoon x fem!reader 18+ | masterlist

wc: 7,320

warnings: nsfw, unprotected sex, crying, gore, blood

Mentions of murder, blood, self-harm. Read at your own risk.

Sunghoon, a mutant of incomparable beauty, possessed enormous black wings. He was sold as a baby to a very rich man who collected the most beautiful and unique mutants and displayed them in his luxurious museum. This rich man was perverse and very evil. Besides the exposure, he also allowed the wealthiest clients to pay and use the mutants sexually. Sunghoon never knew freedom and did not understand feelings; he never felt love, affection, pleasure, or any other good feeling.

Y/N was a beautiful and wealthy woman, she had recently married a man, Jaemin, who was a bit older than her, he was handsome, rich, and very successful, he had always been in love with her, but to her, he was nothing more than a deal. They were both heirs to extremely wealthy families, and by marrying, they doubled their fortune. He begged her to allow herself to like him, to let him win her over, to let him touch her, to make her happy, but she always denied him anything. Sleeping in separate rooms since the wedding.

Jaemin didn't know what else to do to please her, so one day he decided to visit the museum of sublime mutants. He thought that maybe something like that would make her grateful to him, and perhaps she would see him in a different light. It was then that he arrived in front of Sunghoon's display case. When he saw his wings, he felt a shiver run through his body. He knew how much Y/N liked dark, beautiful things; he knew she would love this. He went to the owner and made an irresistible offer. He succeeded; he bought it.

When he got home, Y/N wasn't there, so he prepared everything. He explained to Sunghoon that from then on he would belong to Y/N and should do everything she wanted. He put a collar on him, which controlled him, with a remote. If he got out of control, Y/N could press the button and then he would feel immense pain that would paralyze him. He took him to Y/N's room, helped him take a shower, dressed him in only black pants, and ordered him to sit on the bed until Y/N arrived.

The door opened slowly, and Y/N entered the room, throwing her bag onto an armchair without paying attention to anything. She paused for a second upon noticing the motionless figure on the bed.

Her eyes analyzed the sculptural body of the man in front of her. The black wings folded behind him, the feathers shining in the dim light of the room. The collar around his neck gave a perverse contrast to the scene.

Y/N: What the hell is this? (her voice sounded cold and irritated)

Sunghoon lifted his head, his black eyes meeting hers. He quickly lowered his gaze, not daring to look at her for too long.

Sunghoon: I am yours. (his voice was soft, obedient) I will belong to you, I will do everything you want.

She frowned and looked around, as if expecting Jaemin to appear and say it was all a joke. 

But there was no one. Just her and the mutant of supernatural beauty, sitting patiently waiting for his owner.

Y/N: Did Jaemin do that? (asked, exasperated)

Sunghoon: Yes. He brought me to you. (he tilted his head, like a dog waiting for a command) If I displease you, I can be punished. But... I want to please her. I need to please her.

There was something in the way he said that which bothered her. A blind devotion, not out of passion, but due to the lack of any other reference. As if he were incapable of existing without serving someone.

She approached slowly, stopping in front of him. With a finger, she lifted Sunghoon's chin, forcing him to look at her.

Y/N: Do you have a name?

Sunghoon: Sunghoon. But if you want to call me something else, I will accept it.

Y/N: Hm. (She released his face and crossed her arms) So, Sunghoon, what exactly do you do?

He hesitated for a moment, then replied:

Sunghoon: Anything you want.

The silence weighed heavily between the two of them. Y/N took a deep breath and looked at the remote on the bedside table. One single button and he would be writhing in pain.

She took the remote and twirled it between her fingers.

Y/N: You're here because Jaemin thinks he can buy me with a pretty toy. (Her voice was harsh, but there was no fun in it) You are aware of that, right?

Sunghoon: If that makes you happy, then it's fine. (the response was immediate, without hesitation)

Y/N pressed their lips together. Sunghoon seemed so... empty. But there was something there, behind those black eyes. Something broken.

And she never resisted broken things.

YN: Take off the wings. (your order was a test)

Sunghoon hesitated for a moment, then lowered his head. The wings folded and disappeared, as if they had never existed.

Y/N observed in silence. Then, she walked over to the bed and sat down beside him.

Y/N: Speak.

Sunghoon: About what?

Y/N: About you.

Sunghoon blinked, as if he didn't understand the order.

Sunghoon: I... don't know what to say.

She let out a nasal laugh.

Y/N: Of course not.

Sunghoon knew nothing but serving. He didn't know what desire, freedom, or even the meaning of touch that wasn't imposed was.

But he would learn.

The silence lingered between them. Sunghoon maintained an immobile posture, his eyes fixed on the woman beside him, awaiting the next command like a trained soldier.

