#...Man I feel like I usually have so much more to say here

[sleepymothafterhours]

hiiii <3 your poly eddie/reader/volt works are sooooo lovely i adore the hurt/comfort

i wanna request something fluffier tho if i may

what about reader who stims by biting/chewing on things and one day when theyre feeling criminally understimulated they just come up to volt or eddie and just... very gently chomps him?? or them doing this as a way of showing affection!

have a nice day <3

oh i love this, absolutely yes, thank you so much for this req!

I gave reader lip piercings too cus i just got my bottom lip pierced a couple days ago and keep irritating them because I need biting the backs.

Eddie & Volt x Gn! Reader

word count: 1,606

Content warnings: biting, stimming via biting your boyfriends

I feel I shouldn't need to say this but do not bite wires IRL.

The 3 times you bite your boyfriends (and the 1 time they bite back)

It's easy to fall into your two boys and adjust to the way they show their love. Volt in subtle touches, words that make your head spin. He is loud about the way he loves you and Eddie, even if Eddie's more quiet about it. You see it in the way Volt looks at him across the club while he's announcing the next act. With Eddie it’s different but you feel it no less. The soft smile he gives you when you enter the bar, the hand on your waist when you need to grab something and need the step ladder. This you could argue branches from the last incident where a ladder was involved but it gives you that warm feeling nonetheless.

When you’re in the club, and it’s packed he’s more reserved with his touches, only getting a quick accidental brush of fingers when he hands you your drink, or his hand brushing hair out of your face, pulling your bottom lip out from between your teeth when you were especially concentrated. When you were alone it was different usually, he’s more touchy, not like Volt is but, you’ll sit together in their little loft while Volt’s still asleep, you’ll be facing him in his lap with your legs wrapped around his waist, as close as you can be while he runs his hands through your hair as if he can’t believe you’re real.

It’s where you find yourself now actually. “I know you don’t technically have to eat but, do you want some breakfast? Before you have to work on opening?” You ask, he’s braiding and unbraiding a piece of your hair.

“No I’m okay. Just wanna sit here with you.” He says, you rest your head on his shoulder, enjoying the quiet, the peace, the soft hum of electricity that’s always there. Oh how lucky you were.

You lifted your head just slightly and without really thinking you nipped his shoulder. Not hard enough to hurt but enough that he could feel it. “Did you just..bite me?” He asks letting out a confused laugh, you nod biting the backs of your the piercings on your bottom lip to hide your smile. “Sorry should I not?” He shakes his head stifling his laughter to not wake the white haired man beside him.

“Not a bad thing spark just wasn’t what I was expecting.” He runs his fingers through your hair again as Volt yawns and shuffles in the bed, his eyes open and find yours and you swear the hum of electricity in the room increases just slightly, only for a moment before it’s gone again.

---

It doesn’t happen again for a good amount of days. Some nights you don’t wind up at the club, wrapped up in helping other objects in the house and running out of charges before you realize. But when you find yourself there one night it’s not as busy, there’s no maintenance to help with, there wasn’t even an act. It’s too quiet, and the lack of movement has you catching your teeth on the metal of your piercings. It’s not enough. By the time the bar closes you’ve paced the perimeter at least four timed, talked to Dorian, begged Eddie for something to do. Your teeth feel like they’re vibrating and it almost hurts you not to bite your nails. Volt sits next to you having chased out the last few stragglers wrapping his arm around your waist, your head falls dramatically with a sigh onto his other arm. He chuckles, “Bored live wire?”

Honestly you applaud yourself for the five seconds you restrained yourself. You bite his arm the same way you did Eddie a few days ago. Then again, then did kind of a fake gnawing before pulling your head up immediately better. He sputters, though he’s normally the smoothest man he seems caught off guard, “Not that I’m exactly mad about it my spark but..why?” You shrug.

“I can feel my heartbeat in my teeth. If I didn’t do something I was going to die.” He chuckles at this, “I’m serious!” You fall against him dramatically with a sigh as Eddie makes his way over.

