#... and whether or not they end up with ash on top of him and they make out is um. not important

[silverselfshippingchaos]

this animation is so cute!

I don't think matt is much of a morning person... would some kisses help?

[yamujiburo]

You said you like sharing Team Rocket facts, sooo, what are some of your favourite facts that you don't get to share often or think not many people know? :D

Yam's Top 10 Team Rocket Fun Facts!

Jessie and James are both 25 years old

Jessie and James are NOT siblings (you'd be surprised how many people think they are). They have almost polar opposite backstories from each other.

James grew up rich but ran away from home at a young age because of all the pressure as well as his arranged marriage with Jessebelle (who looks exactly like Jessie funnily enough)

Jessie's mother, referred to as Miyamoto, was also a Team Rocket operative who worked directly under Giovanni's mother Madame Boss. However Miyamoto went MIA while on a mission looking for Mew and never came back, leaving Jessie to grow up in foster care

Jessie and James in English are named after the outlaw Jesse James which most people seem to know about. Buuut in Japanese, they're called Musashi and Kojiro, named after the famous swordsmen Miyamoto Musashi and Sasaki Kojiro. Musashi kills Kojiro so do with that what you will. Sub fun fact: Musashi and Kojiro's duel is referenced in Sun and Moon with Jessie battling Ash and using the sun to temporarily blind him and Pikachu before striking.

The Team Rocket trio are based off of the Time Skeletons from Time Bokan, who are probably the earliest version of the very specific trope "san-aku" (literally translated to three evil). The trope usually depicts one female leader and two bumbling men, one short and one tall. They also regularly build mechs/robots and beef with kids. In Sun in Moon, they DIRECTLY reference the Time Skeletons!

When the Johto series came to an end a decision had to be made on whether Misty or Team Rocket would leave the series. Head writer Takeshi Shudo fought really hard to keep Team Rocket (I think it's safe to say that they were his favorite characters). Seeing how Team Rocket stayed in the series till the very end, I think it's obvious to see what the end result of that decision was

The reason Jessie, in later seasons of Pokémon doesn't smack around James and Meowth as much/at all is because her voice actress, Megumi Hayashibara personally requested that the writers make her less violent. She felt it went against the "good natured villain" concept Takeshi Shudo originally had for them. On Hayashibara, Jessie's "failed nurse" backstory is based on Hayashibara's experience in trying to become a nurse.

James' love for sports and racing is often depicted in the show and is a reference to his VA, Shinichiro Miki's, love for cars and racing.

The reason Team Rocket crossdresses is literally just because the artists thought James looked better in a dress than Jessie did and ran with it

[moonbaby26]

Their Favorite Parts

*crossposted to AO3 here*

Prompt: One Piece men and the parts of your body that they fixate on most. 

Reader Type: GN!Reader

Characters: Doflamingo, Kuzan/Aokiji, Crocodile, Smoker, Buggy, Mihawk, Shanks, Law

Warnings: language, references to sex, penetration, oral, and foreplay

Fic Masterlist

———————————

Doflamingo/Holes

He actually can be gentle with you. But you’ve found that level of care is always only a precursor to something else that he wants. And in the end, he can’t ever let you back to sleep until he’s been inside at least one of your holes and fully spent himself within it. 

Whether this wretched man is pounding between your thighs, or probing you with those long fingers, or dampening you with that equally obscene tongue…he wants to be as deep inside of you as he can possibly be. 

He loves you most when you’re trembling, thighs spread beneath him. Or on your knees looking up as your eyes water with your mouth full of his length. He’ll tell you what a good pet you are even as you plead or choke. 

But it’s as if you were made perfectly for him. He’ll never feel this with another lover. You’re his favorite until he destroys it all. And even then, he may just pull you from the ash to start with you again. Because he would sincerely miss you in his next empire.

Kuzan/Aokiji/Chest

He loves to sleep with his head on your chest. He can hear your heartbeat then and know that you’re still really there. That this isn’t all some terrible illusion, as much as he still feels he doesn’t deserve you and can’t keep you. 

His life has been too complicated. All the way from a respected, yet conflicted marine to whatever the hell people are calling him these days. But you never seem to judge him. You still believe in him, even now. He doesn’t understand your loyalty, but he loves you for it. 

And when the two of you are awake and intimate, he’ll be behind you, hands holding your warm chest as his fingers massage it. The way you lean back into him as your chill bumps form is so trusting. You know that he could freeze your heart in an instant if he chose to. But of course he never would. He wants this to last forever. He needs you at his side.

Sir Crocodile/Hips

He is certain you do it on purpose by now. The way your ever tight clothing forms around your body. It feels like a specific challenge you’ve made against him. As if you are daring his eyes not to follow you across the room as your hips sway while you walk. 

You’re his favorite assassin already. Though perhaps he can take some blame for letting this favoritism start to go to your head. And yet, even when he plans to punish you, he finds himself enjoying it too much. It’s hard to keep you humble when he’s still moaning your name as he fucks you over the top of his desk. 

With his one hand he grabs into that fleshy hip, riding you to his release as his hook stays warningly against the side of your face. But while you smirk against that curved metal as he finally cums, he knows you haven’t learned your lesson at all. Yet he also realizes that there are still years of this game to come. You’re too efficient to get rid of you anytime soon.

Smoker/Lips

It was the first thing he ever noticed about you. Just how pouty your lips could look, even as you argued and bitched at him on the battlefield. You cursed him through those lips, always lamenting that he made your shared marine ship smell like an ashtray. 

And by the time he’d found his way into your bunk one night, those same lips were about the only thing he would put his cigars down for. He’d wanted to kiss you for so long. By the time you finally let him, he never wanted to lose that high again. 

It could be soft, it could be rough. Just like you and your ever changing moods. You acted like you hated him until your mouth was over his. Then you were thrusting against him soon enough and whimpering even as you both knew you couldn’t wake the rest of the ship. 

He always started and ended sex with you with those damned lips. And every time he knew curses would be flying from them again tomorrow, even if his name would also be moaning out through them just as passionately each night.

Buggy/Butt

His life was a circus. And not just in the literal way he would have preferred. Somehow every move he made garnered new success, but equal terror. He never knew what tomorrow would bring. As Cross Guild’s infamy grew, so did his reputation along with it. 

But his nerves were shot, and you could tell. When the others bullied him, you never added to it. He hadn’t a clue why you’d chosen him. But he wouldn’t take it for granted either as you’d come to sit in his lap, late at night in his room. You’d call him your captain, your emperor even, grinding that perfect ass into him as you tried to cheer him up. 

And it always worked. As he’d a bit too desperately slide your pants from you, you always humored him. Letting his hands massage and hold that enticing rear. If he wanted to spank you, you let him do that too. It was just so soft and…comforting? He might not admit it, but you were his only remaining stability in this place. If he lost you, that would have been his breaking point. But he trusted you too when you promised that you were in it for the long haul. He was already your pirate king.

Mihawk/Eyes

It was the way you’d looked at him that first time the two of you had ever crossed paths. You weren’t afraid of his history, even as you’d seen him kill a lesser swordsman right in front of you. 

By the time he got to know you better, he’d realized just how much he liked to gaze into those eyes. It was as if he could feel what you were thinking. And as your confidence grew, that ‘come hither’ look of yours became far more prominent as well. 

Just with a glance, he knew exactly when you were craving to have those physical needs sated. And he certainly respected that need, finding it rather quickly a mutual one as he’d often carry you to his bed. 

And even then as his hips would be pumping skillfully against your own, you’d be looking up at him in a haze of pleasure with those same beautiful eyes. A view for him alone, one he would cherish and protect forever more.

Shanks/Legs

It might have been a bit too crass on his part, that afternoon in the bar when he’d first noticed you from across the room. But his ship wouldn’t be in port for long. There wasn’t time to play this subtle. No, not at all as he’d whistled loudly, catcalling you while his crew had laughed. 

He’d gotten the full view as well when those same lovely legs had carried you right back up to the bar to tell him to go fuck himself. And the way he’d smiled at you just pissed you off even further of course. 

Your anger made you stay. And it was definitely a talent of his to inspire that, but he was persistent too. Soon enough you’d let him buy you a drink, and then a few more. By the time the two of you had been stumbling out of the bar, you were letting him know your room number at the nearby inn. You wanted to know if he was just all talk. He assured you that he was not.

And that night as he did get the privilege of those legs being wrapped around him as your bed creaked and shook in a marathon of lovemaking, he realized his crew probably could find more room on the ship. You had no ties to this town either. 

By morning he was more than pleased when you agreed to board. Beck had protested a little, just at the sudden impracticality of yet another mouth to feed. But Shanks knew you would fit in fine, all of you and those legs laying in his bunk warm beside him for years to come on your way through the New World.

Law/Hands

With an epithet like the Surgeon of Death, he of course knew better than most on the importance of dexterity and skill with the hands. Without his own, he felt that he would have been useless. 

But this appreciation for such talent had quickly extended to you once he’d finally given in. He’d ignored you for as long as he could, too logical in his understanding of how reckless it’d be to pursue a member of his own crew. But so many days and nights alone under the ocean’s surface had finally worn him down. 

The night on the Polar Tang when those skillful fingers of yours had finally been in his hair, and finally unbuttoning his pants soon after was one that had been so long coming. You’d gotten to see that other side of him then as he unraveled almost shamefully beneath your stroking and assurances. 

He’d taken care of everyone else for so long you told him, playing the part of their stoic leader. But you knew he was far from only that as your hands drew out all his pent up need. 

You promised him that he was safe with you. That you were with him until the end. And it was all true. The captain of the Heart Pirates would remain within your capable hands for as long as he desired to. And that desire would prove to be unbreakable.

[vxsellie]

UHH IM THER PERSON WHO ASKED FOR FIREFIGHTER!ElLLIE HEADCANONS AND TBH IDRM😇

synopsis. more aflame headcannons bc anon sent a second ask saying they actually want it to be specific LMAO

notes. when i tell you my inbox is flooded with questions about aflame / whether there will be a part two / etc etc etc, i mean it's FLOODED. ive said no to a part two, but i decided doing this for u guys might settle u down & put a rest to the millions of asks i get daily on that fic also! i already posted a small thing about ellie & the reader's life together following the story, but i will be repeating things from that post

warnings. mentions of grief (unnamed character dw), discussion of infant death (also unnamed but still a bit heavy), eventual sex (not necessarily smut but enough that i feel i should put a warning)

𐙚 after everything, you ended up staying with ellie for about a month

𐙚 okay so you obviously ended up staying with her & lived happily ever after

𐙚 but lets yap about the slow burn era that inevitably took place beforehand shall we

𐙚 first of all! for the first two weeks, she gave you her room and insisted on sleeping on the couch. you, of course, felt horribly guilty. but ellie was set on giving you the good option & she's quite the force to be reckoned with when she's arguing.

𐙚 so you eventually just gave in and slept in her bed.

𐙚 it was warm and clean and smelled like her. you loved it. the only thing it was missing, however, was her.

𐙚 to make matters worse, you knew ellie was only a short distance from you & yet it felt like you were eons apart. you felt the empty space in her bed like a hole in the earth, always hard to face whilst simultaneously always begging for your attention.

𐙚 understandably, these two weeks spent in separate sleeping quarters was nigh unbearable for you. but you felt out of place to bring it up. i mean, you'd only known her for a short amount of time. who were you to tell her to change the layout she'd si graciously designed for you?

𐙚 you spent the nights yearning for a woman whose touch you'd barely known, cold despite the heavy blankets atop you.

𐙚 but the days were amazing.

𐙚 you'd developed the habit of cooking breakfast after making it that first morning as a thanks for her hospitality. but after seeing the bright look on her face, you'd instantly decided you wanted to make her breakfast every day for the rest of your life.

𐙚 then, following breakfast, you'd get ready in the small bathroom. the first few days, you bumped into one another an immeasurable number of times, ellie apologizing over & over for the lack of space. but you loved it. it felt more intimate, seeing her rush while brushing her teeth because she'd woken up late. it felt like a life you could get used to. one with her.

𐙚 ellie continued to go to work, throwing on her uniform that you tried your hardest not to swoon over seeing her in. that thin black tank top she wears without a bra? fuck you had to force yourself to look away when she stretched her arms up to brush her hair.

𐙚 when she was gone, you spent your time looking for a new place to stay, lazing about the couch with the tv playing low in the background.

𐙚 oh and also! your fucking boss fired you. despite having worked at that stupid grocer for a year now, he didn't hesitate to fire you after missing a few days. you'd even told him that your apartment burned down. he was insistent that punctuality was key. god you hated him.

𐙚 though, your hatred dulled in comparison to the pure rage ellie felt when you told her the news. she was absolutely appalled that someone could be so inhumane as to not give a damn that your home was now a pile of ash on some pavement. she begged you for his number, promising not to say anything bad. but you knew her better than that. you knew she'd call him insults that'd destroy his elderly pea brain. so, apologetically, you refused her his phone number.

𐙚 so, while ellie was away, you also browsed your laptop for open job opportunities near you.

𐙚 ellie said that she could talk miller into hiring you, but you weren't so sure the life of firefighting was for you. plus, you liked seeing ellie in her uniform without having to experience the obligations that come with it.

𐙚 when ellie got home from work every day, she'd be sweaty and gross and exhausted. she'd formed the habit of flopping down on the couch as soon as she gets home, but you've managed to rid her of that once you saw the grimy muck she'd left on the cushions. she's now learned to shower and change before getting on any furniture. honestly, she seems to like that habit more anyway. she refuses to admit it, but you can tell she enjoys the warm water relaxing her muscles and washing away her fatigue.

𐙚 amber also loved it there, alternating between cuddling up with you in ellie's bed or snuggling at ellie's feet on the couch.

𐙚 well, until the day you guys decided to sleep in the same bed.

𐙚 she had come home after a particularly taxing day at work — the first rescue she'd carried out since saving you. it was a single mother and two twin infants. one of the twins didn't make it, sending the mother into a grief ridden spiral. she was sobbing and angry and needed someone to blame. she ended up blaming ellie, the woman whose name she didn't even know. it was horrible. not that ellie could blame her for it. grief comes in every shape and form, and for this woman she just so happened to take the sharp end of the sword.

𐙚 ellie, being who she was, stayed relatively composed during the event itself. the woman banged on her chest as she wailed, shouting that she should have done more and she would have preferred to have burned.

𐙚 eventually, one of Ellie's coworkers dragged the woman away from her and ellie was excused to go home early.

𐙚 when she got back, she was absolutely distraught.

𐙚 you had just made a new recipe and were waiting in the kitchen for ellie to return with a bright grin on your face. but the moment she walked through the door, your smile shattered.

𐙚 her uniform was scorched and torn, her face lined with filth. and, oh, her expression was heart wrenching. her lips were parted, eyes blank as they stared at the floor. she trudged into the living space, shoulders trembling ever so slightly, and flopped down onto the sofa in a manner you hadn't seen her do in quite some time.

𐙚 you were quick to rush to her side, crouching down beside her as you asked what happened. in a shaky voice, she explained that she'd gotten a baby killed. the pure regret and guilt in her tone made your heart crumble a little in your chest.

𐙚 you moved to sit on the edge of the couch, pulling ellie into your arms as you held her. the feel of your body against hers was all it took for her to break down into tears.

𐙚 she tried her hardest to remain dignified, tears falling silently. but when you began to run your hands through her hair and mutter sweet words of consolations, her cries were less orderly as she clung to you and repeated over & over how it was all her fault.

𐙚 for the rest of that night, she was unable to leave your side. she made you sit on the toilet while she showered. then she made you stay in the bathroom while she changed (you turned around). then you two ate dinner together on the couch while watching a funny adult cartoon to cheer her up, your legs touching at all times.

𐙚 so, when it came time for bed, you'd have been cruel not to offer her the empty space beside you.

𐙚 to say she was excited would be an understatement.

𐙚 you guys laid in silence for a bit, comfortable in the company of the other. but then she spoke into the darkness, her tone thick with the weight of all she'd bore that day. she explained everything in more detail, telling you the story without the bias of her guilt.

𐙚 her voice cracked when she got to the boy's death, her voice pitching higher as she fought a second wave of tears.

𐙚 you shifted toward her, sheets rustling in the darkness. you felt around for her, hand eventually finding her body. you pulled her into a warm embrace, holding all of her vulnerability and grief in your two arms as she relaxed into you, melting against the foreign gentility.

𐙚 after that night, you guys started sharing the bed.