Y/N ran their tongue over their lips, watching him closely.

Y/N: Do you really not feel anything? (he/she asked, with a slight hint of curiosity)

Sunghoon: I feel what they teach me to feel (he replied without hesitation)

Y/N: And what did they teach you?

Sunghoon lowered his eyes.

Sunghoon: To obey. Not to question. To be available.

There was something devastating in the way he said that, as if there was nothing strange or cruel about that reality. As if it were natural.

Y/N let out a sigh and leaned back, resting on their elbows.

Y/N: And if I tell you that I don't want a servant?

Sunghoon blinked, his lips slightly parting as if that were an impossible concept to process.

Sunghoon: But... I am yours.

She laughed, a low, almost cynical laugh.

Y/N: You don't even know what that means.

He remained silent, but Y/N noticed the slight tension in his shoulders. Something in her wanted to test him. Tease him.

She slid the tips of her fingers over his chest, feeling the muscles contract under her touch. 

Sunghoon didn't even move, but his breathing became deeper.

Y/N: Tell me, Sunghoon… (she leaned her face close to his, whispering) What do you want?

He blinked a few times, confused.

Sunghoon: What do I... want?

Y/N: Yes. Has anyone ever asked you that?

He shook his head slowly.

Sunghoon: No.

Y/N smiled slightly, but it wasn't a smile of amusement. It was something colder, sharper.

Y/N: So think about it. And when you know the answer, tell me.

She got up and took the collar control, spinning it between her fingers before dropping it on the bedside table.

Y/N: You can sleep on the floor, in the armchair, or in the bed. Choose.

Sunghoon watched her for a moment before bowing his head in submission.

Sunghoon: If I say I want to sleep at your feet, would that make you happy?

Y/N felt a shiver run down their spine.

He didn't know what desire was, but he was trying to understand.

And that could be dangerous.

Y/N remained silent for a moment, observing Sunghoon. There was something perverse in his blind devotion, something that made her want to test him, to push him beyond that brutal conditioning that had turned him into a submissive being.

She approached again, leaning slightly towards him.

Y/N: Do you want to sleep at my feet?

Sunghoon nodded, his black eyes shining under the dim light of the room.

Sunghoon: If that pleases you, yes.

She laughed softly, a sound that sent a shiver down his spine.

Y/N: You are so used to pleasing others, Sunghoon... but can you handle what I want?

He remained silent, his eyes fixed on hers. He didn't understand, but he wanted to understand.

Y/N extended her hand and pulled the collar chain, forcing him to come closer. Sunghoon didn't resist, his lips parting slightly when he felt her breath so close.

Y/N: I could test you in so many ways... (she slid her fingers along his jawline, feeling it tremble slightly under her touch) But are you ready for this?

His eyes blinked rapidly, as if trying to process.

Sunghoon: I want to be everything you need.

Y/N felt a strange excitement coursing through their body. It was not just carnal desire — it was the power of having someone so beautiful, so perfect, so devoted in your hands.

She leaned in even closer, the tip of her nose brushing against his cheek.

Y/N: Open your mouth.

Sunghoon obeyed at that very moment, breathing heavily, his eyes half-closed.

Y/N ran their thumb over his lips, feeling the warmth and softness.

Y/N: Good answer. (her voice came out low, provocative)

Sunghoon shuddered. He didn't understand why his body reacted like that. He had never felt heat before. I had never felt my chest tighten like that before.

Y/N: You are trembling, Sunghoon. (Y/N noticed and smiled)

Sunghoon: I... don't know what this is.

She pressed her finger against his tongue, slowly, testing his reaction. Sunghoon let out a soft gasp, his eyes fixed on hers as if he were being consumed.

Y/N: That's right, Sunghoon... (she whispered against his lips, without kissing him) Learn to feel.

The days passed, and Sunghoon became a shadow of Y/N. He followed her silently through the mansion's corridors, patiently waiting by the bathtub while she bathed, and slept on the floor next to her bed, even when she insisted he choose a more comfortable place.

He didn't know how to explain that. He only knew that he needed to be close to her.

Y/N: You are addicted to me, Sunghoon.

She whispered one night, as she ran her fingers through his hair, feeling him shiver at the mere touch.

Sunghoon: If that means I want to be by your side all the time... then yes.

Y/N felt a warmth rise through her body. She wanted to take him for herself, wanted to feel his skin against hers, wanted to possess him in every possible way. But she wasn't a monster. She didn't just want an obedient body, without its own will.

She needed to know if he desired her in the same way.

That's why, a few days later, she decided to ask Jaemin some questions.

Y/N: Where did he come from?

Jaemin frowned upon hearing the sudden question.

Jaemin: Sunghoon? Why do you want to know?