You didn’t mention the fact that sometimes you looked at them and it was like you felt so much emotion for the boys you just wanted to squeeze them like a boa constrictor but would settle for just a little bite. Like right now as you were hugging Eddie and moved your head slowly to get in prime biting position before you heard him mumble, “Aht. Don’t even think about it.” Pushing your face away from his shoulder and neck. You wait, then lower your head slowly again only to get pushed again. It becomes a game of sorts, you know if he wanted you to stop he’d say and you would. You got a couple bites in before dissolving into laughter. “You’re so weird.” Eddie says, a chuckle leaving his throat. “Coming up tonight?” He asks as you sit back down. You shouldn’t, you want to. You don’t, you know Skylar needs a charge and the bots understand so you part for the night.

---

It's movie night, something that started without your knowledge. You sat between Volt's legs on the couch head resting on his shoulder while Eddie laid half asleep on the other side of him. You don't think you've seen either of your partners looking this content in awhile. You tried to pay attention. And you got through the first half! But the second half of the movie made you restless biting your tongue, bouncing your foot while you tried to keep yourself from going and finding something else to do or pulling out your phone.

Volts arm is slung across your chest, you study the fabric of his shirt focused on the threads and the bit of exposed skin at his wrist, you bite your lip pulling at the skin feeling the sting as you peel off the dried skin. You lean down, slow. He pushes your face back up. You lean again, push. You fidget in your place and he seems to realize what you were doing. He takes one of the bracelets on his wrist, one that matches your own as well as the necklace that Eddie kept tucked under his shirt at all times. It was made out of a thick piece of blue wire. You took a deep breath as you bit down on it, focusing more on the movie.

When you try to bite him again he doesn't stop you, the bracelet now on your own wrist you leaned down kissing his hand before biting his wrist. He chuckles lowly not wanting to disturb the others. You bite down again before pulling back up and trace patterns on his arm instead. When the credits roll you slide the bracelet back on his wrist and listen to him and Eddie bicker about him falling asleep.

"No I totally watched the whole thing I love..whatever movie that was." Eddie says, running a hand through his sleep mussed hair.

Volt sighs, "Sure Spark." He looks at you with a smile and mouths Feeling better?

You've never been better than you were here and now.

----

It had been a few days since you had realized the two of them.

you expected them to leave, pursue the things they wanted to, relish the freedom you'd given them. That's what everyone else had done.

There was a reason you had waited to do it.

But they didn't leave. And it was strange adjusting to living with them full time rather than seeing them once a day.

You sat in the kitchen watching Eddie cook dinner, when you found an opening you stood, wrapped your arms around him and kissed his jaw with a smile before burying your face in his shoulder. "Hello to you to Live wire." He says glancing at you, he's careful to turn himself in a way that will make it so you don't get popped by the grease from whatever he's making. You respond with a hum and a gentle bite to the shoulder.

When he's done he sets your plate down, calls Volt from the living room and turns you around with a look on his face that you couldn't quite get a read on.

His head hits your shoulder, you sway in the kitchen for a moment before. Bite.

"Did you just-?"

"Bite you? Yeah I did. Should I not have?" You shake your head no at his words, and he looks relieved.

"I'm supposed to bite you not the other way around." You give him a fake pout that he kisses off your face. Volt chuckles from the doorway.

"Am I interrupting?" He says pushing off the wall to hug you from behind. There's silence, nothing but the three of you enjoying the proximity. And then. Bite.

"You motherfucker." You mumble, he does it again, his teeth are sharper than Eddie's are and he's careful not to bite too hard. He knows you well enough to know how much pressure to use.

"Okay okay. Foods gonna get cold cut it out." Eddie pulls away and you giggle as you find your seat. You and Volt make eye contact across the table where you mouth, feel better? He nods shooting you a wink.