𐙚 amber loved it, of course. both her people in one space? absolute heaven for the elderly cat. some nights, she would curl up in the crook behind your knees & other times she'd find comfort atop ellie's face, causing her to wake coughing and hacking up balls of fur.

𐙚 your guys life was one of (much deserved) bliss and domestic comfort after a long period of difficulty.

𐙚 you had yet to do anything actually romantic. but sharing the home felt just as intimate as kissing would have been. though, you ought to admit, you definitely had your fair share of fantasies when it came to that.

𐙚 anyway!

𐙚 and all the while, you sought out a new place to stay

𐙚 you didn't want to move out of ellie's tiny cottage of a home, but you'd have felt horrible asking her to stay permanently when your relationship wasn't even a solidified thing just yet. and so, you searched the internet for worthy places to house you.

𐙚 ellie avoided the topic of you finding a new home, changing the subject whenever it came up & trying to distract you with something else whenever she saw you were looking at houses. you caught on to this, of course. but frankly, you found it endearing and just let it be. you didn't want to draw attention to her blatant distaste for you leaving, for fear that it'd embarrass her. so you feigned oblivion.

𐙚 ellie went with you to every open-house, claiming she just wanted to watch out for creepy realtors. however, whenever you seemed to genuinely like a house, ellie would find something to complain about to make you no longer want to buy it

𐙚 at first, you let it slide because you knew the two of you were beginning to form some kind of bond.

𐙚 but you eventually had to butt in when you spotted her paying off a realtor when they'd both thought you were checking out a different room. she apologized endlessly for it, but never gave an explanation until you practically forced it out of her, asking what the hell she thought she was doing.

𐙚 that's when it all unraveled.

𐙚 on the property of some random shabby house in an impoverished neighborhood, in a kitchen composed of rotted wood cabinets and peeling wallpaper and chipped floor tiles, ellie confessed her feelings for you. and it couldn't have been more perfect.

𐙚 the realtor had obviously left the scene beforehand, fleeing from shock when you'd walked in on him accepting a wad of cash from ellie.

𐙚 and there you stood, in the hollow house, her words of adorations echoing off the walls. her eyes were everywhere but your face, avoiding making eye contact with you. eventually, you'd grown sick of her rambling and just grabbed her by the cheeks and kissed her.

𐙚 it was a quick peck. a small pressing of lips, just to test the waters and silence her uncertainty. when you pulled back, her face still between your hands, her pupils were blown and her jaw was slackened. you laughed at her, a chuckle rumbling your chest.

𐙚 she gasps, offended by your judgement. but you couldn't stop laughing. she eventually reconnected your mouths, her turn to silence you.

𐙚 this kiss was far more passionate, her hands coming to rest on your hips as her tongue slid across your lower lip. you opened your mouth to allow her entry & she took it vehemently, tongue exploring the warmth of your mouth.

𐙚 from then on, you guys were inseparable in a whole new fashion. the moment you'd gotten home that day, she dragged your straight to the bedroom and memorized the curves and dips of your body with her tongue, giving so much care to your being that you were sure she'd eventually run out of love to give.

𐙚 your hands gripped the tufts of her hair as she buried her face between your legs and continued her memorization down there, your head thrown back in pleasure.

𐙚 you'd eventually lost count of how many rounds the two of you went, a thick layer of sweat clinging to your skin as she shyly asked if you had anything left in you. and of course, you could never deny her anything. you giggled before rolling over to tackle her to the bed, eyes full of nothing short of love.

𐙚 you two only stopped when pounding could be heard on the door.

𐙚 ellie rushed to pull her clothes back on as you did the same, her voice shouting at the visitor to just wait a damn second. though, when she opened the door, it was agnes.

𐙚 she pushed past ellie and went straight to you, though you were still pulling a shirt over your head.

𐙚 she beckoned the two of you to the living room, you and ellie both flushed and out of breath as you sat down across from her. every time you two made eye contact, you had to look away before you hopped right across that table and fucked her again.

𐙚 agnes made small talk for a little bit, asking you about work & whether you'd found another place to stay. though, when you shyly explained that you were planning to live with ellie, she scoffed loudly and said,

𐙚 "oh, finally! i was waiting for one of you to tell me. i'm not a fool, dear, i can tell you've been fucking like rabbits. just didn't know i'd have to force it outta you."

𐙚 from there on out, it was no longer awkward. she was herself again, making suggestive comments to you and passive aggressive ones to ellie. and when amber came up to her for cuddles, she stayed for another two hours just holding the cat.

𐙚 needless to say, you and ellie managed quite well. you have yourself the most perfect life you could ask for and all the family you could need (even if it's just agnes barging in on you guys whenever she pleases). honestly, you couldn't ask for anything else.

[lych33dragoncookie]

Only the masterpieces that survive the fiercest flames earn their place in history.

(Analysis post)

Alright, they absolutely cooked this update. Like, undeniably so. I was admittedly not that huge of a fan of the last 2 beast yeast chapters we got; they had really good ideas, and Mystic Flour is a wonderful character, but... Dark Cacao hasn't really been done enough with for it to feel like it had the amount of weight it could have, and it really doesn't feel like much about him actually changed at all. Combine that with a complete lack of interesting dynamics and you have a lot of very good and genuinely pretty well thought out story concepts with extensive cultural research, executed in a way that feels more like a traditional old-school story that weakens the attachment the audience feels to the components of said story.

Here, though? I have no complaints so far. It was absolutely wild in fact, to the point where I don't think it's gonna happen again (nor am I entirely sure it should ever happen again). This was back to back, non-stop, smack to the face one after the other. The moment the first point of conflict came up, it was just shit happening left and right; even in the mandatory moment of rest where we chill out for a bit, it's revealed that hey, these sandstorms? Yeah the sand is actually ashes. It's the remains of all the people that live here. Whether they died off on their own or were killed by someone else.

And if that wasn't enough, very shortly after;

... It's fucking crack.

So, people die and kill each other here very frequently, and not only are their remains visibly on display, their ashes also become sandstorms that make it near impossible to navigate the land; on top of being something that people snort like cocaine to become more energetic and aggressive.

We started fucking wild, dude. This whole thing is pulling no punches.

Though, I do wanna note; I really, really enjoyed the interactions between Smoked Cheese and Golden Cheese. It shows not only how forgiving she is, but how these two have known each other for an incredibly long time, and know each other well. They're incredibly comfortable around each other, despite it all, and despite how brazen and Very Much Not Strategic the queen here can be. I really, really enjoyed them.

Always fun to see a recovering villain do things for good, but in their own unique way that's still not exactly heroic but definitely effective and, at times, very gratifying.

Though I enjoyed all this, there's one thing I wanna talk about above all else.

The star of the show. Note that every single part was enjoyable, of course, and he wouldn't be half as interesting without Golden Cheese Cookie to serve as a parallel, but they've cooked up something special here.

So far, Burning Spice's extent of onscreen appearance is very, very short, but... I don't think I need to tell you that he's already made an impact and a half.

Christ, that's violent. With the sound effects and everything too, god damn. But, I'd be lying if I said this wasn't a pretty superficial source of judgement for this character. It's very very telling of what kind of person he is now, what he's all about, what he's willing to do, what he likes doing, but...

More than anyone else in recent memory, the devil is in the details. So let's look at those details.

Nothing too much so far, other than how much he absolutely loves destruction, but there's already a trend; namely on "Nothing lasts forever. It's as simple as that", "In the end, everything becomes dust.", and "You, too, shall see that destruction is the only way.". There seems to be an infatuation with the natural process of everything fading away, turning to dust and dying out. An entirely honest one, believing that there is just about nothing else to life. These will be important to keep in mind.

Here, we see a bit of his current relationship with his own immortality. He doesn't seem to mind the idea of losing it, finding something that may eventually take him down, but he still takes great pride in it. These lines, in text, seem somewhat miserable (and trust me, they definitely are), but the voicework in just about every language conveys that they are said in a more neutral, even potentially proudly manner. Again, not much on their own, but...

Here's where we get into the fun part.

This. This is the crux of their character. At the start, him and Golden Cheese cookie were more or less the same. Benevolent royalty, close and personal with their subjects. Beloved, and loving.

And then, they lost it all.

One way or another, their kingdoms were lost, reduced to almost nothing. They were overcome by grief, desperate, unable to cope with their loss. One tried to latch on as hard as possible. Preserve what she could, blindly, replacing the harsh truth of reality with an idealized, constructed world, where no one would ever have to know pain ever again. She shut herself off, and retreated in the safety and peace of a false reality. She would rather have lied to both herself and all her subjects than face reality. And eventually, she had to learn to move on. Let herself and her kingdom heal more naturally, facing reality. The other, meanwhile, was desperate to let go. He detached himself, trying to move past the pain of loss. But, of course, he couldn't force it to happen. No one can. And so with the grief of losing that which he held dear, continuing to be faced with the reality that nothing is forever, over and over, while he endured, the world slowly turning to ash around them again and again... It's no wonder something in there eventually cracked.

What will it take to destroy me. Nothing is forever, and yet, I am.

Nothing is forever. And yet, I am.

With time, misery turned to mania, and in an attempt to overcome their grief, they embraced it, in the worst way possible. A coping mechanism gone horrendously wrong. That destruction, that loss, the inevitability of death... It's not painful, no. It doesn't have to be. It can be thrilling. Exhilarating. A new reason to live. If all you care about turns to dust anyways, if that's really the only logical destination... Why not have some fun with it? Why not embody that inevitable, unstoppable force? Why not become what you fear, so you no longer have to be afraid anymore?

... You know, at least that's what I think is going on here. The next chapter could contradict this reading, but... From what all we have right now, it seems like Golden Cheese and Burning Spice are two completely different paths for the exact same type of pain. They are, in a way, the same, but diverge in almost complete opposite ways where it counts.

Spice is genuinely equal parts absolutely terrifying and absolutely miserable; a balance that is incredibly hard to strike in writing, but always absolutely fascinating and wonderful to observe when it happens. I have to say, the more I found out about them, the more I couldn't keep my eyes off everything they have going on.

I'm loving every little bit of this update. Mad props to the devs for cooking something up here that I am genuinely incredibly invested in, almost to the same degree as White Lily and Dark Enchantress. Banger update. Absolute S tier material.

TL;DR: Burning Spice is terrifying, miserable, and ridiculously cool. Everything about this update was an absolute merciless flurry of consecutive gut-punches. And I loved every second of it.

... Now we sit and wait for Shadow Milk's release next year.

[sserpente]

Forgiveness of Blood

What if Tav and Astarion met a little differently? What if Tav was someone else? A half-vampire? What if Tav…was Cazador’s daughter?

A/N: *slides a plate of Astarion-shaped biscuits*

Words: 1920 Warnings: mentions of rape, murder, and abuse, violence, half vampire!Tav

The gith looked tasty enough. Perhaps the half-elf with the long black braid. Hells, even the Tiefling who was seemingly burning up from the inside out promised to be delicious—sizzling, you’d dare say.

At this point, you were desperate. Any humanoid blood would do and this group camped out in the middle of nowhere, was just perfect for satiating your needs for a few nights.

You crouched down further, remaining hidden behind the bushes and the dark shadows as you licked over your humble fangs. You hated it had come to this. One of the few advantages of being a half-vampire was that you were no slave to hunger for all things sanguine. You could walk in the sun though you burned up easily and you could eat regular food without it turning to ash in your mouth to sustain you. Still, there was no denying that blood, as much as you loathed the idea, would keep you at strength.

You’d been tumbling through the wilderness for days now. Escaping the clutches of a powerful vampire lord was one thing (especially when said vampire lord was your biological father) but escaping a horde of mind flayers? That took its toll. You shook yourself upon being reminded that Cazador’s blood ran through your very veins; you were disgusted by your own body because of it.

You only knew about half the horrors he’d inflicted on hundreds, thousands of innocents, the ones on your human mother included. Pregnancy among vampires was so rare it was nearly impossible. Your mother, may the gods be kind to her wherever she was now, had never been in love with that monster, of course. He’d taken a liking to her long ago, abducted her, kept her a prisoner in his palace until the impossible happened and she ended up with child—you.

Gods, the few childhood memories still flashing before your inner eye when you rested at night were all but devastating, lonely, and…cruel. He’d meant for you to do his bidding, to become his right hand—always by his side but never on top, of course. Only you wanted nothing to do with that. You’d seen the way he treated your mother when you were right there in your crib. You never found her body. Whatever he’d done with it…you weren’t sure you wanted to know.

You were around twelve years old when you took flight and, with the help of a servant who risked and sacrificed their life to save you, left Cazador behind for good.

Your stomach growled and you took a deep breath. He had passed part of the curse of vampirism onto you. There was nothing you could change about that, whether you wished to or not. You were wary of the berries and mushrooms growing around here though and you had no energy left in you to hunt for meat. The only thing left was…blood.

There. They’re getting ready for bed. You’d wait until they all gathered around the warm campfire and fell asleep and then…you’d strike.

“Astarion! Astarion, help!”

Shit. You pulled away from the black-haired girl whose neck you were about to sink your fangs into, ready to bolt away into the darkness. A beautiful elf who’d kept away from the fire stepped into view, blocking your escape route. He glared at you with his fists clenched, ready for a fight. Something was…different about him. You hadn’t noticed him at camp before because…your lips parted. He had no heartbeat.

“You’re a spawn.” It wasn’t a question, not really. He was unusually pale, his stunning eyes were red, and as he spoke…you saw the flash of a pair of fangs.

“What are you doing here? Who are you? You better get out before I gut you,” he spat.

“Another blood-sucker? Chk,” the gith tossed in.

You lifted your hands in defence. “I mean no harm, please.”

A dire mistake, so you realised quickly. Astarion’s gaze travelled to the silver ring on your finger—a keepsake from your mother, one that granted her access to various places and chambers in Cazador’s palace: it was a silver Szarr family ring, a small round ruby in its middle.

Astarion’s expression darkened until it was downright…murderous. You had neither the energy nor enough time to react when he lunged himself at you. Your back hit the dirty ground with a thump, pain shooting up and down your spine.

You felt the sharp blade of a dagger pressed against your throat before you saw it. It was accompanied by gasps, yet no one dared to intervene—yet.

“You came for me, didn’t you? He sent you! Answer me!” he yelled, making you flinch. Cazador.

“No! I’m not, I’m…I’m hungry, I…”

“You are not touching my companions. I still need them. Are there more? Who else did he send?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, please! Let me go!” You wriggled a little in his tight grasp.

“You’re wearing his ring. You serve him.”

“I don’t serve Cazador!” you choked out.

“So you do know what I’m talking about,” he growled.

“Please, let me up and I’ll explain.”

A man with longer hair and a beard cleared his throat. “Astarion…maybe you should hear her out. The lady seems to be very much in distress.”

“That’s how they lure you in,” Astarion retorted.

“Gale’s right, Astarion. Let’s hear what she has to say. Just like when you found me, remember?” the red-skinned tiefling added.

The spawn above you took a deep breath and released you, though his dagger remained drawn and ready to slice you open. You didn’t bother to get back up and instead, knelt on the ground in a weak attempt to prove you truly meant no harm.

“Speak before I change my mind. I do so love a midnight bloodbath.”

Chills ran up and down your spine. “I…I told you, I don’t work for Cazador. You’re…you’re one of his spawn, aren’t you? I don’t understand, why would he send people after you? Did you escape? How does he not control you?”

“We are not talking about me, we are talking about you.”

“Right.” You told him your name and offered a weak smile to the group. “I’m from Baldur’s Gate too. I have no idea where we are now though, to be honest. This is going to sound hard to believe but I was kidnapped by mind flayers.”

“Trust me,” Gale said, “it’s not as hard to believe as you might think.”

“Yeah…same thing happened to us, soldier,” the tiefling added.

“It…it did? I…I’ve been roaming the woods for weeks in search of civilisation.”

“You’re a spawn,” Astarion said, dismay swinging in his smooth voice.

“No. I’m not a spawn. I’m…I’m only half a vampire.”

Gale gasped. “A dhampir? How’s that even possible?”

“You know...” the black-haired girl you intended to bite intervened, “…when two people like each other very much, they do this thing…”

Gale snorted in response.

You nodded. “She’s right. Although…my biological parents did, in fact, not like each other when it happened. All I ever wanted was to be free from his disgusting legacy. I escaped from the palace when I was twelve years old. I don’t need blood to survive and I can walk in the sun, I just…I was so hungry I didn’t know what else to do.” You turned to the black-haired girl. “I wasn’t going to kill you. I just needed a few drops to regain my strength.”