Y/N: Just answer.

He sighed, leaning back in the chair.

Jaemin: I bought it at the museum of sublime mutants. It was the most valuable of all.

Y/N's blood ran cold.

She knew that place. She knew it wasn't an ordinary museum.

That night, while Sunghoon slept beside the bed, she took the car keys and drove to the museum.

The owner of the place greeted her with a smile full of arrogance.

Owner: Are you the new owner of the celestial mutant? A rare specimen. It was a difficult sale to make.

Y/N held back to avoid showing the anger that was beginning to grow inside her.

Y/N: I want to know where he came from.

The man chuckled softly, taking a sip of wine before responding.

Owner: He was sold to me as a baby. Never knew another reality. Trained to be... pleasant.

The way he said that made Y/N's stomach turn.

Y/N: You exposed him like a display piece. (her voice came out sharp)

The man shrugged.

Owner: I give people what they want to see. Some like to just admire the beauty... others want a little more than that.

Her fists clenched.

Y/N: Was he... used?

The man raised an eyebrow, pretending to be surprised.

Owner: Ah, my lady... Do you really want to know the answer?

It was enough for her to feel a blind rage take over her.

She left there with her breath uneven, her heart pounding in her chest.

Now everything made sense. The devotion, the silent fear of displeasing, the way he never asked for anything for himself.

He was never allowed to want anything.

When she returned home, Sunghoon was waiting for her at the bedroom door.

He approached, as he always did, and held her hand gently, pressing it against his bare chest.

Sunghoon: Your heart is racing (he murmured, confused)

Y/N looked at him, at his absurd beauty, at the eyes that didn't know what freedom was.

She felt anger. But, above all, she felt pity.

And he realized he would do anything to fix it.

The silence weighed heavily between them.

Y/N still felt the blood boiling inside them. Every time she looked at Sunghoon, his immaculate beauty, his submissive and naive eyes, the anger returned like a wave. They had deprived him of everything. Of choices, of desires, of a real life.

She couldn't stand it.

Y/N: Sunghoon… (her voice came out softer than she expected) I will set you free.

He tilted his head, his black eyes shining in the dim light of the room.

Sunghoon: What does this mean?

Y/N felt a tightness in their chest. How to explain something so fundamental to someone who has never even had the notion of what it was like to be free?

She took a deep breath, trying to find the right words.

Y/N: It means that you will be able to choose whatever you want. That no one will be able to control you, hold you back, or tell you what to do. You will be able to go wherever you want...

Sunghoon kept looking at her, without blinking.

Sunghoon: What if I want to be with you?

Y/N felt their heart leap in their chest.

Y/N: If that's your choice, then... (she hesitated, feeling the intensity of his gaze) Then you could stay. But, for the first time, because you wanted to.

His expression didn't change. But something shone in his eyes, something intense and uncontrollable.

He stepped forward, closing the distance between them, and held Y/N's hand gently.

Sunghoon: If freedom means being without you... then I don't want it.

Her heart stopped for a second.

He was speaking with a terrifying certainty. As if freedom were worth nothing if it meant he couldn't be by her side.

Y/N: Sunghoon… (Y/N felt their breath hitch) You don't understand.

He knelt before her, pressing his forehead against her belly.

Sunghoon: I understand enough. (his voice sounded low, like a prayer) You are everything I know. And everything I want to know.

She closed her eyes, feeling her body burn with frustration and desire.

He didn't know what love was. He didn't know what it was to want someone the right way. 

But I was learning.

And that scared her more than anything else.

Y/N felt Sunghoon's fingers tighten around her waist, the hesitant touch, almost as if he were afraid she would disappear if he didn't hold her tightly.

Y/N: Sunghoon… (she whispered, her eyes fixed on him) You only say that because you've never had another option.

He raised his head, his black eyes sparkling in confusion.

Sunghoon: But I don't want another option.

Y/N closed their eyes for a moment, feeling their breath tremble. He didn't understand. How could he? He never knew what it was like to have a real choice. He never knew what it was like to desire something of his own free will.

And her?

She always had choices. And, at that moment, everything inside her screamed for her to choose him.

But would that be right?

She ran her fingers over Sunghoon's face, feeling the cold and flawless skin under her touch. He instinctively leaned into her hand, his eyes half-closed, as if that gesture were enough to make him crumble.

Y/N: You want to be with me because you've never had anything but pain and submission (she said, her voice heavy with emotion) I don't want to be just another person who keeps you trapped.

Sunghoon: You don't keep me trapped. (his voice came out firm, without hesitation) You are the only thing that makes me feel... something.

Y/N bit their lip, stifling a trembling sigh.

Y/N: What do you feel when you're with me?