You think back to the first time you met them, that feeling you got deep in the pit of your stomach, it never went away, that fluttering you felt. Nor did the urge to bite them when they made you feel too many things.

this is all i could think of while writing this

I LOVE MY BOYFRIENDS WHO ARE ALSO BOYFRIENDS

m.list

[thought-you-knew]

i'll never blame her, i kinda hate her

Summary: being in denial about your feelings is easy until it isn't. because why is bob dating someone who isn't you. or an even better question, why is bob trying to make you a third wheel in his new relationship? this is pt. 2 of what more could i want

Pairings: bob reynolds x fem!reader/ex-widow!reader/avoidant attchment!reader

Warnings: fluff, bit of angst, language, friends-to-lovers/idiots in love, but are both in denial, slow burnish, avoidant attachment tendencies, reader is trying her best, but is she?, a bit of kate x yelena, very limited use of y/n i'm trying my best not to use it, fem!reader, but there's not too much description, proofreadish.

Author's note: finally, here's pt.2 and i'm not sure how i feel about it. anyways, there will most likely be pt. 3 because i'm incapable of ending things and drawing things out. i blame all the kdramas i watch. anyways, hope you guys like it (: feedback is always appreciated.

WC: 3.6K

"Maybe your brain isn't free from mind control," Yelena says, half joking, from Kate's couch. "I'm serious! Why are you putting yourself in this situation?"

You have found refuge in Kate's apartment. It's not like you have been avoiding the Watchtower... okay, you've most definitely been avoiding it.

"Be nice!" Kate throws a pillow at Yelena, who catches it flawlessly before it hits her face. "Her man just got stolen."

I'm keeping my options open. What a liar.

Yelena sits up on the couch and faces you. "Be all, bitch give me my scarf back."

"It's-"

Yelena throws some popcorn at you. "Don't you dare say it's fine."

You brush off the popcorn. "There could've been a mistake."

"A mistake? She has your scarf."

Okay, fair enough. There are only so many excuses you could make for Bob, but when it comes to the scarf. You have nothing.

You think back to that time a few months ago when Bob gave you that scarf.

It was a Saturday morning, and you dragged Bob with you to a flea market in Chelsea. As usual, the area was crowded despite the early hour. Every now and then, you glanced towards Bob, making sure he was doing okay.

You both weren't a fan of big crowds, but curiosity got the better of you when Yelena mentioned that she and Kate had gone a few times. Bob was slightly in front of you when someone from behind you rudely shoved past, causing you to collide with his back.

As if it were second nature to him, Bob wraps an arm around your shoulders.

"Is this okay?" He asks.

You learn in closer, seeking out the warmth of Bob. "Mhm."

A few stands later, something catches Bob's eye. He removes his arms and grabs your hand instead. You try to ignore the feeling of his hand in yours. His hand had started to form calluses from training and working out with Bucky and John.

He tightens his hold on your hand since it's a more crowded area, and you unconsciously wrap your free hand around his bicep. He tenses slightly, but relaxes.

"Where are we going?"

Bob stops in front of a stand that's selling vintage clothes. His eyes scan the scarves that are hung up. He waits patiently until the owner notices him. They converse, and Bob points to a red paisley scarf. Once it's in his hands, he turns towards you with it slightly raised.

"Pretty scarf, it's definitely your color." You remark.

He grins and tugs you closer. Before you know what's happening, Bob is wrapping the scarf around your neck. His fingers brush against your neck as he gently untucks your hair from the scarf.

There's a moment of silence as Bob stares at you, and you start feeling that familiar fluttering sensation in your stomach. You have no idea what he's thinking as he takes in the detail of your face.

"Pretty scarf for a pretty girl." You're a hundred percent sure your brain stopped working. Because where the hell did that come from? Since when did Bob say things like that? Never.

A second later, he's back to being flustered and slightly awkward. "Uh-heh. D-do you like it?"

You look down and admire the softness and the detailing of the scarf. It's a dark red, paisley-patterned design, with tassels on the ends.

You smile with a nod, and that's that. The scarf is yours.