“Huh, I think I’m having a déjà-vu.”

Meanwhile, Astarion’s face remained blank. One by one, the puzzle pieces you’d fed him fell into place—and he understood. “You…Cazador has a daughter?”

You nodded yet again. “My mother was human. She was a captive, much like you, I presume.”

“Well that certainly explains a lot,” Gale murmured.

It would all be fine now. Astarion knew the truth—he knew you weren’t here to bring him back to Cazador, and that never meant to kill any of his friends…

“You are…Cazador’s daughter,” Astarion repeated. Slowly. Dangerously so.

“I…I don’t know what he did to you. But I-I’m sorry. I’ve seen him in action, the man is a monster. I’m not like my father. I promise.”

He was still ready to kill you, you could feel it with every fibre of your being. You were not welcome here, not according to him anyway. Gods, you hated you were such an empathetic person! You couldn’t even tell whether the tears pricking your eyes were because of the crude hostility you were met with…or the fact that whatever Astarion had been through must have been even more terrible than what you had experienced living with the vampire lord.

“I’ll…I’ll leave.”

“No. You’re staying. Darling. You are going to be the perfect leverage to guarantee my freedom. And if not,”—he shrugged with a malicious smirk—“it will be a delight to kill you.”

Your blood ran cold. “Astarion…please, I…”

“Hold on! Let’s all just take a deep breath, yeah? No one is going to be leveraged here. You’re welcome to stay at our camp regardless, though. I am Karlach.” She points at herself, pleased. “It seems like you could use the company. We got food too. Real food, I mean. That’s Shadowheart, Lae’zel, Gale—but you already knew that—that over there, sleeping, is Wyll and…that’s it. Halsin’s probably still out in the woods, you’ll meet him in the morning.”

Astarion growled. “Cazazdor’s blood runs through her veins. The madness runs in the family. I ought to stake you right now. I’m keeping an eye on you.”

They let you stay. Against all reason, some space was made for you at camp and you were spared a bedroll. You couldn’t say you were a fan of sleeping under the stars but beggars couldn’t be choosers. None of them wanted to share their makeshift tent with Cazador’s daughter—and you couldn’t say you blamed them.

Regardless, no matter how much you turned and tossed, of course, sleep didn’t find you even after a quick but generous meal prepared by Gale. Astarion had been ready to kill you today. He probably had if Karlach and the others hadn’t stepped in.

And against all reason…you felt guilty. The pain in Astarion’s eyes…you’d seen your own reflected in it. Only the gods knew what he’d been through… You sighed and climbed to your feet, making your way over to his tent. Was this suicide? Quite possibly.

At first, you thought he was trancing. But then, from the corner of your eye, you saw a slight movement of his hand, one that would have been impossible to see with mere human sight. You cleared your throat.

“Astarion?”

Nothing.

“Astarion, I…I just want to say I’m sorry. I know you must hate me, I understand that. But for what it’s worth…I truly am sorry. Cazador is a monster. He killed my mother when he tired of her and only the gods know what he did with her corpse. Not a single memory I have with him is a good one. All I remember is pain, loneliness, and humiliation. We…we might share the same blood but I swear to you, I am nothing like him. If you won’t believe anything else…please believe that.”

There was no response for a while as you stood there, dumbfounded, waiting for his remarkably charming voice to sound. Then, finally…he shifted.

“I believe you.”

You breathed out audibly, relief flooding your veins. It was all he said. But for now…it was enough.

A/N: I feel like I'm going to continue this somehow. Maybe. Potentially when they're back in Baldur's Gate? Choices, choices...

[ohwaitimthewriter]

The Memory Keeper

Chapter 3: Frame

Pairing : Noa x human reader

Warning : grieving, otherwise, none!

Summarize (please I'm so bad at writing these!): A woman, allowed to live as long as the virus keeps running through her body, living on autopilot for 260 years, is going to see her life takes a new turn, finding hope in something that might come to put an end to her wandering.

Words : 3k+

A/N : Well, well, well, chapter 3 is out! Enjoy your reading 😁

The Memory Keeper masterlist.

You watched as the flame devoured the kindling and gnawed at the petals you'd carefully placed in their usual circle. It progressed slowly, longing to consume every piece of wood and petal it found in its path. Knees braced against your chest, one arm wrapped around your legs in a vain attempt to maintain the cracks you felt growing deep inside your ribcage.

Why was it getting so complicated?

A tear fell onto the frame you held, fingers shaking, above your knees. You quickly wiped it away, not wanting the moisture to stain the glass that protected the picture from the long years gone by.

Why was it so complicated? You repeated to yourself once more, wiping your nose on the sleeve of your top. You noted that you still hadn't changed for the night. You had to take a deep breath, it always helped… supposedly, it always helped, but the shaky breathing that was supposed to be helpful only allowed more tears to fall down your cheeks.

But why? Why couldn't you calm down? Why did your eyes seem to drown despite your best efforts? Why, over the past three days, had it become so difficult to even breathe normally? Why was it so difficult to keep your heart beating regularly, so regularly that you sometimes forgot you even had one?

Usually, it was easy. One or two slow, deep breaths. Your hand removing the tear drop from your skin, preventing others from joining it. Sometimes you'd close your eyes to focus on this task, and when you'd open them again, indifference would quietly resonate deep inside you.

So why tonight, for the third time, did you feel this organ so vital to your body crumbling, shattering, giving up on you a little more with each beat? Your eyes blurred, making it difficult to see the photo in the frame. No matter how much you blinked to clear your vision, it remained stubbornly blurred. But you wanted to see it… no, you had to see it, but the more you forced yourself to wipe away those tears, the more they rushed in to tangle and alter your vision. You clenched your fist around the frame as the other desperately tried to restore your sight. You had to look at him. Every night, you had to remember. You had to remember him, the features of his face, the color of his fur, the way he carried himself. You couldn't not look at him.

Unwittingly, your knuckles turned white and the pressure on the already worn wood increased. If you didn't look at him, you'd forget. You'd forget, just as you'd forgotten the words to that song you'd hummed every night as the petals turned to ash. You would forget, just as you had forgotten the faces of your parents, and of those whose existence you could only remember by their first names. You weren't allowed to forget, just as you weren't allowed to forget how to speak. So you had to look at him, you had no right to forget him.

Maybe if they had never come to your clearing, maybe you wouldn't be in this state, only three days after their arrival, three days since you seemed to be having great difficulty keeping a steady gaze. How stupid to bring them fish for three days so they could eat, so they could feel welcomed as you would have welcomed two friends back in a very distant past. How stupid of you to remember that a human, to remain human, had to give a proper welcome to his guests, whether they showed up unexpectedly or not. How stupid not to be able to keep things in perspective. How stupid. And you rubbed your eyes again and again until you felt like ripping the skin off your face, when suddenly…

A crack.

Your breathing stopped in a flash. All your muscles froze. You were no longer shaking, your heartbeat had almost stopped its frantic race and your eyes were now wide open, your tears frozen in the fear of having to look down.

The broken pieces of wood threatened to fall to the floor, and the only thing holding them together was your hand crushing the frame against your skin. The bark of the crumbling wood stuck to your hand like hundreds of grains of sand, and it was only as you loosened your fingers around the frame that your hand began to shiver again.

No.

No no no. This couldn't be happening.

The tears had become dry, allowing you to see the foolishness you'd just done. The wood of the frame had broken under the pressure, no longer able to hold the protective glass in place. The picture would end up in the open air, exposed to external aggression, exposed to moisture, exposed to time that just kept flying by without waiting for you to be ready to watch it roll by.

The picture would be damaged, the colors would fade, the events it had frozen in time would disappear along with the last image of the ape you called, with a sinking heart, your friend. And for as long as you could, you would cling to a mental image of him that would inevitably end in oblivion. You were going to forget. Of course you were going to forget. Maybe not in 1 year, 5 years or even 10. It might take you a lifetime as an uninfected human to forget, but it was going to happen. It was the only fatality of your condition, your body didn't age, but on the other hand you couldn't keep your memory intact, you had to give up part of your memories in exchange for a long life. One that was too long.

For the first time, as you firmly held the broken pieces of wood in the vain hope they would glue back together, you realized how tired you were.

In your turmoil, you'd shifted to a more cross-legged position, with the shaky frame gently placed in front of you. You had taken care to arrange the pieces of shattered wood so that they formed the frame around the glass, now detached from the frame.

With your gaze locked on Caesar, your quivering fingers rested on the glass in a gentle stroke.

“P... please forgive me, Caesar,” you whispered, your voice hoarse, almost desperate for forgiveness that would never be able to come.

You breathed in as best you could when all of a sudden, the cool wind touched your skin. The wood of the old floor creaked and you abruptly wiped away the last of the tears that had found their ways onto your cheeks.

Clearing your throat.

Rubbing your eyes. Your cheeks. Your whole face.

Brand-new you.

You looked back to where the sound had come from and your stony eyes fell on the two apes. You remembered very well having told them that it was going to rain during the night and that if, only if, they had no other choice, you would allow them, to a certain extent and with a few precautions, to enter.

How silly.

The apes weren't usually the type to fear the rain, but when you offered, almost against your will, to spend the night in your home until the rain stopped, they seized the opportunity to talk to you. To talk to you and convince you to let them keep your horse.

You could see them walking cautiously inside your house. Their eyes were everywhere, curious and careful, as if they didn't want to glance at an object, a piece of furniture, a corner of the large room that would be off-limits to them.

Noa immediately noticed your nest, which was a bit unusual; he couldn't quite work out what it was made of, certainly not branches or down, and the blanket covering it wasn't the fur of any animal you'd caught either. But he knew from the intensity of your scent on the fabric that this was where you slept. He looked away quickly. This was your nest, and if you had allowed them in, checking out your nest and judging it would be seen as disrespectful by his people. He at least wish it was comfortable for you.

It didn't take long for his eyes to find yours. You were sitting cross-legged, and it was hard to know whether you'd changed your mind about allowing them into your home. With your blank stare, you showed them nothing, happy? Surprised? Angry? Annoyed? None of these things were apparent, and it was beginning to drive him mad. He wanted to shake you, to bare his fangs and at least provoke a reaction, even one of fear, which he would accept, because this impassive face was making him ask questions he wished he'd never had to ask.

Emotions and facial expressions were the key to communication for apes. So how could echoes communicate if they all had the same blank face? How could they respond appropriately to each other's words and behavior? How do you build trust? Bonding? Did all the echoes really have that lifeless face? How could he know that his behavior wasn't offensive to you? How could he know that he was doing the right thing for you to simply agree to communicate with him?

And it had only taken him three days to get used to this inexpressive face. He was so used to getting no emotional response from you that he didn't immediately notice that behind the cloudy veil of your eyes, something had changed.

Noa had to look twice, and even then, he still wasn't quite sure what he'd just seen appear in a corner, somewhere well hidden, deep in your eyes. Noa had always been good at reading other apes' thoughts and feelings. You'd given him a hard time not showing anything, but he finally saw it. A little sparkle, as delicate and transparent as it was, as shy and barely recognizable, he had finally found what could look like sadn… And you lowered your eyes, ending this exchange in which he'd never thought he could lose himself in such an involved way. Had you figured out that he'd seen it?

Had he noticed? A pang of anxiety deepened in your stomach. You couldn't stand his stare any longer. Nor were you in any shape to have your soul probed by a chimpanzee you'd met three days ago and didn't even know the name of. Yet you knew it was important to them. Caesar had taught you well, explained it well: apes are observant, they communicate mainly through their eyes, and not allowing them to look at you could mean that you didn't trust them, or rather, that you didn't want to trust them. And not wanting to trust an ape could just as easily mean that they couldn't trust you either.

Was it why you'd allowed him to dip his green eyes into yours? To tell him silently that he could trust you? Or rather… that you trusted him?

After what seemed like an eternity, you finally stood up, heading for your chest. If they were staying the night, you could at least lend them a blanket. You rummaged in your chest, and under the 3-4 items of clothing, you grabbed two old blankets that you used in turn with the one on your armchair to sleep on.

You approached them silently before handing them the blankets.

“For… the night.”

You felt compelled to clarify what you meant in front of their inquiring eyes, and just as you were about to return to where they'd found you on arrival, Raka's husky voice caught your attention.

“Do you have a name?”

It was true that after three days, you hadn't taken the time to make any introductions. It wasn't very humanly polite, you thought to yourself, nonetheless pondering on answering him. Of course you had a name, but it had been so long since you'd been asked that it took you a split second to remember it… (Name). But was it really necessary to give it to them? As you were slow to answer, the orangutan went on:

“If you don't have one, we could call you… Nova?”

Nova. You knew that name. Somewhere deep in your memory, you could recall a girl. A little girl whose name was Nova. But that couldn’t be, it was way too long ago. Therefore you chose not to dwell on it. The chimp beside Raka gave him a quizzical stare as well and you managed to decipher the sign language Raka was giving him as a respond, being "will explain further later".

"I’m (Name)." Was all you could say.

Though your eyes lingered on the chimp and Noa swears he saw you sign a "you?" but it could only be his mind playing tricks on him.

To tell the truth, he hadn't been imagining it. You couldn't consciously bring yourself to ask his name, so your subconscious did it for you. After a few seconds of silence, you thought maybe he hadn't noticed your request or maybe he didn't want to answer this silent question, which, on reflection, wasn't such a bad thing: it was easier to forget without knowing names.

But he had finally decided otherwise.

“Noa.”

You nodded silently. Noa and Raka. Two names you'd surely remember for a long time.

---------------

You'd taken your seat in front of the fireplace again, the only difference being that you'd taken the blanket that had been lying on your armchair with you. You had wrapped yourself up inside it to protect yourself from the fresh air of the night, and your fingers had mindlessly begun to skim the outline of the frame that was still on the floor. You were almost desperate. No matter how hard you thought about the best way to repair the frame and protect the precious treasure inside, your brain couldn't come up with a solution.

As focused as you were, you didn't even notice when Noa pointed to the wall above your head where your lists were lined up and arranged in columns.

“Do you know what these are?” Noa signed to Raka, who answered with a “no” nod. “Maybe… ask her?” Raka signed back.

But would you answer him? Until now, you'd never really exchanged more than two words apart from the first day when you'd caught them wanting to take your horse. Maybe you wouldn't accept his question, and maybe you might even take it the wrong way if he ventured to ask you a question that… concerned you too much? He'd kept in the back of his mind your reaction when Raka had wanted to help you pick up the rose petals.

“Not a good idea.” Noa signed again. “She gave fish, and the blankets.”

Raka shrugged as if that were enough to justify the fact Noa could ask you a question without batting an eyelid and you were kind enough, in spite of everything, to answer him.

“If you want her horse, you have to speak.” Raka prompted.

Noa huffed quietly, resigned. He had to talk to you.

You jumped when the wooden floor creaked beside you. Your eyes immediately went to Noa, who was taking a closer look at the lists on your wall. His voice buzzed in his ribcage and your gaze followed the movement of his hand, pressing down on one of your lists.

“What… is this?”

Silence.

Noa lowered his eyes to yours, feeling the need to perceive an answer from you, even though he already suspected he'd find nothing in your veiled gaze.

Perhaps if he looked harder, he'd be able to see again that melancholy glint he'd seen earlier, but you'd obviously managed to hide it even deeper. He wasn't going to get you twice in a row.

Unable to find what he was looking for, and frustrated by your silence, he was drawn to what your fingers were fiddling with on the floor.

Noa didn't understand the object at your feet. He had no idea what it was and out of curiosity, he crouched down, trying to get a little closer to the shape to understand its use. He could feel your puzzled gaze, almost on alert for the next move he might take, but he decided that as long as you didn't push him away, then he was allowed to continue his inspection. You had most certainly hovered your hand over the transparent plate on purpose to prevent him from seeing more precisely what it was, but whatever it might be, there was only one possible conclusion.

“Broken?” he asked.

Noa sought your gaze again, and the answer he found completely baffled him. He hadn't said much. One word. Just one word. And yet, the glimmer he had glimpsed with difficulty when he first entered your hut had just leapt into his face like the solution to a question that had been left unanswered for too long.

Sadness.

He could see it clearly, clearer than the water in the river. Echo's eyes were sad. This sudden emotion you were offering him as if on a platter of berries, this emotion he'd been searching for in you for three days, wondering if you were really capable of such a natural thing, this emotion, he suddenly didn't know what to do with it.

If the rose petals you'd picked up were important, this, this object you were shielding from his eyes with your hands, was certainly far more important. So important that it triggered an emotion in you capable of being expressed and given as a gift.