Sunghoon blinked slowly, as if he were searching for the answer within himself.

Sunghoon: I don't know the name. But it's hot. Strong. (he slid his fingers along the hem of her dress, hesitantly) As if I needed to touch you to keep breathing.

The air between them became thick, heavy.

Y/N felt their body burn.

She wanted that. She wanted to touch him. I wanted to feel his breath against my skin. I wanted to know if what he felt was real or just a conditioned response to the desire to please her.

But...

Y/N: You don't know what you're feeling.

He furrowed his brow, the wings moving slightly behind him.

Sunghoon: So teach me.

Her heart skipped a beat.

Y/N: Sunghoon…

Sunghoon: You said that freedom is being able to choose. (he moved closer, their lips almost touching) I choose you.

Y/N's body responded before her mind. She leaned towards him, her fingers sliding over the collar-marked neck.

She wanted to believe that it was a choice.

I wanted to believe that he wanted her the same way she wanted him.

But did he really understand?

And could she resist the idea of taking him for herself?

The days went by, and Sunghoon became an extension of Y/N.

He no longer stayed in the room, waiting for orders. Now, he followed her everywhere, like a silent shadow. At the lavish dinners, where the powerful exchanged false smiles and toasts full of ulterior motives, Sunghoon was by her side, observing everything with curious eyes. 

On the morning walks through the garden, he smelled the flowers and asked Y/N why some people smiled only with their lips, but never with their eyes.

She taught him every day.

Y/N: This is called a lie (they explained once, running the tips of their fingers over his wrist) People lie all the time. For others and for themselves.

He frowned, holding her hand between his.

Sunghoon: Do you lie to me?

Y/N held their breath.

Y/N: I... (she hesitated) I never want to lie to you, Sunghoon.

He smiled, satisfied with the answer.

But Jaemin was not satisfied.

He observed everything from afar, his gaze growing increasingly dark as he watched 

Sunghoon claim a space that had never been his.

Before, Y/N wouldn't even let him touch her.

Now, that mutant was by her side all the time, receiving the looks and smiles that Jaemin had spent years begging for.

And then, that night, everything fell apart.

He saw them.

It was late, and the mansion's hall was empty. Jaemin was descending the stairs when he abruptly stopped upon seeing a scene that made his blood boil.

Y/N was leaning against one of the marble columns, her fingers gently sliding over Sunghoon's face.

He held her waist, his gaze filled with something Jaemin had never seen before. Something raw. Something human.

And then it happened.

Sunghoon leaned in, hesitating at first, but soon gathered his courage, pressing his lips against hers.

The first kiss.

Not a rehearsed kiss.

Not an ordered kiss.

But a genuine kiss.

Jaemin felt something break inside him.

The fury took over his body like an uncontrollable flame. He clenched his fists and felt his nails dig into his own skin.

That couldn't go on.

Sunghoon needed to be reminded of who he was.

And, above all, of whom he could never have.

The anger burned in Jaemin like a corrosive poison.

He couldn't erase the scene from his mind: Sunghoon holding Y/N as if he had some right over her. As if he were a real man and not a purchased object. As if that kiss meant something beyond a stupid illusion.

No.

This needed to end.

That same night, when Y/N went to take a shower, Jaemin found Sunghoon alone in the room. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, with a calm expression and perfect posture, as if he belonged there. As if he had completely forgotten where he came from.

Great. He would make a point of reminding him.

Jaemin: Stand up. (Jaemin ordered, his voice low and dangerous)

Sunghoon slowly raised his eyes. Something inside them shone... Confidence? Challenge?

Jaemin gritted his teeth.

Jaemin: I said... standing up.

This time, Sunghoon obeyed. But something in the way he moved made Jaemin want to destroy him. The way he didn't lower his head. The way he seemed to believe he belonged to Y/N.

Jaemin: You forgot what it is, didn't you? (Jaemin laughed, coldly) Do you think you're more than a pet now?

Sunghoon didn't answer. But there was something in the way he stood still, as if he were waiting.

Jaemin: You need to remember (Jaemin murmured, getting closer until he was just a few centimeters away) And I will make sure that happens.

Before Sunghoon could react, Jaemin grabbed the collar around his neck and pressed the button on the remote.

The scream that tore through Sunghoon's throat was dry and desperate.

He fell to his knees at that very moment, his hands gripping the collar as his body convulsed with unbearable pain. The shock burned inside, destroying any strength he had.

Jaemin crouched down beside him, gripping his face roughly.

Jaemin: You should never have touched her.

Sunghoon gasped, his chest rising and falling with difficulty. His eyes were cloudy, but even amidst the pain, he didn't break. He didn't cry.

And that just made Jaemin press the button again.