Bob paid for the scarf and ignored you the whole time, going back to the Watchtower when you tried to forcefully pay him back.

He turns to you with a glint in his eye. "How about this, can I ask for a favor instead?"

"A favor?"

He steps closer and tugs at the end of the scarf. "Yeah, is that okay?"

"Depends on the favor."

He laughs. "Trust me, it's not a bad one."

"What do you have in mind?"

He takes your hand and begins walking again. "You'll see."

"...and don't get me started on how she hangs off him. Bob isn't that comfortable with being touched unless he fully trusts the person." You tune back in to the conversation.

"Oh, she's not that bad." Kate tries to defend Beth. Oh, Kate, she means well, but she's only met Beth once, and that was by accident.

Last week, Bob dragged you on his date with his new girlfriend, Beth, to a dog park. You were feeling miserable, annoyed, and tired, to say the least.

You kept a reasonable distance between the two during the walk there, despite all the times Bob kept looking at you over his shoulder. The more time you spent around the pair, the more you realized that Beth was a chatterbox. Which isn't a bad thing, but when your social battery is at a constant 50% on a good day, you have no desire to be around her.

Beth and Bob had barely started going out, but every time Beth dragged Bob somewhere, Bob was dragging you along. You were trying to be a good friend to Bob, but you were getting tired of being his pseudo-emotional support dog. It's amusing that Bob was more attached to you than to his actual support dog.

Kate and Pizza Dog were a blessing in disguise. Kate had barely spent five minutes with the three of you before you were dragging Kate and Pizza Dog away from Bob and Beth while blurting out some lame ass excuse as to why you and Kate needed to leave.

"That was once, and you should hear what she had to say about you and Pizza Dog."

That caught Kate's attention. "What did she say about Pizza Dog?"

"Oh, so now you have your doubts about Beth?"

"Lena, just tell me what she said."

"Just how you didn't have him on a leash, and blah, blah, blah. That girl can talk."

Kate huffs. "His leash was in my hand! We were at a dog park. The moment we left, he was leashed back up, isn't that right?" Kate turns to you, and you nod.

Kate continues to rant on about Pizza Dog and how she's a good dog mom when your phone vibrates in your pocket. It could be only one person.

Bob.

Everyone else on the team is a horrible texter, including you.

bob: hey, where are you?

You internally groan. You completely forgot that you agreed to meet Bob and Beth at some diner near the Watchtower.

"I should go." You say even though every bone in your body is telling you not to, and you start to gather your things.

"Bob has you brainwashed or well-trained."

"Lena, stop."

"She has a point." Kate agrees and gives you a sympathetic look. It doesn't ease the ache in your chest. "You need to think about your feelings as well."

"I'll see you guys later." You say and rush out the door, away from their judgment and, in Kate's case, pity.

Kate and Yelena stare at the door before sharing a knowing look.

"It's pathetic," Yelena says. "They both remind me of these sad stray cats Ava claims she's not feeding. She fed them once, and now they keep coming back."

"Lena! But, so true," Kate sighs and cuddles up against Yelena, "things won't change unless they confess their feelings or Bob breaks up with Beth."

Yelena bolts up with a gasp. "You're a genius." She turns to Kate with a devious look.

"Lena, no. We're too old to be messing with other people's relationships." But Yelena wasn't listening. She was scheming, and she had the perfect person in mind.

"Kate, my love. You're still on good terms with Sam Wilson, right?"

"Ugh, I know this will blow up in our faces and possibly not work in the end. But yeah, I'll reach out to him."

"The sooner the better. I have a weird feeling about Beth."

The moment you enter the diner, you spot Bob's familiar slouched figure in a booth far from the door. No, Beth, that's a good sign. He looks up the moment you sit down and smiles.

"Look who finally showed up."

"I'm not the only one who's late." You pointedly look at the empty spot next to Bob.

He mumbles something and tugs at his sleeve. "I told her to be here later."

"Oh?" You say, as you try to mask the anxiousness.