You closed your eyes. Maybe you'd given him too much. You closed your eyes and Noa noticed the long sigh that made your chest expand and contract.

And then, nothing.

Like the sun reaching the last horizon before fading behind it, there was nothing left in your eyes.

He watched you lay the blanket on the broken wood before getting up and leaving your house. Noa abruptly sought comfort from Raka, who gave him only one sentence in return.

“What have you done this time?”

-----------

Tags list: @callsignwidow / @youdontknowe / @katzykat / @koshi-sama / @violet-19999 / @queen-luna-007 / @sciencewithottsnpotts / @sparks0918

(I hope everyone is tagged properly!)

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Who Taught You How to Love Like That? (König x F!OC)

Part 3/3 of Valkyrie

(Part 2 here)

(Part 1 here)

Summary: König gets an order to make a female SpecGru sniper talk, but König doesn't want to hurt women.

Category: Smut 🔞, angst, fluff

Tags & warnings: Explicit mature content +18 audiences only, strangers to lovers (slight enemies to lovers), dubious consent, threats of rape, virgin!König, size kink, size difference, p in v, multiple orgasms, cunnilingus, squirting, hugs and cuddles, super fluffy ending. König will be named in later chapters. 

A/N: KorTac and SpecGru are rivaling military contractors, Conor is König's superior (and a huge villain), and I just wanted to write angsty smut featuring our favourite Austrian boi. 

The first thing she noticed was the combat dummy in the corner of the room. There was no light in the ceiling, only a small table lamp on the floor next to his bed... Which was really only a thin mattress placed on the floor with a meticulously tucked bed sheet on it. There was no furniture to speak of except for the tall gun safe and some bland table where he had a kettle and a half-open bag of bread lying next to a toaster. There was a small fridge under the table, and deposited there on top of it, out of direct sight, a simple knuckle duster.

Piles of books lay on the floor next to his so called bed, and she was pleasantly surprised: he didn't strike her as a bookworm type of guy. She briefly caught sight of a few titles, mostly nonfiction: he had volumes on rifles and combat sports like krav maga and escrima, along with some German books about hunting, knives…— and there were knives all over the place: hanging from a lone hook on the wall, lying on the table, next to a pile of books, next to the mattress. Probably hidden ones, too, but where in all this minimalistic scarceness, she couldn't tell.

He didn't have a television. There was no computer, not even a laptop. She wondered how his officers got in touch with him, for it was dubious that he even owned a phone.

"This is where I sleep," he introduced his apartment, waving a hand in a vague gesture that said It's not much, but it's home.

She didn't know whether to feel pity or terror. She was relatively sure she was the first girl to set foot in here. The red flags were all over the place, but she only felt a tug near her heart from the realization that this guy was lonely. Like really, really lonely. Potential school shooter who grew up kind of lonely.

God, why did she have to have a soft spot for lunatics like him...

"Would you like some coffee?"

He turned to look at her, and she felt tightness in her chest from that drained, sad stare. He had been so carefree, so giddy, but all of that was gone. She had seen it in the pub already, the moment she laid eyes on him, that something was terribly wrong. She wondered who was the one responsible for making this man lose his goofiness. Shed that lovely, inculpable nature that made him singularly him. Whoever it was, she wanted to smack them in the head. Hard.

Without his gear and mask or even that black face paint, he looked more human. There were no barriers between them, no profession stamped on him: he was simply…him. But the intensity was there, always there. He was an outrageously tall, athletic man, and teeming with latent violence.

She wasn’t intimidated by that, per se. She had fired her rifle alongside dozens of big, dangerous men. Menacing men. It was something else, something essential in this man's character that made her feel a little on edge.

If her mother could see where she was now, in a dark flat filled with nothing but weapons and white bread and a towering, introverted dynamite stick of a man, she would probably deem the situation more dangerous for her than Russia and Brazil combined.

"No thanks, I'm good."

He ran his fingers through his hair, which was much longer than 8 months ago. He still had that side shave, but the light ash curls on top were unkempt and fell partly on his forehead.

"Or tea? I think I got tea here somewhere… "

And there he was: that adorable, silly man she had fallen for.

If nothing more, she would make it her mission to at least get him to smile.

She shook her head slowly before walking to him and grabbing two fistfuls of his black t-shirt. He straightened like someone had called ten-hut, making it clear that she wasn't the only one who felt like a tightly coiled spring. But someone had to make the first move. Someone had to do something.

He had shaved a day, maybe two ago, and the stubble that dusted his chin and the top of his upper lip was only a faint shadow, but still coarse enough to sting her skin as she got up on her toes to kiss him.

He closed his eyes and bent into it. He didn't touch her, wouldn't reach for her, just opened his mouth against hers and moaned. Like a tortured man about to break.

"Mh- I've thought about you every day," she whispered, still clinging to his shirt, and he finally wrapped his arms around her. "Every damn day…"

"Meine kleine Walküre…"

"I thought I would go mad at some point."

I didn't know who you were, I couldn't come back to you, I knew nothing about you.

"I know."

He knew.

He knew the slow descent into madness, the craving. The mornings that felt like waking up in a limbo. The nights that only sharpened the pain.

And of course he did.

"You kept me alive," he said as his erection pressed against her, and her mind was flooded with memories of the grey room, the bleak light in the ceiling, the ropes biting into her wrists, the way he fucked her like they were both going to die the next day.

And she realized that he was real. He wasn't a schizophrenic dream or an erotic nightmare. He wasn't even a soldier; he was a man, a person.

He was a real, actual person under that hood and face paint and tactical vest and ammo pouches. He had an apartment and dirty socks on the floor, and he drank lager, and he had toast and a toaster, and he owned relatively normal clothes.

And right now, even though her panties were soaked, she didn't want him inside her.

"I'm a bit nervous," she said, stiff and near the point of breaking into a cold sweat. He caressed the small of her back and shoved his crotch against her even more eagerly.

"König, please… Could you just… hold me?"

He stopped and swallowed, and his hands traveled back up.

"I will do whatever you wish."

"Perhaps we could lie down? And just… hug, you know?"

"I'd love that," he said, sounding genuinely enthusiastic.

His sheets smelled of him, and she felt the cold sweat intensify. Her stomach sank, and she was glad that she was lying down because her feet wouldn't probably carry her at this point. He laid himself down next to her and gave her his pillow. It was a lovely gesture, but she felt like she was lying down with a murderer. Which he was. Which she was. They both had killed, her confirmed body count reaching 23 when she had left the SpecGru. His count was probably much higher...

She snuggled closer, tucked her head under his chin, and let him hold her. His whole body was tense, but he eased into the embrace after ten or twenty breaths. Cuddling usually came after the sex; after the release of stress and tension, and right now, they were both like teenagers in an empty house with the parents gone. Sweating with the jitters of coming to know how the other person's body felt like.

She dragged a leg over him at some point, and he sank his own between hers, and they just breathed each other. She wondered how they must look, her small form and light blue jeans and white shirt swallowed by all that black he wore. A fair little lady cuddled by a dark giant. A giant who everyone could tell, just by the clothes he wore, was either an employed soldier or a crazy militarist. And she liked that. She fucking loved that he didn't disguise himself as an ordinary civilian. Unlike she did, and she felt like a liar... along with feeling tired of pretending that she wanted the next bachelor when all she really wanted was a guy like him.

Finally, her nerves calmed down, and she could hear the silence of the room, the sound of his breathing, could feel the warmth of his arms around her.

"This feels good," she told him.

"This feels better than anything," he answered.

He seemed peaceful too. All that shifting around had turned into deep breaths and a steady heartbeat. She caressed his back, closed her eyes, and pressed her cheek more firmly against his chest — how many times had she dreamed of this moment? She inhaled him, and the scent aroused different memories this time, making her feel like a balloon drifting up to the ceiling.

"I like you, König." She squeezed him against her. "Like, a lot."

He squeezed her back and announced: "I love you."

Her mind went blank and then screamed error.

She wriggled out of his grasp, propped herself on her elbow, and looked down at him. He stared at her like a dog waiting for a treat from a well-done trick.

"You can't say that, König."

His long, pale lashes batted a few times, and a vertical wrinkle appeared between his brows.

"No, you... You didn't do anything wrong. I'm sorry. It's just that..." She pursed her lips, bit her lower lip, and placed a hand on his chest. "We barely know each other."

His eyes darted from her lips to her eyes, confused. "But I already know I love you."

How could she argue with a man who looked at her like that? Who looked like a dog being scolded for things he didn’t know he wasn't supposed to do…

I went to therapy because of you.

We met in a fucking bunker where you were asking politely if I would co-operate in you raping me. Fucking co-operate…

And you looked like Death…

"König… Baby, I don't even know your name."

He wrapped an arm around her waist in an attempt to pull her closer.

"Julius."

He said it from the back of his throat, it rolled off his tongue and ended in a soft hiss, and she felt lighter in the head by the minute.

Julius, like… Julius Caesar.

Or July. June and July.

This was so fucked up…

"Can I taste you?"

The wintry eyes looked at her, begging.

"Let me taste you, June. Please…"

Oh God… Yes, please, yes.

"Umm. Sure.."

He moved immediately, and she was almost thrown to lie on her back while he reached for her jeans to take them off, his large hands clumsy and cold against her exposed skin. She raised her hips to help him as he pulled them down, trying to stifle a giggle that was bubbling inside at seeing him so keen on giving her head. The pants got stuck on her ankles, and he tugged them off one leg at a time, causing one sock to come off and the other to come halfway down. And he just left it there, being too preoccupied with getting back between her legs to reach for her panties.

She thanked herself for having put on the smaller, black brazilian knickers instead of some comfortable, worn-out hipsters. And that she had shaved...

He was much more attentive with this piece of clothing, sliding it down like he was opening a gift. And when he took the panties off and still left that lonely sock unattended, crumpled, and forgotten, she couldn't help but snicker.

"Was?"

He looked at her with a perplexed smirk, clueless as to what was so funny — but smiling just for the sake of having made her laugh. The black underwear looked tiny in his hands as he placed it next to the bed.

She remembered how he had left her socks on in the bunker, too, perhaps because he was in a nervous hurry. Or perhaps because he didn't want her to feel cold.

She bent her leg and took it off herself, throwing it somewhere behind him.

"Nothing. Except that you're officially the cutest."

He ran a hand through his hair again. That bashful, boyish attitude made her realize just how much she had missed him. His gaze flicked to her eyes, darted between her legs, flew to examine the floor… and she could see the tent in his pants even though there was little light in the room.

"And now the shirt," she rose to seated and raised her hands up, making it clear what she wanted him to do. He wasted no time pulling it over her head but froze when he was met with the black, laced bra, the only barrier left between him and her complete nakedness.

As much as she wanted to, she didn't tease him by making him figure out the mechanism. She reached for the clasp, and he leaned slightly back when she took it off with little ceremony and threw it on the floor with the rest of her clothing. When she grabbed his hand to bring it to her breast, he looked like he had stopped breathing altogether.

"Everything good?"

"Perfekt," he said, looking terrified.

"Come here," she pulled him by the neck all the way down to lay on top of her. He supported himself on his elbows while his hands came to cradle her head. He was tense again, and she wondered whether the cuddling had been a bad idea — he had relaxed too much and was now overstimulated.

The whole body on her was rigid, but his mouth was soft and warm as he kissed her — so greedily that her legs began to ride up along his sides. When he moved to wolf her neck, her weakest spot, she wrapped her legs around his waist, and he finally melted against her.

"I dreamed of you," he breathed against her skin, making her eyes flutter open and her pussy clench around nothing. "Every night…"

Through the euphoria of his accent and lips, she deciphered that what he actually meant was that he had masturbated on thoughts of her. And she had done the same: stroked herself night after night on thoughts of him telling her how tight and good she felt around him. It was downright sinful how many times she had reminisced the high-pitched sighs, that vulnerable look he had when he shot his cum inside her.

"Did you ever think of me?" He asked with a frail voice.

She had gone on a few dates, had a few fucks. Ended up feeling disappointed, and even more lonely. Dirty and sad — like she was cheating on him…

"If only you knew just how much," she whispered to the ceiling above her.

He brushed a trembling thumb over her cheek and buried himself even deeper in her neck.

"Shit… Ist das dein Ernst?"

She loved it when he spoke German. And hated how most of the time, she couldn’t understand what the hell he was saying.

"June... Du machst mich verrückt."

"What are you saying, silly…"

"You drive me crazy."

He was so… present, devoted. So unlike the men who almost screamed "Score" when they got this far. He was saying stupid, lovely things that didn't sound at all like a yucky romcom, not when they came from him. He ripped her clothes off because he wanted to please her, taste her... And had no trouble pressing against her while having his own clothes still on — those black pants that would get stained if he continued to grind against her drenched pussy like that.

"You'll drive me crazy too if you don't finish what you started..."

He chuckled and resumed giving her those tiny kisses that only left her wanting more.

"Don't worry, little one." He planted a last kiss on her collarbone before diving down.

"I'm not -"

The rest of the sentence turned into a gasp as his lips swept over her sternum, her nipples, sent shivers across her stomach as he trailed down, down…

"Yes you are," he muttered against her mound, going further down still. Like a man with a purpose.

Hot air hit her as his tongue swept through her folds, first pointed and quivering, then flat and hungry. Her hand shot out to grasp his hair, those stupid, adorable curls that drove her to the brink of insanity.

"Mmh," he moaned in her pussy, pressing his lips against her and opening his mouth. She didn't have time to worry about the bite of his stubble, for he pushed his tongue out. Either he had an excellent memory, or then it was beginner's luck, but he hit just the right spot as the hot, wet tongue plunged slightly inside her.

"Oh - fuck.. "

He got the cue to the full, shoving even deeper, sweeping arms around her thighs to pull her against his face. He decoded her within minutes with a combination of flicks, sweeps, and thrusts. She opened her legs wider, felt herself open like a flower, felt the juices leak out while he was at it like a tried and true engine. So tireless that it sent her thighs quivering. They never did that — at least not with anyone else. It was his unique talent to make a mess of her. If he proved smart enough to apply fingers, she would lose her goddamn mind.

"You are dripping," he informed from among the sloppy sounds she was perfectly aware of. "Like a honeycomb…"

What was it with this man that nearly made her cry?

He kissed her with devotion, almost like he was kissing her lips. The languid pecks and slow nips soon turned into french kissing as he applied tongue again. Her fingers curled into his hair on their own accord and pulled. She could feel his mouth open into a grin before a soft huff hit her.

"Heh…" he kissed her again, "Gierig.."

"What does… ah -.. that mean?"

She could’ve cried from frustration when he slowly got back up to his knees. His lips and chin glistened with her - and he was grinning adorably. That earlier naive cuteness made such a comeback that she had a hard time catching her breath.

"Greedy." He licked his lips. "You like it?"

She nodded a few times, many times, and the impish, pussy-drunk grin of his only widened.

"Gut."

He made a move to return down there, looking like he had received the best assignment ever.

"König… Uh, Julius?" She pronounced it like July, and he corrected her immediately.

"Julius."

So husky and sweet from those soaked lips — like music.

"Julius," she rose back to seated, thighs still trembling, and grabbed the front of his shirt. "Could you take this off?"

He reached back with both hands and pulled it off, leaving his hair all tousled once the fabric was drawn over his head. She vaguely knew what to expect, but the amount of muscle still made her gawk like a goldfish.

The man was like a roman sculpture. Not an artificial, overly shredded fitness type of thing, but a man who used his body like it was meant to be used. The light brown hair between the plates of his chest was simply irresistible. She placed a hand on it, and he looked down, fascinated by what she was doing. She ran her fingers through the soft, sparse hair, trailed the breath of it all the way down to his navel. The muscles there rippled at her touch. He was ticklish… and some stupid part of her brain squealed at the discovery.

She wondered whether he had been touched before, whether he had been touched much at all. He had an ungodly shoulders to hips ratio, and a broad, toned physique, which alone should've made women want to crawl all over him. Perhaps he had walked through life half invisible because he wanted to stay that way - in hiding. And suddenly she felt special, outright exceptional... for having been chosen, having been granted access to him. His world.

He trusted her. It should've been a compliment, even a turn-on, but she felt like she didn't deserve it. And it was too late to turn back...

Looking up to his eyes which were fixed on her, expectant and dark, her fingers dropped to his pants, curled under the waistband, and gave it a tug.

"And everything else, too."