Sunghoon's scream echoed through the mansion.

But Jaemin didn't mind.

He just smiled.

Y/N knew something was wrong the moment they opened the bedroom door.

The metallic smell in the air. The absence of any sound.

So, she saw.

Sunghoon was on the ground, his knees bent, his chest heaving as if each breath were a struggle. His arms trembled, and his hands were clenched around the collar's collar, as if he were trying to tear it off by force. The face, once serene and submissive, was pale, sweaty.

And then, slowly, he raised his eyes to her.

Y/N held their breath.

Sunghoon's eyes were... different. The submission was still there, but now there was something else. Something broken. Something desperate.

Y/N: Sunghoon… (her voice almost faltered when saying his name)

He opened his mouth to speak, but before any words came out, Jaemin appeared at the door behind her, adjusting the sleeves of his jacket with a satisfied smile.

Jaemin: You should teach your pet not to take what isn't theirs. (Jaemin said casually, as if he were talking about something trivial)

Y/N's body froze.

Y/N: What did you do?

Jaemin raised an eyebrow, amused.

Jaemin: What was necessary.

Y/N's chest rose and fell quickly. Her gaze returned to Sunghoon, who was still kneeling, his lips slightly parted, his eyes fixed on her as if she were the only thing keeping him there.

She knelt beside him, her fingers trembling as they touched his face.

He didn't move away.

He never stayed away.

But at that moment, Y/N saw something in his eyes that had never been there before.

Fear.

And it was as if something inside her broke too.

She looked at Jaemin, her hands tightly around Sunghoon.

Y/N: I swear (her voice came out low, filled with hatred) that you will regret this.

Jaemin laughed, shaking his head.

Jaemin: You talk as if you have power over something. As if he were yours.

Y/N felt Sunghoon's muscles tense under their touch. He was trembling.

She ran her hand through her hair, feeling a painful tightness in her chest.

Y/N: He is mine.

The words came out without her realizing, but upon saying them, she knew they were true.

Sunghoon closed his eyes for a moment, as if those words were all he needed to hear.

And it was there that Y/N made their decision.

She wouldn't let Jaemin touch him again.

She would free him.

The price didn't matter.

That night, Y/N didn't leave Sunghoon's side.

Ignoring any protest or look from Jaemin. He took care of him with his own hands, cleaning the cuts left by the collar, massaging the muscles stiff with pain, letting him rest his head on his lap when his body finally succumbed to exhaustion.

She ran her fingers through his dark hair, feeling her heart tighten at seeing him so vulnerable.

Y/N: I promise... (murmured against her skin) I will never let this happen again.

Sunghoon slowly opened his eyes, staring at her with that blind and devoted intensity that took her breath away.

Sunghoon: If you want this... then I believe.

He believed in her. Even after everything.

And it was there that Y/N decided.

Jaemin would pay.

The following days were silent, but full of meaning.

Y/N didn't allow Jaemin to get close to Sunghoon. She was attentive to every detail, every movement, every shadow of danger that might loom over them.

And, in the midst of it all, she was plotting.

Sunghoon started helping her without even needing explanations. He was observant, intelligent — more than Jaemin ever suspected. Each order from Y/N was followed without hesitation, each test, each small strategy.

And then, on the exact night that Y/N chose, they attacked.

Jaemin was in his office when the door slowly opened. He looked up, surprised to see Y/N standing there, alone.

She rarely went to him.

Jaemin: What happened? (he asked, swirling the whiskey glass in his hand)

She entered, her steps slow and measured.

Y/N: I need to talk.

Jaemin smiled, satisfied.

Jaemin: Finally.

He stood up, ready to approach, but before he could take a step, a shadow appeared behind him.

Fast.

Feroz.

Sunghoon.

Before Jaemin could react, Sunghoon grabbed his arms and pushed him against the table. The mutant's superhuman strength kept him immobile.

Jaemin: What the hell—?!

Jaemin shouted, but was interrupted when Y/N approached and, with steady hands, pulled something from their pocket.

The control of the collar.

Jaemin's eyes widened.

Jaemin: No.

But Y/N just smiled.

Y/N: Yes.

She pressed the button.

And then, everything happened too fast.

Sunghoon pulled the collar from his own neck, the clasp coming undone as if it had never been strong enough to hold him. Jaemin was still trying to understand what was happening when he felt the leather tighten around his throat.

The roles were reversed.

Now, it was he who was caged.

Now, it was he who was defenseless.

Y/N held the controller tightly, satisfaction shining in their eyes.

Y/N: Let's see how you handle this.

She pressed the button again.

And Jaemin fell to his knees.

Jaemin's screams echoed through the dark room.

The floor was stained with sweat, blood, and despair.