Before you two can continue, the waitress appears and Bob orders two milkshakes, one of which is your favorite.

When she walks away, Bob realizes what he's done. "Sorry, was that okay? I mean, that's what you always order. Unless you weren't feeling a milkshake, I can always-"

He continues to mess with his sleeve, and you reach out, placing your hand on his. "Bob, it's fine."

The waitress returns with your milkshakes, and you don't waste any time and start in on yours. Looking up, you see that Bob has a faraway look in his eye as he stares out the window behind you.

"So, what deep, dark secrets did you want to tell me without your girlfriend here?" You say drawing the attention back to you.

"Beth isn't my girlfriend."

You might not have the best history when it comes to your past relationships. But what Bob and Beth have been doing these past few weeks has definitely been giving boyfriend and girlfriend.

"Bob, c'mon. You can be honest with me."

"I dunno, Beth has been great." He half heartedly says.

"If you're having doubts, you shouldn't be stringing her along."

His eyes meet yours, and for a second, you think you see a hint of gold around his irises. All he does is continue to stare at you and start to panic. His abilities didn't include mind reading, did they?

"You said you wanted to keep your options open," you gently continue, "maybe you should be more open about that with her, don't you think?"

"What do you think about my hair?" The complete change in subject is jarring, to say the least.

"Y-your hair? Well, it's no longer blonde, you're about that, right?"

"It's getting long, don't you think?" His hair has gotten slightly longer since the Void incident. "Beth says, I should cut it, what do you think?"

What do you think? What you think is that, somehow, his longer hair has made him even more attractive. As if that was possible.

"I like it, but it's your decision, not mine, or Beth's."

But Bob stopped listening after you said you liked his hair the length it is.

"Well, if I did wanna trim it, I want you to do it."

"Absolutely not!"

"Aw, why? C'mon, I know you cut Yelena's hair." Bob pleads.

"Yeah, and look how that turned out."

"Are you saying her hair looks bad? I'm telling Lena you said that," he pulls out his phone and starts to text Yelena. You try pulling the phone out of Bob's hand, but he has a death grip on it.

You give up. "Fine, I'll cut your hair on one condition."

Bob puts his phone down. "What condition?"

"I want my scarf back."

Finally, it's out in the open. What you've been wondering these past few weeks.

"What scarf?" He pretends to not know what you're talking about, and he's doing a bad job of it.

"The scarf, the one you gave me from the flea market. The one I wore all the time."

"Oh, that one," he awkwardly chuckles, and he's back to messing with his sleeve.

"Why did you give it to her?" You're staring him down, but he's refusing to look up.

"I didn't think it was a big deal," he mumbles.

You wanna scream, instead you stare in disbelief and say. "Okay, if that's not a big deal, then I guess it's not a big deal that I tell your girlfriend how you and I slept together."

Okay, you know it's not a fair comparison, and it was strictly platonic for the most part. Bob looks up, and his expression remains impassive.

He shrugs, "Like I said, she's not my girlfriend. Besides, you're the one who gave it back."

"What fuck are you talking about?"

"I found the scarf in my room after you left to go on that mission with Yelena."

"Yeah, I left there by mistake. Why on earth would I give it back to you? You gave it to me."

Bob seems at a loss for words, or maybe he knew his overthinking got the better of him, and he might have fucked up a bit.

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh. It meant a lot when you gave it to me."

"I'm sorry, I just thought..." He trails off but doesn't continue.

"Thought what?" You gently pry.

"Hey, guys! Sorry, I'm late! You know how it takes forever to get into the city on a Sunday." Beth slides next to Bob and leans in to kiss his cheek. Bob dodges it and plays it off as if he's rubbing his eye.

Now that Beth's here, all you want to do is leave.

"Actually, you have perfect timing. I was just about to head out," you say while standing up.

"Wait, what?" Bob has a pleading look on his face, but you ignore it.

"Yeah, Kate asked if I could watch Pizza Dog for her."