He sat back on his legs, opened the belt, undid the zipper, and stood up to take his pants off. From where she was looking, he was like a god, the muscles on his thighs bunching as he switched his weight from one leg to the other to yank his pants down and socks away. When he was finally free of those clothes, he grabbed that monster between his legs with one hand, lifted it, and stroked it absentmindedly while looking down at her, all hungry. Possessive...

Car lights flashed through the window and painted shadows on the wall, on him, painting him with blue and black just before he descended upon her. She greeted him with spread legs and open arms as he got down, carefully, like a man preparing to pray. With his hand still wrapped around himself, he guided the tip to her folds, brows knit together like he was on a serious mission that required all his attention. She reached a hand to grab him too, and it was like a dream, the way they directed him inside together.

Her inner muscles welcomed him home with a greedy pull, not bothered by the stretch that only felt fucking delicious.

She pushed him further in with her legs, wrapped around his hips like a starfish around prey. He was forced to fall on his hands, and he exhaled like someone easing into a hot bath, blowing air from the raw sensation — although he was dipping into somewhere far better than that, she presumed.

She noticed a scar on his neck as he exposed his throat, half-lidded eyes drifting closed with pleasure. Her hand rose on its own will to touch the white protrusion, fingertips caressing the spot where someone had tried to finish him and failed.

And she knew that she didn’t want to spend her life without this man.

Didn’t want to spend a day without him anymore.

He flinched at her touch, looking like he was the one being fucked and not the other way around. Her touch was a reminder that someone had gotten too close - way too close. And had probably paid the full price for their insolence.

“Baby…” she whispered, and his head dropped with a broken sigh, hanging heavy against his chest as he slid in and out of her. It was supposed to be a homecoming, a sweet reunion, but he was shaking and sobbing, grunting between the thrusts.

She knew he was repeating the words in his head, the words he thought she didn’t want to hear.

Fuck it… I love you too.

It was a deafening declaration in her head, one she couldn’t snuff out, one that only got louder as he thrust deeper, pressed against her, and moaned as he buried his face in her hair.

“You feel so good… taste so good,” he said, “smell so good…”

Having the biggest, baddest mercenary of a rivaling military contractor between her legs, sighing how good she was, might be reason enough to seek therapy — but it was also the one thing she knew would send her straight to heaven.

And it was too much.

He was too much. She didn't want to cry, and she didn't want him to hold her, to slide in and out slowly, fondly, lovingly. Just the way he was doing right now… She wanted to drown the blooming intimacy, she wanted him to shut the fuck up and fuck her.

More than anything, she wanted to escape the feeling that she belonged here, with him.

“Please… just..”

“Talk to me, Engel.”

Shit.. It was a purr.

“I need you harder.”

He only slowed down, confused.

“You don’t have to be gentle,” she said, hating herself for tearing apart the one thing she loved most about him.

But he did as he was bid, upping the tempo, going deeper, breaking her in all the ways she wanted him to. Needed him to.

"Like this?" The voice was abrupt, metallic, almost freezing. It didn't belong to a man, it belonged to a soldier executing an order.

“Yes…”

He was looking at her, and this time it was her turn to avoid the gaze. She already knew it was filled with confusion and hunger and sadness. She looked at his muscles at work, the ridiculously large cock disappearing into her, she looked at the scars... That scar, the one that screamed that not only he was lucky that the weapon had missed by an inch. That she should count her blessings, too.

At some point, he grunted in frustration and moved to throw her legs over his shoulders. He could pound inside even deeper like this, and it didn’t hurt at all, even though she felt a strange warmth pool somewhere deep in her abdomen.

He fucked her on that thin mattress and all she could think about was whether he would offer her tea or coffee after, or bring her toast to the bed.

“Harder..”

The sheet started to come off, the slick sounds bordering on pornographic, his chest getting covered in sweat.

God, she made him sweat. She wanted to wash him after, smear him with whatever stupid shower gel he had in his apartment that reeked of loneliness, a fragrance she knew more than well.

She wondered if he would want to cuddle again after they had showered together. Or cuddle before, so she could inhale his scent, the full brunt of him. If she could stay for the night. Fuck…

“Harder.”

He dared to whimper, dared to look at her all helpless. But obeyed.

Shit, he felt good. Too good. Too fucking….

"Wait..."

She was about to come, but something was different.

"Wait-"

Something was wrong and right at the same time, the thickness and length pressing onto something unusually delicious. It left her shaking, caused her to feel full to the brim. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out, and he wouldn't relent with the thrusts, but he had to soon enough, for she burst, literally, with wetness that spread through the sheets under them and caused his cock to fly out of her with a gush of moisture.

Oh jesusfuckinggod… -

He was between her legs, cock bouncing up and down. It was sheened with an insane amount of natural lube, and he was looking down at what she had done.

"What happened?"

The innocent question, the humiliation made her cheeks pang with heat.

Take a deep breath, calm down, calm the fuck down..

"It's…"

It's called squirting, you adorable big puppy. You just made me fucking squirt.

"It's a woman's orgasm but times ten?"

She wanted to add Jesus Christ I'm sorry, and it's a good thing, trust me, but she didn't need to.

"I… made you do that?"

She nodded, and another wide grin slowly spread on his face. He adored the scene, amazed and eyes sparkling like it was Christmas morning and he had walked up to see that there were presents under the tree.

He reached for his cock to insert himself back inside, but she jerked away.

"No, wait… It - it might happen again," she stuttered a warning. She wasn't sure, but she didn't want to take the risk. This kind of thing had never occurred, even if she knew what it was. Even envied those who had had the experience. But for the love of god, why did it have to be him out of all men who got to witness it when it finally happened…

But he only looked even more reckless. Almost wild.

"So let's do it again!" He was so excited that his voice spiked up a few notes.

"But your sheets…"

"Nevermind them," he huffed, ecstatic, and crawled forward. He pushed inside, fast and luscious, and she knew right then and there that it would definitely happen again.

He began to ruin her with a frenzy that was almost eerie. The rhythm of slick sounds told her enough, told her that he pistoned her with a pace that would soon drive her insane.

“You’re a fucking fantasy, June,” he groaned, the darker parts of what made him a ruthless professional soldier leaking through.

"Oh God," she breathed this time, deciding she could feel ashamed later. "It feels so fucking good…"

"I'll be good to you, Engel, I'll be good," he grunted as he continued to fuck her brains out.

She cursed and moaned and wailed, letting all his neighbours know that the big, quiet soldier boy was good at what he did. Fucking best. And she knew she should've said her prayers when her eyes rolled in her head and she started to see white.

It didn't take longer than a second or two before it happened again, this time with a force that nearly made her snap and split in half. More than a few squirts hit him as he pulled out. His jaw hung open like he was looking at fireworks.

“Huh -mh, yeah,” he wheezed, sounding dazed. “Verdammt - scheiße…”

She was writhing, crying, shedding actual tears — grabbing the sheet next to her head with one hand and beside her thigh with the other. Her legs were spread like she was on display, her thighs shaking like the muscles there had been permanently damaged. Kate had been more right than should've been legally fair…

"Gott, du bist schön," he commented on the sight while stroking himself, eased by the fluids all over his cock.

She thought about helping him, but couldn't get up, couldn't even move her hands, could only pant and shudder as he milked himself before her to a quick release.

He threw his head back and almost roared, and the only thing on her mind was the phrase saddest people cum the hardest as his seed shot out in generous spurts, hitting her almost in the face. The first gush already ran down her neck by the time the second fell, a thick rope of cum landing on her breasts, the rest on her stomach.

Something twisted in her stomach when she realized he had called her beautiful one moment and proceeded to cover her with cum the next.

Men…

But it was so fucking good that she only wanted to raise a hand and spread his seed all over her. He was breathing heavily with a softening cock in his fist, the last of the cum dripping to join the mess she had made.

"I hope you got a spare one," she looked at the destroyed sheet between them.

"Yeah," he panted still, half-lidded eyes looking at her up and down like he was piss-drunk and about to pass out.

She patted the space next to her, and he collapsed there, staring at the ceiling, probably trying to remember his name. She took his arm and raised it to wiggle herself under it and against him.

It felt good, being glued to him like this… Naked and spent and sweaty. He shifted, turned to face her, and took her in his arms as they both lay on their side, breathing heavily. She was pressed against the damp hair on his chest while his cum trailed little pathways between them.

"Please tell me you're mine, little Valkyrie," he whispered in her hair. He inhaled deeply and exhaled fully, like he had been in the thin mountain air and only now got enough oxygen again.

"June, I want you and no one else."

Oh, honey… it's just the mind-blowing sex talking.

It was pillow talk and hormones and trauma and all that shit. She was now 110 % sure that he had lost his virginity in that bunker. He wasn't the first nor the last man who thought they had fallen in love with a woman, not realizing what they had really fallen for was sex.

"I love you, June. If you don't want to hear it anymore, I won't say it. But it's true."

"Look…" she sighed.

This was so fucking awkward...

"Have you ever been in love before..?"

"No."

"Listen. I like you, you're a nice guy. And I want to get to know you, really, I do…-"

His breath had shallowed — far too much. The large chest beside her heaved, and she could both hear and feel his heart thumping. He shifted away from her, and she snapped her mouth shut. Slowly, she raised to look at him, and the sight drove a fucking lance through her heart.

She didn’t really know what a panic attack was, but was fairly positive that he was about to have one. He was laying on his back, big palms against his head, and he slid them over his eyes, trying to hide from her. His breathing was getting out of hand by the minute.

Fuck… Why did she have to fucking ruin everything?

"Hey, baby. It's alright. Everything's all right, just.. Breathe. Or talk to me…?"

He balanced on the edge of hyperventilation, still holding his head with his hands, eyes squeezed shut and that beautiful face distorted into agony and pain.

"You don't… want me."

Ice seeped into the pit of her stomach.

"Yeah, it's true I've never been with anyone. I was too shy. Ich habe nie bekommen, was ich wirklich will. Alle lachten und nannten mich Schwul… Und das war nicht das Einzige- mmh."

He was sweating from the German confession she understood but a few words of.

The only thing she caught was something about everyone laughing at him. People were horrible sometimes… or usually. People were vile, they were fucking bullies. But even if he was a bit too kind, a little too eager to please, and socially more than a bit on the awkward side of things, she had thought it a miracle that anyone would pester someone of his size. But exclusion and words could hurt too.

And she felt like an asshole.

She was good at bringing down strong, beautiful things. She liked to drag them through the mud. She was talented at taking aim at the most vulnerable parts and pulling the trigger... But he was already there. He was looking at her from a pool of blood and shit and tears. And she was not the only one who got traumatized in that box made of cement. She was not the only one who had had it rough growing up. From what she could tell, he had had it much worse.

"June, you feel so good that it hurts."

Shit…

Her stomach burst with golden fireflies, a warmth that spread to her heart, her whole chest. Ice and gold and fire mixed together, and she knew it was dangerous… He was dangerous. He was the most frightening thing she had ever faced.

She reached to brush his chest, feeling clumsy, like a child. A total amateur when it came to these things.

"You feel good too," she whispered. "So good. I'm just- I'm scared. It's scary."

She put her arm around him and pulled, then yanked when he wouldn't move. He turned, and she took him in her arms. His head pressed inelegantly between her breasts as she gave him a hug that she hoped would deliver all her affection.

He almost trembled in her arms, and the stabbing, burning feeling in her chest wouldn't stop.

"You really stole my heart, you know? Right from the start."

A breath of warm air crashed against her skin as she slowly stroked the back of his head and whispered in his hair.

"And I've thought about you ever since. It's ok if you want to say it. If that's how you truly feel. But please don't say that I don't want you. Because that sure as hell ain't true."

"...Ok," he muttered in her tits — a quiet, damped breath.

"König, could you just give me some… time? Just take it slow, if that's ok with you."

She refused to say his real name, knowing she wouldn't be able to lie anymore if she did. That she was just as far gone as he was, and having a radical acceptance moment about it. Even her therapist would’ve been proud… Or not. But she really didn't give a fuck.

She released her death grip on him a little, and he slowly raised his head to look at her. It was oddly charming that he was looking up at her and not the other way around.

"Take it slow. Ok. I promise I'll be good to you."

She tried her best not to burst into tears. She tried her very best to keep her hand steady as it caressed his hair, his neck, his back.

"You're so sweet."

She moved to kiss him, a pure cinematic kiss that was unhurried, exquisite, and just the kind of starved that told her he was the one.

"Anybody ever told you how sweet you are?" She whispered in his mouth and could feel how the muscles on his stomach contracted.

"Nein," he rasped back, voice so low that she nearly didn't recognize it belonged to him. He was getting hard again, too.

"Well, now you know," She kissed the top of his nose. She wondered if he had the kind of skin type that was full of freckles in summer.

"You're sweet," he said, the warmth of his words melting her like snow in spring, "like.. cotton candy. Or Apfelstrudel."

"Did you just call me a Strudel?"

"It's a dessert," he explained.

"I know it's a dessert, you… bear," she sputtered with her lack of words.

"Is that the best you can do?" He hummed against her lips, laughter barely a breath away.

"No. But it's your fault that my brain stops working."

He rolled partly on top of her again, his scent hitting her like a drug. The stubble scratched her skin, over and over again, as he kissed her, added tongue, sucked her lip, pressed against her like she was dying and he needed to give her mouth-to-mouth CPR asap.

When he withdrew, only an inch, she was breathless again. And he was smiling.

"Could you say it..? Please, just once. That you're my girl," he pressed his forehead on hers, his eyes betraying all the things she had no courage to show. He was many things, but he was certainly not a coward.

"I'm yours, King. I'm your girl."

"And I'm all yours, June."

She closed her eyes, savored those words, relished the feeling of commitment that was completely novel to her.

"When will you head back?"

"I… cannot tell you that."

She wondered how exactly she was supposed to go home with the knowledge that he would be out there in the field, changing mags amidst grenades and bullets.

"Soon."

"I gotta text Kate that I'm staying over. So she won't worry…"

"You'll stay for the night?"

He sounded so delighted. Excited. Like a dog wagging a tail... She wanted to crush him into another hug and cry until she felt raw.

"Yeah, if you change that sheet.”

She got up, walked to get her jacket, groped through the pockets — and her fingers caught to something small and bendy. Magical thinking or not, it felt like fate, and her lips curled into a small smile.

She found her phone, sent a text to Kate, then put it on mute, shoved it back into the pocket, and twiddled the plastic toy for a moment before closing it inside her palm.

When she returned to him, she had to do a double take. He looked so wiped out - so thoroughly drowsy and content - that it made the gold melt and spread inside her like fire.

"I have something for you."

He rose to his elbows, and she crouched beside him, took his hand, and dropped the small, olive-green toy soldier in his palm.

"It's my lucky charm. Had it on me on every mission."

It had a short key chain attached to it. She wondered whether he would tuck it inside his pocket, or if he would keep it on a table beside his bed. Or attach it somewhere, to bring him luck as it had brought to her. Even on that mission when KorTac had taken her as a prisoner. Especially on that mission…

"Can I ask something in return?"

"Anything."

She looked for it, found it on the floor, and picked it up.

"Can I have this?" She held up his black t-shirt and then brought it to her heart, grasping it tightly with two hands like a plush toy. "It smells of you," she explained, although it must've been obvious why she wanted it. The impact of her request on him was a swelling erection that twitched as he watched her, lips pursed tight, brows drawn together. He was blinking rapidly, trying to dry the tears that had started to form.

"Of course you can, Liebling."

"I can wrap myself in you even when you're away."

A miserable little groan escaped him as his lips tightened even more. She placed his shirt down and crawled back to the bed next to him.

"The downside is that it might stop having your scent in it," she pouted a lip, "but you can always bring me a fresh one when you come back, right?"

His sigh was heartbreaking.

"I can't help it, June."

"June, please don't take this the wrong way. I ask this question because you need to address it someday. Now… Is there any part of you that enjoyed it?"

She had thought of him every fucking day for the past 8 months now. She had thought of his hands, his cock, his puppy eyes, and most of all, that sad, abandoned look he gave her right before she turned and left.

"Did you like him?"

"You'll think I'm crazy."

"This is a place where you can safely say whatever is on your mind."

So what if it didn't make any sense? Who the fuck cared anyway?

Fuck it.

Just fuck it.

As if it was going to get any better by not saying it. Nothing could be worse than those months without him.

"You know what… I can't help it either. And I don't wanna take it slow."

---

"You've been kinda up lately."

Zero munched on whatever was on the menu today — König hadn't really paid mind to what it was.

"Leave went well?"

All eyes turned on him, and he was glad of the hood.