Sunghoon was next to Y/N, watching her in silence as she pressed the button on the remote again. Jaemin writhed on the floor, foam forming at the corners of his lips.

He no longer seemed like the same powerful and untouchable man.

Now, he was just a wounded animal.

And Sunghoon liked seeing him like that.

Y/N: I think he's going to faint. (in a voice heavy with coldness)

Sunghoon tilted his head, his black eyes shining under the dim light of the room.

Sunghoon: Not yet. (his voice was low, serene) Not before the true punishment.

Jaemin gasped on the ground, trying to catch his breath. His head tilted to the side, and he looked at Sunghoon with hatred in his eyes.

Jaemin: You... will... pay for this...

Sunghoon knelt beside him and held his chin with a force that made him groan in pain.

Sunghoon: No, Jaemin... (Sunghoon whispered, a small smile playing on his lips) You are the one paying.

Jaemin tried to spit on him, but Sunghoon just laughed.

It was then that he looked at Y/N.

Sunghoon: I heard his conversation with the museum owner. (Sunghoon said softly) He said he never touched you.

Jaemin froze.

The silence that followed was heavier than any scream of pain.

Y/N felt a shiver run down her spine upon seeing Sunghoon's gaze. She knew. She knew what that meant.

Sunghoon: That... would destroy you, wouldn't it? (Sunghoon continued, leaning closer to Jaemin) Knowing that she never wanted you. Never gave you anything. But she wants me.

Jaemin's eyes widened, and Y/N held their breath.

Sunghoon turned his gaze to her, and his expression changed completely. The fierce look softened, and he approached slowly.

Sunghoon: But... (his voice became a whisper) Do you want this?

Y/N's heart was pounding.

She wanted him.

I wanted it so much it hurt.

But there was something inside her that hesitated. He had been used before. Touched by hands he did not desire.

She didn't want to be just another person to hurt him.

Y/N: I... (she wet her lips, hesitant) Sunghoon... and if…

He raised his hand and touched her face with a gentleness that made her gasp.

Sunghoon: I want you. (his voice was sincere, raw, filled with emotion) Only you.

Y/N felt something inside her shatter.

The hesitation disappeared.

Jaemin watched everything without being able to say a word. He knew. He knew that would be the end.

And when Sunghoon held Y/N by the waist and pulled her against him, he knew he was right.

The true hell for Jaemin was just beginning.

The room was filled with a thick, suffocating tension. The only sound was Jaemin's ragged breathing, still trying to recover from the pain, and the erratic rhythm of Y/N's heart.

Sunghoon was too close, his warm body against hers. His black wings enveloped them both, creating a cocoon of darkness where only they existed.

Sunghoon: I want you. (Sunghoon repeated, his voice low, almost pleading) Only you.

Y/N held his face between her hands, her fingers caressing his pale skin. The black eyes were filled with something intense, something he barely understood, but that desired her with everything he had.

Y/N: If it's too much... (she started, but he interrupted her)

Sunghoon: You are my first choice. (Sunghoon whispered against her lips) I want this. I want to feel you. I want to know what it's like.

It was enough for any hesitation to disappear.

The desire had been burning in Y/N for days, the hunger growing with each touch, with each submissive glance he cast her way. Now, she had him there, ready, surrendering without reservations.

And Jaemin was watching everything.

Sunghoon kissed Y/N with a mixture of need and adoration. His mouth was warm, eager, desperate to know her in every way. His hands slid over her body, hesitant at first, but soon firm, learning how to touch her.

The control of the collar slipped from Y/N's hands as she pulled Sunghoon closer, her nails scratching his back, feeling the tense muscles under her fingers.

Sunghoon: You are beautiful... (he murmured between kisses, each word laden with reverence) Perfect.

Jaemin groaned in frustration on the floor, but neither of them looked at him. He no longer existed at that moment.

Sunghoon laid Y/N on the table, his dark eyes scanning her body as if he were seeing something sacred. His hands slid slowly, tracing every curve, every shiver, while his lips explored her skin.

Y/N felt adored, desired in a way they had never felt before.

Sunghoon: Tell me what to do... (Sunghoon asked, his voice trembling, his lips parted in a silent plea)

Y/N's heart melted.

She guided his hands, showed him what she wanted, how she wanted it. And he obeyed every command, each of her moans being a reward for his devotion.

The movements started slow, but soon became urgent, desperate. Sunghoon trembled against her, his eyes closed in pure ecstasy.

Sunghoon: Is this... is this good? (he asked, panting, as if he needed her validation)

Y/N smiled against his skin, holding his face with both hands.

Y/N: It's perfect. You are perfect.

Sunghoon groaned, pressing his forehead against hers.

And then, finally, he surrendered completely.