If only they knew just how well…

It had been the best leave ever. She hadn't stayed just for one night; she had stayed for three.

They had gone to see a new Marvel movie, and her kisses had tasted of popcorn and lemonade in the dark theatre. Half of the movie rolled past without him noticing what it was about. She had wanted to go to a sushi restaurant after and make him try all kinds of weird rolls — she had practically fed him with her own chopsticks, wanting to see what kind of reaction he had to each bite. They had gone to that pub for another round, and he had made her taste different types of beers, and when they got to pilsner and unfiltered witbier, she had stuck her tongue out and made a face. "You drink piss in Austria?"

They had gone to the gym, and he had taught her how to do a power clean, and she had insisted on staying in front of him when he did squats — for the purpose of giving him a quick kiss every time he did a rep, she informed him. He was supposed to do a series of 8 but ended up doing at least 12 reps, even with all that weight on his back.

He had shown her his favorite scope, detached it for her inspection from the SAKO he had in the safe. She said it was cool, but she knew a few better ones. And then she looked at him with a mischievous grin and said he should be fingering her instead of gun parts.

They had made love several times a day, just unhinged sex, until he felt soft in the head. Sex in the morning and sex in the evening, and sex at night when the other had woken up, too excited to sleep. They had showered together and done it there, too. He had dried her with his towel and carried her back to bed, all wet and giggling and soft and so sweet he had no words for her, neither in German nor English.

They had ordered takeaway on the last night, and he had watched as she ate it straight from the box, wearing only - and only - one of his shirts that looked huge on her. He had eaten her out not shortly after.

She gave him his first blowjob in the hallway of his apartment, just before he had to leave. He had almost missed the plane. Only when he was running to the gates that were already closing had it occurred to him that perhaps that's what she had aimed for.

And when the plane finally took off, he was blanketed by everything she said. That he was an adorable dumbass and her big boy and a gentleman and how good he was in bed, and that she would count the days to when they would see each other again. And that if he got killed, she would come and raise him from the dead and kill him again for daring to leave her.

"Ja, I got that pint. And the… girl."

"König got laid?" Fender nearly choked on his spaghetti.

Zero gave a hearty laugh, and König felt his cheeks grow hot under the mask.

"That's my man!"

He felt a slap on his back and Conor's eyes on him from across the table but didn't care.

They would eventually get interested in the toy soldier attached to his rifle, dangling from a key chain. The token bestowed upon him... her blessing. Physical evidence that she was real and had left with his shirt and now slept in it.

A reminder that he had a home to go back to.

[eddiezpaghetti]

Okay, Part 2! Time to get into that tasty, tasty Steve/Nancy comparison. For that, I don't think I'm really getting into any new ground, I feel like people have said this before, but it's worth stating again.

Steve having unrequited feelings for Nancy is a bad choice to compare to Will having unrequited feelings for Mike because he's a little busy basically being a perfect El parallel.

Look, okay, Nancy and Mike were automatically attracted (whether you think it was real romantic attraction or just attraction to the idea of being with them) to Steve and El respectively because they were impressive. El, of course, was "Superman landing on Mike's doorstep" and Steve had all the "King Steve" shit going on.

But Nancy and Mike both had preexisting history with a Byers boy. Mike and Will have been best friends since kindergarten, and Nancy knew Jonathan through them.

Shit happens, Nancy and Mike both lose their best friend, a lot of drama happens that basically leads to a rift between our respective pairs, but Steve and El both face down a Demogorgon to save a Wheeler (and some other people) aaaand a relationship still manages to happen despite all the shit going down. Kind of hard to ignore getting saved from a monster by a pretty person, right?

But there's still something...unspoken, between the Wheelers and the Byerses, even when the Wheelers are dating their superheroes. And when push comes to shove, when it really comes down to it...Mike and Nancy can't even honestly say "I love you", and this causes the two pairs to split up.

And...while they're split up...Steve and El both sort of...rise from the ashes of their former selves. Form new identities. But also...sort of their old ones.

Steve had lost his superpower, the thing that attracted Nancy to him in the first place. He was no longer King Steve.

For fuck's sake, he was being bullied. By some loser with blond hair. Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

And on top of all that, the girl he loved most couldn't even love him back.

They parted, on terrible terms, and while they were apart, Nancy found her comfort, comfort Steve could never provide, in Jonathan.

But, while he was alone, he reclaimed his old superpower. He was king again, and he'd found something new to fight for.

He didn't ever really need Nancy to fulfill him. He just needed to be his own hero.

And El?

El had lost her superpower, the thing that attracted Mike to her in the first place. She was no longer Superman.

And for fuck's sake, she was being bullied. By some loser with blond hair. Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

On top of all that, the boy she loved most couldn't even love her back.

They parted, on terrible terms, and while they were apart, Mike found his comfort, comfort El could never provide, in Will.

But, while she was alone, she reclaimed her old superpower. She was Superman again, and she'd found something new to fight for.

She didn't ever really need Mike to fulfill her. She just needed to be her own hero.

Steve and El both ended Season 4 with their relationships with Wheelers still sort of up in the air, but Nancy still ran to Jonathan while Robin comforted Steve, and El and Mike weren't talking while Mike and Will are.

And both Steve and El--in very different contexts--end the season mostly focused on, not their romantic prospects, but their best friends.

And I really think that's where their focus is going to stay.

Oh, and one last assurance--something that's been said SO many times before but bears repeating again--is this:

It's kind of hard to miss what' the story is saying's going on when the writers are saying "This is what constitutes romance," and then having Will and Mike follow the exact trail they set out, step by step by step. Not just Will, Will and Mike. It's not one-sided.

[angelfiedyaz]

Some more Redacted Headcannons with Yaz

David- - If angel ever got acrylics done David would just casually and definetly not suspiciously always seem to lay his head in their lap or lay on them (must definetly crushing them) just for them to run their fingers through this hair or up and down his back lightly scratching with their nails, but of course Davey would never admit that, even though it was obvious as ever by how he would let out little whines or would doze off. - One day David gave up on trying to get his jacket back from Angel and just gave it to them. They cried. Asher also got a Shaw security hoodie custom made for them, like Daveys one that said his name on it but theirs has their name and they still wear David's either way obviously.

Asher- -At one point Ash definetly lost a bet with Milo and Baaabe came home to find Asher with every colour of the rainbow dyed on his hair and the silliest grin that was definetly saying "oops?" - Ash and Baaabe both definetly sing along to musicals, the one I head cannon the most is Rocky Horror Picture Show. And also one time ash and baaabe were hanging with Davey and Angel and the soundtrack came on so obviously they broke into song + Angel and Davey was totally not singing along under his breath

Milo- - When Milo and sweetheart started dating Marie would always invite them and a couple times didn't tell Milo they would be there so Milo would rock up to Marie's just to see Sweetheart and her chatting away on the couch.

Sam- Sam and darlin have promise rings and you know damn well they never take them off. Sam surprised Darlin with them on their anniversary and Darlin got so emotional all they could do was hug him.

Vincent- Vincent is so gentle with Lovely, one time they were cuddling and they asked him to lie on top of them and he was so worried he would be too heavy it took lovely so long to convince him they ended up just tugging him down onto them.

Guy- Even tho Guy is a hyper active golden retriever every once in a while he gets really exhausted and will spend a whole day just chilling and relaxing, the first time this happened Honey asked him if he was ok the whole day, they didn't believe him until he explained he was just drained. They spent the whole day cuddling.

Porter- I believe that Porter was robbed of physical love for so long that when him and Treasure finished their little "get together" and they held his face softly and just admired him he didn't know how to react at first he pulled away but slowly he's learned to love it. Treasure holds him every once in a while whether it's when their cuddling or just holding his face, he adores it.

[strawbby-shortcake]

★ Bruised and Battered [a tyler durden x gn! reader oneshot] ★

Tyler often comes back to the house on Paper Street early in the morning. Sometimes it's three or four in the morning until he's back, if you're lucky, you'll see him stumble in at one or two. You wouldn't call it coming back "home," since this place was rotting away one minute at a time.

Tonight, however, Tyler was back by 12 A.M., which was unusual. He had a large cut on the left side of his face that extended from his eyebrow to the very top of his cheekbone. There was blood splattered across his chest, whether it was his or someone else's, you didn't know. You assumed most of it was his since there was a fresh nosebleed flowing over his lips and chin. You could hear the blood drip onto the old, wooden floor, drop by drop.

"You're back early. What happened?" you asked from the couch.

Tyler didn't respond, he just went to the fridge and grabbed a cold beer. He plopped himself onto the opposite side of the couch, slightly facing away from you.

You sighed. "Not even a 'hello?' Come on, Ty, what happened."

He lifted the bottle to his lips and paused before drinking.

"Don't call me that," he said, taking a sip of his beer.

"You're so hot and cold with me. Last week, as soon as you came back, you gave me a hug and started ranting about how to make soap and the philosophy of life- or whatever," you scoffed.

He always did this. He switched up like day and night, so you never expected the same "version" of Tyler.

Tyler grunted and lit a cigarette in response. Maybe he couldn't care less, but what would you know, right?

You got up from your seat and went to find the medical kit in the bathroom. Once you got it, you took a rag from one of the room's floors and brought it back to the couch. Tyler had put his cigarette out on the ash tray and was lying on the couch in an awkward position.

Maybe it was because there was an open wound on his side as well.

"Get up, Tyler," you said bluntly.

He obeyed and sat up; he knew you were going to tend to his wounds one way or another. You got out the rag and wiped up all the blood, put some ointment on his cuts, and bandaged them up.

"You're all bruised and battered...," you whispered.

"Hmm...," Tyler responded.

"Tyler, why won't you just talk to me for once? Let me into your mind, or something. I don't understand you sometimes. One minute you tolerate me and the next it seems like I'm scum to you. Don't you understand how-"

Tyler cut you off by gently placing his palms on either side of your face. His thumb brushed your skin just above your eyebrow.

Your face flushed quickly. "Now I'm REALLY confused. I-"

"Shhh," Tyler cut you off again. "I've got a thousand thoughts running through my head constantly, but the one that always sticks around is 'you.'"

You raised your eyebrows and opened your mouth to speak, but he didn't give you a chance.

"You want me to talk, well sweetheart, I talk a lot. You just need to listen."

"I DO listen, what the hell are you talking about?" you snap, prying your face from his hands.

Tyler swiftly grabbed your wrist and held both of your hands in his. He tightened his grip almost violently.

"No, you don't. Listen to my silence. Listen to my eyes when I look at you. Listen to me now," he explained.

His light blue eyes gazed into yours, his expression softening. He brought your hand to his lips and kissed it. It wasn't forceful. In fact, it even seemed genuine.

"I'm listening, Tyler," you said.

"I left the club early because I missed you. I wanted to see you while you were still awake. I don't like coming back here when you're already in bed. I miss you," Tyler confessed.

"I don't know what this 'club' is but I always look forward to when you come back. Even when you're all bruised and battered," you responded, wrapping your arms around his neck.

He rested his chin on the top of your head and hesitantly hugged you back.

"Tyler?"

"Hmm?"

"I missed you, too."

[END]

[verysium]

blu lock top artists on Spotify??? i need your thoughts on it

anon you had me pulling up my spotify playlists and browsing through the entirety of genius.com for three hours straight. i'm going to tweak this prompt a little bit and include specific songs that best represent them since it's easier for me to explain that way.

RIN

the fanon answer for this is chase atlantic. while their songs do encapsulate parts of his personality (mostly the edgy teenager and disillusioned youth persona), i feel like this choice does not do his full character justice.

the canon answer for this is king gnu, more specifically the song "prayer x." i can picture this since rin seems like the type to enjoy alternative rock/indie, but the fact that it's the ending theme to banana fish is what gets to me. like...do you see yourself in ash or something? i hope you don't cus it doesn't end well. that anime had me bawling my eyes out for months, and i still can't think about it without breaking down again.

furthermore, the lyrics and music video to this song are very cryptic and borderline nihilistic. for example, "hiding behind this nonchalant smile" and "my life's spark will wink out of existence." i feel like this speaks volumes about rin's mental health and internal thought process. he obviously does not process his emotions normally and instead represses them. he also struggles with the idea of finding a purpose in what is otherwise a cyclical routine with no end. he's worried and, quite frankly, afraid that if he ever stops pursuing his dream, everything will come crumbling down, and he will have to face all the demons he's avoided for so long. the main theme here is that he cannot face his reality (the fact that sae's dream is not his own.) so he does everything in order to escape this fact even if it ultimately destroys him.

from my own playlists, i'd assign him the following songs/artists:

"beautiful boy" by john lennon

this is a love letter to baby rin. i feel like he would've enjoyed this song as either a lullaby or something he listened to on car rides to the beach during summer vacations. he probably still listens to this when it's raining outside or he's had a bad day. reminds him of his childhood and the good parts of it.

"the love club" by lorde

this is something pre-teen rin listened to. the irony is spot-on, and i feel like the lyrics would be relevant during a time when he was going through his rebellious phase and fully fleshing out his place in society. in this instance, the club would metaphorically be wherever his brother is at, whether that's the guys sae meets in spain or the group of football players considered "top-notch" in japan. everything is about finding a place in this club/clique in an effort to become free and differentiate himself from others. the only problem is that rin ironically loses his freedom because he tries so hard to be among the best. he signs his life away in pursuit of a dream, and it's something that now defines him.

"the only problem i got with the club / is how you're severed from the people / who watched you grow up"

this lyric in particular could apply to either one of the itoshi brothers. it's one of the caveats that comes with fame. you gain everything, but you lose everything before that. both of the itoshis likely experienced some amount of separation from their loved ones, including each other. also lorde's vocals are beautiful as always, so there's no reason not to include this song.

"howlin' 404" by DEAN

the production for this song is on point. the intro has a segment from a 1930s american horror radio program which is fitting because rin canonically watches horror movies. i think this song is something rin might listen to during cold autumns or midnights when he just can't sleep.

lyrically, there is the motif of a time loop which is also present in "prayer x." rin's character itself just has this connection with the raw grittiness of existentialism and this idea of repeating days without purpose. (in fact, he would make a great psychological thriller lead.) rin is also a control freak. if he lets one loose end go, it will unravel the entire thing. that matches up with the idea of "killing me softly." rin would rather prolong his pain than have it ripped from him all at once and leave him with nothing. i find this in a lot of people in real life too. even if your trauma wasn't good for you, it sometimes becomes the only thing you truly own. it's like that one quote from bojack horseman. "if i don't, that means that all the damage i got isn't good damage, it's just damage." rin feels like he has something to prove, and if he fails, all his suffering would've been for nothing.

"moonchild" by RM

i may be a bit biased since i love the mono mixtape, and i've written a rin fic about celestial bodies, but....this song just fits him. there's also a remarkable similarity with the lyrics of the previous songs i've listed. i'm just going to list a few:

"smiling in endless pain / you know / there's no freedom when you say freedom out loud"

one thing i love about RM is that he doesn't shy away from character flaws. he writes songs specifically for those who are always picked last, who aren't remarkable in any way, who feel weighed down by their normality. he gives them their spotlight and due diligence. for example, the entirety of the chorus is a repeat of "moonchild, you shine." i find this interesting since it's usually the sun that shines. but the sun is already sae, and rin is relegated to being the moon. yet even though the moon doesn't have its own light (it merely reflects the sun), it still shines bright in the darkness. rin doesn't know it yet, but he himself is a big role model for others such as isagi, his fans, and people just like him. so yeah....i'd take this song as a message of hope for future rin.

SAE

the fanon answer is lana del rey, and i would agree to a certain extent. under the right circumstances, he could become one of those dreamy, emotionally stunted, and tired men you guys all lust over. if y/n ever wrote a romantic song about him, it would be either "west coast" (for the spanish influences) or "art deco" (for the vibes.)

the headcanon answer is nothing. i don't think he listens to music much. even if he did, it would be probably classical/instrumental or just white noise for his long flights. i imagine him listening to erik satie's "gymnopédie no. 3" on a train ride or something.

from my own playlists, i'm going to give him these songs/artists:

"remind me" by röyksopp

i don't know how to explain this, but this song gives a bittersweet sense of nostalgia. think early 2000s when the TV footage was still grainy and had retro graphics. you're carrying around your mini mp3 player whilst wandering through the airport and wondering how the hell you even ended up there. that's the general ambience of this song.

lyrically, the song also matches well with sae. i'm going to give you a few examples:

"it's only been a week / the rush of being home in rapid fading"

again, this is a tribute to the disconnection sae feels from his home. he goes everywhere, but he belongs nowhere. when he finally returns to japan, he finds himself missing spain. when he's in madrid, he thinks about the ocean back in kamakura. there never is a place that truly fills that gaping hole in his chest. i also feel like sae experiences FOMO on a whole other level. he constantly feels like something is wrong/missing and he's not doing enough.

"brave men tell the truth / the wise man's tools are analogies and puzzles"

the idea here is that though sae is blunt with his words, he is a coward with his intentions/true feelings. he can brutally call out someone without hesitation, but to actually reveal his own truths and motives? he'd rather shrivel up in a hole and die. this is especially applicable to love. to him, a wise man is someone who doesn't open his heart up easily. instead, he hints at his feelings, and whether or not you can figure that out is on you. sae hates it when others play games with him. it's where his hypocrisy lies. he demands straightforward honesty from others, but he himself will unintentionally play games with you if it means he can hide himself behind his walls.

"a woman holds her tongue / knowing silence will speak for her"

this is the closest you guys are ever going to get to sae itoshi's ideal type. he loves people who don't need to say something for him to believe it. they just get it. your silence is automatically enough for him to know that you love him. similarly, you don't even need to speak a word to understand what he's feeling.

"night shift" by lucy dacus

this song is sae if he was that one ex-boyfriend who really fucked you up emotionally, and you never got over him even though you said you did. now that i think about it, the story could be told from either POV. this could be sae trying to erase you from his mind, or it could also be you post-breakup.

"you've got a 9 to 5 / so i'll take the night shift / and i'll never see you again / if i can help it"

i know this one lyric caused controversy all over tiktok, so i'm going to add my own interpretation. at face value, this is exactly what it says it is. sae doesn't want to see you again, nor do you. he's willing to go out of his way just to avoid you, and truthfully he would. when sae finds himself in trouble, he doesn't look for something new to fix him. instead, he cuts everything off and subtracts anything that is deadweight. if you're out of his life, then you're out of his life. he's not coming back for you (or at least that's what he says to convince himself). same thing with rin. he knows he hurt rin, but he's not going to go back and try to make it right. he's going to move on and try to justify his actions every step of the way. one day, rin will move on too, and then sae would have been right all along. (unfortunately, that is not the way things work, but that's a lesson for another time.)

the alternative interpretation is that y/n is the other woman. this could be literal as in sae already has someone else in his life, and he only sees you at night. you're only ever going to be the night shift. it could also be metaphorical as in you're merely a distraction in the grand scheme of things. you're the mistress, but football is his wife if that makes sense. his career will always take precedence.

"you get me so high" by the neighborhood

this song is all the words sae wished he said to rin but never did. it made me cry because everything would have been so different if they had just set aside their pride and truthfully sought each other out.

"hope you don't regret it / i pushed a lot back but i can't forget it"

repressing feelings seems to be a recurring issue with the itoshi brothers. like....maybe if i just push it out of sight, it will also go out of mind. and at its core, this all stems from fear. fear of facing the consequences, the hypotheticals, the terrifying realization that you did something you regret and there really is no turning back from it. but realistically, if you think about it, a lot of this is the byproduct of overthinking. sometimes the situation isn't as complicated as we might make it out to be. sometimes an apology doesn't fix everything, but it's a proposition to be something more, an attempt at a solution. but sae and rin are so blindsided by their own internal turmoil that they cannot see this.

"for a long time i took it all for granted / i really thought we had it / but at the time it was more than i could manage"

ah....the "taking for granted" part. i could ramble on about that for hours. i think it really is some sort of self-fulfilling prophecy that we never miss something until it's gone. and in a way, it's not something that we can always control. the value you assign to a person/object when you have it is going to be fundamentally different from the value you assign to it when it's no longer in your grasp. that's how scarcity works. something with a limited supply is always going to be worth more. the vice versa works as well. you might yearn after something but then throw it away the moment you finally have it and grow tired of it. this sort of dilemma that comes with appreciation is so common i really wouldn't blame the itoshi brothers for what they did. it is immensely difficult to know when you're going to lose something or when you need to let it go. and sometimes it's hard to be constantly grateful for what you have because many of us are wired to want something more. tbh that's what makes the itoshis relatable.

"if we can leave it all behind us / and meet in between"

now sae would never say this unless he himself had actually reflected on what happened and fully processed it. but maybe in the future, they could set aside their differences and reach out to each other. (this is how i cope)

"but i just had to let you know / i never meant to hurt you, though / i had all my motives / i didn't know they wouldn't mix with your emotions / i just had to reach my goals / never knew i'd meet you though"

that's the thing with personal ambition. sometimes you get so caught up in yourself, you forget all about others. and this isn't really selfishness, or at least intentional selfishness. it just sort of happened that way. you never meant to hurt them, but you still somehow did.

"we should stick together / you're my best friend / i'll love you forever"

yeah....this line was the one that did it for me. something about the dysfunctional sibling dynamic just eats away at my insides. like....i could've loved you, we could've been so much together, but why aren't we? what we have isn't hate, but it isn't the love i know and crave either.

"we could be the greatest / it doesn't matter if we're never rich or famous"

ok but if rin ever heard this leave sae's lips, i think all of his trauma would just be magically healed. he just wants his brother to see him. like fully see him and love him. but alas, what is blue lock without angst, am i right?

"love in the dark" by adele

now i don't think sae would ever listen to adele, but the lyrics are just too fitting. i was going to write a fic on this, but it's going to have to ferment a bit in the drafts for now. basically this is the entire rin/sae traumatic scene but as a melodramatic torch song with adele's heavenly vocals.

"take your eyes off of me so i can leave / i'm far too ashamed to do it with you watching me"

um...this is literally sae's internal monologue??? i feel like letting go of things is something both the itoshi brothers struggle with. their lives are constantly pulling them in different directions, and eventually they become numb to it all. they don't form any strong attachment to anything besides football because that's the one thing that won't change for them. in a way, this is necessary for their character development (in the sense that they need to discern for themselves what to keep and what to let go), but it also destroys any sense of belonging they might have (hence why they feel lonely.)

"don't try to change my mind / i'm being cruel to be kind"

sae would definitely say this. like word for word. if only he wasn't a vague dumbass with no communication skills.

"i can't love you in the dark / it feels like we're oceans apart"

this is literally their dynamic in one lyric. there is the physical distance, and then there's the emotional distance.

"we're not the only ones, / i don't regret a thing / every word i've said, / you know i'll always mean"

this sort of reminds me when sae said that the world is huge, and there's so many players way better than him out there. i think spain really gave him a reality check, and he grew angry at rin when rin couldn't understand his disillusionment.

"everything changed me / and i don't think you can save me"

adele sort of echoes this softly at the end of the song. i feel like sae would do that too. he wouldn't admit his own insecurities until the very end, and only then does the truth come out.

"i'll sleep when i'm older" by bruno major

this is sae when he's older and fully mature, preferably after he meets you. he finally decides to damn it all and do what he wants.

"conversations with elders and the wisdom they bring ... / the view from an aeroplane at twelve thousand feet"

sae views things that previously annoyed him in a new light. he used to hate his elders, but he visited you and your mother once, and something changed within him. now he calls his parents more often, and his eyes linger on the old couples near the park benches. sometimes, his gaze softens just a bit when he imagines the two of you growing old just like them.

flights used to be a mundane part of his routine, but now he finds himself leaning over your window seat to see the mountains down below. the clouds and sunny weather set him aglow. and you just look so pretty when you fall asleep on his shoulder. he doesn't ever want this change.

"meet god on a mountain top along with the stars / find love somewhere, anywhere / fall deep from the start"

sae used to avoid love, but now he's running at it full-force. people tend to shy away from making sae a romantic because it seems too ooc. however, in the right situation, i think sae could entirely abandon his previous ideals and become someone else entirely. (that's why it's called a character evolution guys.)

"misplace my mind and follow my heart"

again, if you're able to make sae lose all rationality and let his heart guide him instead, then you've really done something. kudos to you for penetrating the walls of the coldest asshole known to mankind.

"i'll be a firework, not a flickering flame / treat life all around me like a one-player game"

this one lyric applies both to younger and older sae. younger sae is someone unafraid of risking it all if it means he can achieve something worthwhile. it doesn't matter how many players he has to defeat, how many people he has to leave behind. in this world, it is just him and the goal he has to accomplish.

however, after he's mellowed out after a few years (i'd say around middle age), he probably reinterprets this as something else. he's not going to constrain himself to his tunnel vision anymore. there's so much more to life than that.

"i'll go to the party and forget all the names / should it climb back to haunt me, / it ends all the same"

sae finally lets himself live the life he never thought he'd have. he does stupid things like get drunk and make a fool of himself. but you're there for him, so he doesn't really care. in fact, he can finally say that for the first time in a long time....he's having fun.

KAISER

the fanon answer is the weeknd. i'm not going to lie, i completely agree with this one. i saw this one edit of him to "party monster," and i can say i have been fully enlightened and converted. however, this is not just about a toxic male manipulator anthem. it's much more than that.

this is about running away from the ugliest parts of yourself, becoming a slave to your vices, knowing you're broken somewhere and you can never fix it. i would say his character is most similar to "starboy" in the fact that he literally flaunts everything he has to hide the fact that deep down inside, he really has nothing else to hold onto. "starboy" is all about the status symbol (money, red lamborghinis, glass table girls turning into ebony table girls lol). but at the end of the day, he doesn't really have anything except an empty heart and a satirical quip for all those who made him famous. the same theme applies to "the morning" and "house of balloons."

in the romantic sense, i think "don't break my heart" would represent kaiser. and no, this is not a justification for him being an f-boy. it's more so an exploration of why people might think he is an f-boy. i do not condone his actions, but i do try to understand them. in particular, i feel like the lyrics of "sacrifice" also fit him well.

"i was born in a city / where the winter nights don't ever sleep / so this life's always with me / the ice inside my veins will never bleed"

i headcanon kaiser as being born in either berlin or munich. and if you don't know anything about those two places, just know that you freeze your ass off during wintertime. i think it's interesting how his past could be intrinsically tied with a place, and he takes a piece of his past self with him wherever he goes. the ice in veins part also made me think about how kaiser would rather freeze up every weakness within himself than let them run free and make him human.

"every time you try to fix me / i know you'll never find that missing piece"

guys...did you hear that? to all you delusional people out there, this is your service announcement. you cannot fix someone who does not want to be fixed. write that down and memorize it. all meaningful change starts with a shift in mindset, and if they themselves are not in the right headspace to recognize that something is wrong and actively want to change, you're not going to get anywhere. so yeah....kaiser is not going to change unless HE starts doing the changing.

"i hold you through the toughest parts / when you feel like it's the end / 'cause life is still worth living"

i think this lyric sort of explores kaiser's dynamic with ness. on one front, he is the one picking ness up from his miserable past and instilling a sense of hope into him (intentionally or not.) but on another front, this could also be a problem. kaiser is almost forcefully optimistic in the way that he believes anything is possible. it has to be possible because there can be no other way. but the thing is.....you have to know your limits sometimes. blind optimism is, ironically, similar to cornering yourself.

"i can break you down and pick you up / and fuck like we are friends / but don't be catching feelings"

this is definitely the type of bullshit kaiser would spew. i could picture a fwb or situationship with him where y/n just constantly receives the short end of the stick. now this may be reaching, but i also feel like this is how kaiser projects his own trauma onto others. he himself clawed his way up to the top and put himself back together every time he fell down. the problem is that he also expects you to be that resilient. he's going to treat you badly because you're supposed to be like him: someone who can overcome everything and strive towards the impossible.

the headcanon answer to his top artist would be keshi. in particular, i think kaiser would fit the vibe of "2 soon" and "drunk." long story short, you finally broke up with him, and he's still reeling from the impact.

within my fics, i envision a dialogue between kaiser and y/n from each one of their perspectives. so based on that, i'm going to assign him the following songs/artists:

"gibson girl" by ethel cain

i know i said earlier that kaiser's character is not solely about toxic manipulation, but you have to understand that all bad habits originate from somewhere. kaiser is innately self-destructive, and he brings you down along with him. this song is about that but from y/n's perspective. there's this idea of trying to find agency in a situation where you have none. i don't have the word count to explain ethel cain lore in all of its naked glory, but all i can say is that this song is a banger and deals with themes like femininity as a performance, finding power in pain, religious motifs, etc.

"glory box" by portishead

this song is y/n's last plea to kaiser before they fully give up on him and leave. i'm also a sucker for anything that involves an exploration of gender dynamics and what it means to be a woman, and this song is riddled with it.

"suffocation" by crystal castles

this is kaiser post-isagi defeat (cue that one scene where he was trying to choke himself.) similar to sae, it's all or nothing with him. he suffers from this feeling of inferiority. everyone made him out to be this great figure of impossible dreams and legends, but look at him now. he's nothing. aren't you disappointed? he had you fooled, but he also fooled himself. so yeah....kaiser is definitely the most self-deprecating out of all of the boys at blue lock.

ISAGI

the fanon answer is laufey, and i also agree. he's so sweet, and laufey's music just makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. he would also be that one love that came creeping up on you when you least expected it. "valentine" would be the song for that. i picture a reader who's had a series of unfortunate breakups and is right on the edge of giving up entirely. but then isagi comes along, and it's just so easy to love him. as easy as breathing. and then you think maybe it wasn't so bad after all. you just never found the right one until he came into your life. furthermore, isagi is a jazz pop princess, and you can't convince me otherwise.

the headcanon answer is IU. more specifically, i would say "troll" from her lilac album. i feel like even if you and isagi broke up, it would still be like you two never broke up at all. you're both on good terms, and even though you know it's counterproductive to keep cycling back to each other, you do it anyways. and it's okay because you're both still in love.

from my own playlists, i would assign the following songs/artists:

"winter bear" by v

this is my comfort song. it feels like those big sherpa blankets you tuck yourself under when you're lying next to the heater in winter. isagi would kiss your forehead and nuzzle your nose before you two drifted off to sleep.

"a boy named pluto" by hailey knox

this one is so romantic lol. i also like the dynamic where one party is afraid to love, but the other person loves them unconditionally. that would be isagi. he'd respect your decision and wait for you as long as you need it. but if you're ever ready to give him a chance, just know that he's going to treasure all of you.

"put your records on" by ritt momney

the inspiring thing about isagi is that he never lets anyone put him down. he takes rejection as redirection, failure as room for improvement. and in that way, i think this song encapsulates his resilience. he'd be such a good boyfriend not just romantically but in the way that he would literally pick you back up to your feet, dust you off, and make sure everything was alright.

"fairy of shampoo" by dosii

i picture isagi as someone who falls first and falls harder. he just loves you so much, and he doesn't even need a reason why. i saw somewhere that sometimes you don't love someone because they're your soulmate/twin flame/supernaturally fated other. you love them because you consciously made the decision to. isagi is like that. he loves you on purpose.

helppp why does this sound like an academic paper...i'm sorry anon. i got carried away with this, but i hope u like it.

[gleefullypolin]

My top 10 ships

I haven't done this in forever, and I was bored and didn't feel like working so.....felt like an appropriate thing to do instead.

My top 10 ships!

#1 Polin - Bridgerton

Did you really anticipate anyone else being at my top spot? Friends to lovers....Swoon! They have my heart, soul, and life. I literally love a girl who knows what she wants and a man who loves the fuck out of her like no other so this is like porn and comfort. Give me everything tonight and more!

#2 Captain Swan - OUAT

If you aren't going to give me friends to lovers, I'll move over to Enemies and find my kind because holy hot out of hell, there is nothing better than Captain Hook and his smolder winning over Emma Swan. Fuck that man can burn! Years after that show ended and I can still sit in them and ruminate and catch myself on fire.

#3 Clois - Smallville

There have been a lot of different Lois and Clark's out there, but none have been Erica Durance and Tom Welling. I've never been so happy and angry with a show in all my life. I used to wish so much against Lana Lang that I am embarrassed my own behavior. But I truly loved the banter and way these two brought these characters to live. It was marvelous.

#4 Reylo - Star Wars

Being a Reylo shipper was like being sentenced to death and hell all at the same time for many years. We were bullied, tortured, shat on, and then given everything we wanted in 30 seconds only for them to fucking KILL HIM after a sacrifice. I have never both smiled, cried, and then curled into a ball in a theater so quickly that I wanted to die before. Even my family ridiculed me. It was torture but I still live there. I still ship it and you cannot make me stop!!