Pleasure enveloped them like a storm, consuming them mercilessly. Sunghoon held Y/N tightly, as if fearing she would disappear, his warm breath against her neck.

Sunghoon trembled against Y/N, his eyes half-closed in pure confusion and pleasure.

She guided him with patience, with affection, as if each of her touches were something precious, something he should savor slowly. Her hands glided over his skin, feeling the muscles contract under her touch.

He had never experienced this before.

He never knew he could desire something beyond what was imposed on him.

And now, Y/N was there, teaching him that pleasure could be given, not taken.

Sunghoon gasped when her lips brushed against his chest, slowly descending. His breath caught in his throat, and he looked down, confused.

Sunghoon: What…? (he couldn't finish the sentence)

Y/N smiled, their fingers tracing the firm line of his abdomen before descending to his penis.

Y/N: Trust me. (his voice was a whisper, a promise)

He trusted.

I would always trust.

Sunghoon propped himself up on his elbows, watching her as she slid down.

The air escaped from his lungs with a sob when her lips brushed the tip of his member.

Sunghoon: Y/N… (he trembled, his entire body shivering)

She looked at him, her eyes shining under the dim light of the room.

Y/N: Has anyone ever touched you like this? (the question was asked gently, but he felt its weight)

He swallowed hard, shaking his head.

Sunghoon: Never... (his voice was a whisper) No one... has ever done this to me.

Y/N's eyes softened.

Y/N: So, I want you to just feel.

And then, she enveloped him with her lips, slowly and deeply.

Sunghoon shouted.

Pleasure hit him like a shock, an intense shiver running down his spine.

He had never felt anything like this before.

It has always been something forced, painful, impersonal. But this? That was warmth, it was softness, it was desire.

He grabbed the papers that were under the table, his eyes wide, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

Sunghoon: Y/N… (your name slipped from his lips like a pleading moan)

She devoured him patiently, savoring every reaction from him, every interrupted sigh. Her hands held his thighs, keeping him in place while she explored every inch with her tongue.

Sunghoon didn't know what to do.

I didn't know where to put my hands, how to contain the overwhelming pleasure that surged through my body like a furious wave.

Y/N: Is it good? (Y/N murmured against him, their warm breath making him tremble)

Sunghoon: Yes... (the answer came out in a drawn-out moan) It's so... so good…

He didn't want it to end.

I didn't want that touch to disappear.

It was as if, for the first time, someone was touching him because they wanted to, because they desired to.

And it made his heart ache in a way he didn't understand.

He grabbed her hair, not to force her, but because he needed to hold her, needed to feel that it was real.

Sunghoon: I… I don't... I don't know how long... (he could barely form words)

Y/N smiled at him.

Y/N: Just give in.

And he surrendered.

Pleasure took him violently, his eyes closing tightly as his body arched beneath her. He moaned her name like a prayer, his fingers gripping until his knuckles turned white.

It was intense.

It was liberating.

It was the first time that pleasure was not something taken from him.

It was given.

And when he finally opened his eyes, he found Y/N watching him, her lips slightly swollen, a glimmer of satisfaction and tenderness in her gaze.

Sunghoon pulled her up, hugging her tightly, burying his face in her neck.

Sunghoon: Thank you… (his voice was hoarse, almost inaudible)

Y/N stroked his hair, smiling against his skin.

Y/N: Always.

Jaemin was sobbing on the floor, devastated.

Y/N smiled, satisfied.

The revenge was complete.

Sunghoon didn't care about him anymore.

There was only Y/N.

And he wanted her forever.

The silence was almost absolute, except for the heavy breathing of Sunghoon and Y/N, still wrapped in the heat of the moment. Jaemin was lying on the floor, his body trembling, his eyes fixed on them with a hatred that mingled with pure despair.

He was devastated.

Sunghoon watched him for a moment, his chest rising and falling slowly as he absorbed what had happened. Something inside him felt different, as if an invisible chain had been broken.

He felt free.

But it still wasn't enough.

Sunghoon reluctantly stepped away from Y/N, standing up. He approached Jaemin, his dark eyes shining with something dangerous.

Jaemin tried to pull away, but the collar around his neck kept him restrained.

Sunghoon: What happened? (Sunghoon asked in a calm tone, but laden with irony) Didn't you like the show?

Jaemin grunted, his face red with anger.

Jaemin: You... bastard... (he tried to get up, but Sunghoon pressed a foot against his chest, pushing him back to the ground)

Y/N: Be careful with what you say. (the voice of Y/N cut through the air, smooth but lethal)

Jaemin swallowed hard. For the first time, it seemed he truly understood that he no longer had control.

Sunghoon bent down, his fingers gripping the collar control. He twirled it between his fingers, experiencing the feeling of power.

For years, he lived under the dominion of this pain, feeling each shock as a reminder that he was not his own master.

Now, it was different.

He had control.

He pressed the button.

Jaemin screamed, his body arching on the ground as electricity coursed through his spine. 

His skin glistened with cold sweat, his eyes rolling for a moment.

Sunghoon observed everything with a neutral, almost indifferent expression.

Y/N approached slowly, kneeling beside Sunghoon. His hand slid over his, guiding his fingers to press the button once more.

Jaemin let out a groan of pain, his resistance breaking more with each passing second.

Sunghoon: You liked doing this with me, didn't you? (Sunghoon asked, tilting his head) Now do you understand what it's like to be on the other side?

Jaemin opened his mouth to say something, but all that came out was a weak groan.

Y/N: You are nothing but a pathetic piece of trash. (Y/N whispered near his ear) And now, you will pay for everything.

Sunghoon pulled Jaemin by the collar, their faces just centimeters apart.

Sunghoon: What happened? Got nothing to say? (he mocked, a dark smile appearing on his lips) It's not fun when you're not the one in control, is it?

Jaemin gasped, his body completely surrendered to suffering.

Y/N took the collar key and looked at Sunghoon.

Y/N: What are we going to do with him?

Sunghoon looked at Jaemin, analyzing him as if he were deciding the fate of an insignificant insect.

Then, a cruel smile curved his lips.

Sunghoon: I think he deserves to taste a bit of his own medicine.

Jaemin's eyes widened, the understanding of what was to come finally sinking in.

Sunghoon slid his fingers along Jaemin's neck, tugging at the collar chain before turning to Y/N.

Sunghoon: Shall we play a little more, my love?

The wicked gleam in Y/N's eyes was the only answer he needed.

The revenge was just beginning.

Jaemin trembled, his body surrendered to exhaustion and despair. The pain was eating him from the inside out, but the worst part wasn't the shock of the collar, nor the precise blows that Sunghoon dealt. The worst part was looking at Y/N and seeing the glimmer of satisfaction in their eyes.

She was enjoying seeing him like this.

And that destroyed him more than any physical pain.

Y/N approached slowly, the heels of her shoes echoing on the marble floor. She knelt beside Jaemin, holding his face between her delicate fingers.

Y/N: You wanted so much for me to look at you, didn't you? (her voice was low, almost a poisonous whisper) You wanted me to desire you... But just look at you now.

Jaemin's eyes filled with hatred, but there was something else there. Humiliation.

Sunghoon knelt beside them, the shadow of his black wings casting across the room. He smiled slightly, tilting his head.

Sunghoon:: Tell me, Jaemin… Do you regret it?

The silence was heavy.

Jaemin didn't respond.

Sunghoon grabbed the collar remote and pressed the button again, making Jaemin scream, his body bending in pain.

Sunghoon: I asked... (Sunghoon whispered against his ear, his fingers gliding softly over Jaemin's sweaty skin) Do you regret it?

Jaemin was gasping, tears welling up in his eyes. His body no longer had the strength to resist.

Jaemin: Y-yes...

Y/N smiled, satisfied.

Y/N: Too bad it's too late.

She looked at Sunghoon, who already understood what she meant.

He pulled Jaemin by the hair, forcing him to look at him one last time.

Y/N: You won't hurt anyone anymore.

And then, Sunghoon broke his neck with a single move.

A crack echoed through the room.

Jaemin's body fell lifeless to the ground, his eyes still wide open.

Sunghoon stood still for a moment, looking at him. He felt something new within himself.

Freedom.

But it wasn't Jaemin's absence that gave her that feeling.

It was Y/N.

He turned to her, his wings fully spreading.

Sunghoon: It's over. (he murmured)

She smiled softly, extending her hand to him.

Y/N: Come with me.

Sunghoon didn't hesitate. He took her hand and pulled her close, wrapping her in a tight embrace.

Sunghoon: Am I free now? (he asked, his voice heavy with emotion)

Y/N ran their fingers through his hair, their eyes softening.

Y/N: Yes, my love. You are free.

He held her close, inhaling her perfume, feeling her warmth.

So, he smiled.

Sunghoon: If freedom means being without you... then I never want to be free.

Y/N felt her heart tighten in her chest, an intense emotion taking over her.

She held his face and kissed him, slowly, deeply, sealing her promise.

Sunghoon was no longer a collectible piece.

He was hers.

And, for the first time, it was a choice.

Y/N: Let's finish what we started.

Y/N slid their fingers gently across his face.

✿ If you don't reblog and comment, you can be sure I'll be showing up in your dreams tonight... and I won’t be as sweet as in the story ✿