#5 Fitzsimmons - Agents of Shield

The brilliant science couple put through so much that even they thought they were cursed. Pushed to find each other across time and space, kidnapped into a matrix, forced to fight one another, half the couple killed, duplicate versions of themselves, but champions of the hug, star crossed and so full of love. Friends to lovers, he fell first, she fell harder and GOD I LOVE THEM YOUR HONOR!

#6 Starpollo - Battlestar Galactica

A couple who knew how to tear out my heart, throw it to the ground, and then trample it with their feet to ashes. While Lee and Kara were not destined to end up together, they damn sure made it hard not to want them to find a way. They truly loved each other more than anyone they were with in the show, but guilt always found a way to fuck that up for them. God it hurt to love you two.

#7 Romanogers - Marvel Universe

Let's talk crack ships because oh how they break your heart. But it is glorious. This one is mine. I will forever love Nat and Steve and I will live in the space and time that they were on the road together living their lives without a banner. Because you can't tell me what they got up to! I refuse to believe you! But let's not talk about how it all ended because my heart still hurts and I don't like to talk about it!

#8 Finchel - Glee

Since I'm already ripping my heart out, let's go all the way with it. Finchel has always been that ship that tears my heart to shreds. I was all in from the characters to the actors and I'll never honestly get over it. I'll probably always bleed Finn and Rachel, Cory and Lea. And I'll never be able to talk about it to normal people. It was something I lived, breathed, and honestly part of me died with. So I think that's enough of that.

#9 Caryl - The Walking Dead

You can call this whatever it is, some say crack ship, I say...otherwise. It's my ship of ships for TWD. It's my coming home ship. Because that's what they are to each other. They are love. No one tell me otherwise, I live there, I love there. So do they. Deal with it.

#10 Roschel - Friends

Look, say what you want, but I stayed home on Thursday nights just to watch whether they would or wouldn't. Nothing grabbed me like these two. They were lobsters, they were on a break, I didn't give a fuck what it was, only that they had me in a chokehold and that's what I realized what shipping was. Because dammit, I wanted whatever feeling it was. And thus the 9 people above because the passion I sought. So bless it, they needed to be here.

And there you have it, my top 10 ships! Hope you enjoyed! Feel free to add your own :)

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hi!! Do you maybe know of any fics that feature touch-starved Sherlock? Thank you so much in advance, and I hope you have an amazing day!

Hey Nonny!!

AHHH I DO, BUT it's in a combined list if that's okay???

And you're in luck, I'm short on a list this week, so I'm gonna also post you the second short list I have as well!! I hope you enjoy, even if it's not EXACTLY what you're looking for!!

As always friends, if you have something, please add them below!

TOUCHING / TOUCH STARVATION Pt 2

See also: Touching / Touch Starvation

Bond, Sherlock Bond! by macgyvershe (T, 631 w., 1 Ch. || Fluff, Kissing, Couch Cuddles, Sexy Talk with No Explicit Sex, Bond Night, Established Relationship) – John is doing a Bond-a-thon. Sherlock is ready for a night of movies and munchies. Washed down with Devil Mountain coffee. Eventually everything comes together in the best of ways.

The Skin Over My Heart by standbygo (E, 8,849 w., 1 Ch. || Post-Hiatus, Fake Relationship, Case Fic, Dog Tags, Military, Homophobia, Gay Bashing, POV First Person Sherlock, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss / Time, Declarations of Love, Undercover, Haircuts, Flashbacks, Touching, Pining Sherlock, Hospitalization, Metaphors, Introspection, Hand Jobs, On the Couch, John’s Past, Angst with Happy Ending) – Sherlock and John are still trying to adjust to Sherlock's return from his hiatus when John's friend Bill Murray brings them a case. Someone is targeting the LGBTQA+ members of Bill's unit. John and Sherlock go undercover at the unit, but when they end up having to flirt to flush out the suspect, Sherlock realizes he's in over his head.

A Comprehensive Taxonomy of Tobacco-Ash by Silvergirl (E, 11,475 w., 2 Ch. || No TRF AU || Cranky Sherlock, Alternating POV’s, Self-Esteem Issues, Jealous John, Pining John, Confessions, First Kiss, Frottage, Bed Sharing, Sensuality, Cuddling, Touching) – A handsome academic approaches Sherlock about publishing his magnum opus on tobacco-ash in a prestigious scientific journal. Sherlock is quite flattered and flustered, and John’s nose is out of joint.In this little AU there is no Fall and no Mary. Instead, there is humor and smut. Truly a disproportionate amount of smut.

Spare Parts by Raina_at (E, 63,497 w., 10 Ch. || 24th Century / Futurism AU || Post TRF, Pre-TRF Relationship, Case Fic, Mutual Pining, Estrangement, Reconciliation, Science Fiction, Reunion, Nightmares, Angry John, Cybernetic John, Emotional Discussions / Heart to Heart, POV John, Scars, Past Drug Use, Forehead Touching, Emotional Lovemaking, Kissing, Apologies, Kidnapping, Rescue Mission, BAMF John, Bed Sharing, Top Sherlock) – Two years ago, Sherlock Holmes jumped off the roof of New London Hospital. Two months ago, he walked into John's clinic as if no time had passed at all. John hasn't seen him since. But then Sherlock knocks on John's door with a case he can't say no to, and while figuring out why the biggest manufacturer or synthetic limbs in the System is going after veterans, they also need to find out whether there's a way to fix what's broken between them. Part 1 of Realigning Gravity

Bakers with Benefits by Raina_at (E, 88,130 w., 14 Ch. || Great British Bake Off AU || Strangers to Lovers, Switchlock, Friends with Benefits, Mentions of Alcoholism / Past Drug Use, Banter, Flirting, Fluff, Light Angst, Semi-Public Sex, Past Sherlock/Victor, Mutual Pining, POV Sherlock, Obsessive Sherlock, John’s Bum) – Sherlock Holmes has a successful YouTube baking channel, but what he really wants is his own bakery. When an old friend sends him a call for the very first Great British Bake Off, he seizes the opportunity to finally win a sponsor for his bakery. Here's the plan: Win Bake Off, get the bakery, don't fall in love with the handsome Army doctor at the neighbouring station. Easy.

Fade To Black by twistedthicket1 (M, 93,389 w., 29 Ch. || Split Personality Disorder / DID, Action, Romance, Violence, Implied Rape/Non-Con, BAMF John, Fluff and Angst, Baskerville, Human Experimentation, PTSD, Implied Self Harm, Trauma Amnesia, Past Child Sexual Abuse, Protective Sherlock, Smoking, Meddling Mycroft, Past Victor/Sherlock, Gay Sherlock, Sherlock’s Past, First Kiss/Time) – John Watson believes one day he'll just fade. That he'll drown in the black spaces of his mind, and that one day he will no longer exist. It's always been like this, the dark spots marking out moments in his life he can't remember. Where for just a moment he's someone else. Having a Dissociative identity disorder, he can't even be entirely sure he's really who he says he is. Then he meets Sherlock Holmes. A brilliant detective who when he looks at you can read your entire life story. John is immediately fascinated and afraid, half-wondering if maybe Sherlock can see the other personalities in him and half terrified of the thought of him finding out. Becoming his flatmate seems at once to be a wonderful and horrible idea. Yet as John's Blackouts become more and more severe and his other personalities begin to truly awaken and show themselves with Sherlock's help, the two soon discover that sometimes even the kindest person can harbour a demon best left untouched inside of them. Because not all of John's other personalities play nicely and some may be hiding secrets best left undisturbed...

Drawn to Stars by Silvergirl (E, 109,272 w., 60 Ch. || S4 Compliant to TLD / TFP Doesn’t Exist, Sherlock’s Italian Adventure, Sherlock/OC and Johnlock, Jealous John, Mutual Pining, Misunderstandings, First Kiss/Time, Idiots in Love, 3 Part Story, Slow Burn, Inexperienced Sherlock, Bottom Sherlock, Introspection, Multiple Alternating First and Third Person POV, Separation and Reconciliation, Emotional Love Making, Love Confessions via Letters, Angst with Happy Ending) – After the Culverton Smith case Sherlock is clean, working, and looking for a romantic partner—since John has told him that’s what he needs. Shame John didn’t mention he was interested in that role himself, before Sherlock went off to Rome with a gorgeous Italian copper to try to fall in love and become a complete human being.  Part 1 of the Drawn to Stars series

Sherlock Holmes Live by emilycare (E, 488,496 w., 73 Ch. || Theatre AU || Immersive Theatre, Romance, Slow Burn, Fake / Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Bisexual John, Demisexual Gay Sherlock, Alternating POV, Falling in Love, Eventual Case Fic, Soft Sherlock, Panic Attacks, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with Happy Ending, Pining John) –  Down on his luck John Watson answers an advert for a paid role in an experimental play. Enter William Scott with a most unusual proposition: help him test run a two person immersive experience, oh and by the way there is sex and romance involved.

[aimportantsheep]

Here are some fun headcanons for the main Sing cast and, of course, a special focus on Darius since he’s the main character of my heart:

Main Cast Fun Headcanons

Buster Moon:

He secretly watches motivational videos on YouTube to stay inspired, often quoting them without realizing.

Has a surprisingly good singing voice

Rosita:

Her kids have accidentally gone viral on TikTok multiple times for their chaotic antics.

Johnny:

He often hums random tunes that end up becoming full songs, but he’s too shy to perform them right away.

Can’t resist joining street performances if he hears music while walking by.

Ash:

She secretly collects pins for her guitar strap, each one representing a different gig or important moment in her life.

Has a playlist for every mood, but refuses to share them because they’re “too personal.”

Meena:

She’s amazing at charades but pretends to be bad so others can win.

Can memorize any song after hearing it once, which amazes everyone.

Gunter:

Has an alter ego for when he’s “off-stage” and pretends to be a low-energy, serious person, but no one buys it.

Keeps a secret stash of glitter and confetti "for emergencies."

Darius Headcanons 🩷

Since he’s my favorite, let’s go deeper! 🩷✨

Dramatic Flair:

Darius cannot resist adding a dramatic flourish to everything he does. Whether it's ordering coffee or stepping into a room, it has to be an entrance.

He has a signature move for photoshoots—a head tilt and smolder that he’s perfected over the years.

Fashion Icon:

His wardrobe is huge. He has an outfit for every possible scenario, but claims he just “throws something on.”

He secretly loves wearing cozy clothes at home, but will never admit it. Louisa (My oc) probably finds him wrapped in a ridiculous blanket scarf while claiming it's "casual couture."

Over-the-Top Romantic:

If he ever falls for someone (ahem, Louisa), he goes all out. Think surprise serenades, extravagant gifts, and handwritten poetry.

For all his flair, he gets tongue-tied in moments that feel too real emotionally. His overconfidence falters, and he’ll cover it up with a joke or a dramatic gesture.

Routine Perfectionist:

His morning routine is a sacred ritual. Skincare, vocal warm-ups, and a perfectly brewed coffee are non-negotiable.

He spends an absurd amount of time styling his hair, but insists it’s “naturally perfect.”

Hidden Softness:

Darius keeps mementos from fans or people he cares about, like little notes or trinkets, but he hides them so no one thinks he’s sentimental.

He loves the quiet moments—like watching sunsets or fireflies—but only lets his guard down around someone he truly trusts.

[cottoncandy-cult]

Bath Time Cuddles

Mikoto Suoh X Reader

(Y/n) entered the bar that HOMRA used as a base, spotting her boyfriend laying on the couch she felt a tired smile creeping onto her face. Making a B-line to the resting man, she didn't hesitate to lay right on top of him. Mikoto had glanced down at her from where his shoulders reclined against the arm of the couch, raising an eyebrow with a quiet grin as her arms wrapped around his torso. She rolled her eyes playfully, laying her head on his shoulder. She was still in her work uniform, having been working at a popular cat cafe as a waitress. Working lunch rush left her tired, her feet hurting because of the heels she had to wear. So, her favorite thing to do after work was to come back to HOMRA and snuggle with her long-term boyfriend, something he was always willing to accept. The red-haired man had wound one of his arms around her and ran his fingers through her hair, the other moved from behind his head to ash the cigarette he was smoking. "Ya look tired…" His deep voice rumbled lowly, making the young woman look up at him and give a nod. "We had a ton of tourists come in; my feet have been killing me all day." She nuzzled him, speaking just as softly as his fingers gently scratched at the back of her head. No one dared to interrupt them, the red clan knew that when it came to talking with his girlfriend their king didn't want to be interrupted unless it was an emergency. He hummed, sitting up as he put his cigarette out.

His arm stayed curled around her waist and pulled her closer. "Why don't we go take a bath then?" His free arm wrapped under her bum, moving to stand as he holds her up against his body. Her arms had shifted to wrap around his neck, looking up at him with confusion as he began to walk towards the steps with his eyes lazily focused ahead of them. "Alright, sounds good." She giggled some and had given into his whims, the idea of a hot bath with her longtime lover sounded like a good way to end the day. So, she continued to cling to him, her head resting on his shoulder as she relaxed into the steady sway of his stride. Being King meant he had a master bedroom in the bar, so no one would disturb them as they soaked in their bath. She hugged close to him like a koala, her eyes closed as she felt the gentle bounce of his feet moving up the stairs.

Once to the bathroom he had sat her on the sink counter, stepping back and tugging his shirt off, the red-haired male would approach the tub and begin running the hot water. While he prepared the bath (Y/n) got undressed, putting her dirty clothes in the laundry basket before giving her own hair a quick brush. Mikoto liked soaking in hot baths, so the tub itself was of comfortable size and she loved getting to soak with him. Mikoto was the first to get into the bath once it was full, giving her his hand to help her in and settle down between his legs. He wrapped his arms around her waist and leaned back, gently pulling her back to lay against his chest. His other hand took a rag and soaked it into the warm water, gently rubbing down her collarbone and shoulders before moving to her chest and stomach. Every now and then Mikoto liked to be the one to wash her body and hair, it was like a ritual of sorts. He was never pervy with it, instead focused on enjoying the warm feel of her skin as he took care of her like the queen she was. He was always so nonchalant about caring for her and her needs, even if she could bathe herself, he liked the intimacy of being able to care for each other in such a way. Of course, she always returned the favor, her favorite part was washing his soft red hair.

He looked so handsome with his hair wet, whether it's brushed back from his face or left to hang down in his golden eyes. His hair was so soft and fluffy, always becoming so silky as she massages the conditioner in. He squeezed her gently, regaining her attention after noticing her zone out. "Sit up so I can wash your back." His voice was a low rumble, helping her sit up straight as he brushed her hair away from her shoulders and his large hands began to drag the soft rag across her skin. "Love you 'koto…" Her words were warm and sweet, drawing a lazy smile on his face even if she couldn't see it. "Love ya too baby…" He pressed a kiss to the base of her neck, taking a cup of water to rinse off her back before he tilted her head back. She kept her eyes closed, knowing what was coming as he began soaking her hair in warm water. She did her best not to fall asleep as he massaged the shampoo into her (H/c) hair, her body was relaxed and her mind clear. The earlier events at work were distant memories, the only thing on her mind was the man behind her. He was her king and he never treated her like anything less than a queen, his love and loyalty were just 2 of the things she adored about him.

Once he had finished with her hair, both shampooing and conditioning, it was her turn. She turned to face him, her smaller hands taking the rag from his own before she pressed a kiss to the center of his chest. Leaning back once more he lit himself a cigarette, letting her lather his pale skin with the warm rag. His breathing was steady, she could feel his calm heart break against her palm as she gently scrubbed his chest. Soon it was his turn to turn around, allowing her to start washing his back. His lover peppered kisses across his skin as she went until it was time to rinse, she was excited for the next part and was gente with leaning him back some so she could more easily wash his hair. Sitting up on her knees she used the cup to wet his hair, starting her own massage to lather his crimson locks with the sweetly scented shampoo. His eyes remained closed, completely at her mercy as he basked in her gentle touch. She repeated the process with the conditioner as well, but stopped him before he could turn back around.

Instead, she leaned back and pulled him with her. His head rested on her chest as her arms moved to wrap around his neck, he looked up at her curiously with a raised eyebrow and slight smirk as he tilted his head back. Her only response was to kiss his forehead, her hand coming up to stroke his cheek as she held him. He was usually the one to hold her, but he never fought back on those rare occasions where she wanted to be the big spoon. He found it funny, but he enjoyed her touch and was willing to play along. It was just them after all, there was no need for him to keep up his reputation when it was only them. With her he wasn't just the red king, he was her lover Mikoto, and her happiness came before all else.