"Aw, you're such a good friend!" Beth replies in her overly cheerful tone.

Once again, you're up way too late, only this time you're staring blankly at your bedroom ceiling. The sad glow in the dark stars that Kate put up stare back at you. Sadly, Kate (Yelena) didn't let you crash on her couch again, so you moped all the way back to the Watchtower.

Thankfully, Bob wasn't back, so you were able to grab provisions before locking yourself away in your room.

Then you hear it, that familiar knock. The one you and Bob had made up when he first started coming to your room at the dead of night. 

Just ignore it. Pretend you're sleeping. He’ll go away.

Part of you can’t believe he has the gall to show up here. It has been weeks since he’s visited your room, and that’s mostly on your half. The past week, you’ve crashed at Kate’s place, and the other times you’ve passed out on the couch in the common area.

The gentle knocking continues as you put a pillow over your face.

"I know you're awake," Bob's muffled voice says.

Groaning, you sit up and glare at your door. Maybe he can see how pissed you are, too. Marching over, you swing open the door.

"How'd you know I was awake?"

"Okay, don't freak out, but I can kinda hear your heartbeat and breathing change when you're actually asleep." He shyly replies.

You panic, and your mind starts racing. Oh my god, Bob can hear all that. What else has he heard? Okay, no need to panic, everything is fine. But your heart is already thudding away in your chest.

Oh, yeah, Bob can hear it by the concerned look on his face. Great.

"That's great," is all you say, and you silently invite him inside, and you head back towards your bed.

"I'm sorry, I can't help it," he hovers at the end of your bed.

"Bob, stop saying you're sorry." It's then that you see that he has your scarf in his hands. "Is that?"

You pat the side of the bed that Bob has deemed his side. Once he's seated against the headboard, he hands over your scarf.

A sense of calm washes over you once it's back in your hands.

"I know, I need to stop saying it, but just this one last time. I'm sorry about the scarf." You look over at Bob and see that he's already watching you.

"I still don't understand why you thought I was giving it back to you."

"Like I said, just my overthinking." But you know that's not the whole truth, and Bob knows it as well. You let it go for the time being and place the scarf on your nightstand. That thing is never leaving your room again, unless it's around your neck.

You're both lying next to each other, but not touching, when you ask the next question. "Are you and Beth still?"

"For now."

For now, what does that mean?

"But still not you're girlfriend?"

"You got it."

Men

Bob turns on his side to look at you. "We're okay, though, right?"

Oh Bob

"Yeah, we're cool. Why are you asking?"

"It just feels like you're pulling away?"

You continue to stare at the glow-in-the-dark stars. "I don't want to overstep."

Bob furrows his brow and scooches closer. "Overstep what?"

You place a hand on his chest to stop him from coming closer. "You might not see Beth as your girlfriend, but she definitely sees herself as your girlfriend. That's what I mean."

"What do you call this?" He motions between you two.

Okay, you're a hypocrite, but so is he.

"This is a one last time thing." You turn your back on him, but you feel his gaze burning into the back of your head.

Your internal clock wakes you too early, and it feels like you're burning up. Or, it's just Bob clinging on to you.

Your door swings open, and an all-too-chipper Yelena breezes in. She's got two coffee mugs in her hands, and she hasn't seen Bob yet.

"Good morning, my little демпинг! Did you see that e-mail from Valent-holy shit!" Yelena now spots a half-awake Bob who's glued to your back.

You sit up, and Bob makes a disgruntled noise before trying to pull you back to him. Yelena is standing there with a semi-shocked expression.

Trying to remain calm, cool, and collected, you motion for her to continue.

She smirks. "Anyways, you two better get up. Valentina has called for a meeting in the briefing room.

Bob finally sits up, his hair a curly mess. "Is that coffee?" Is all he says, and you roll your eyes at how unfazed he is that Yelena is here.

"I can't believe he was in your bed," Yelena hisses as you sit down next to her. You shoot her a dirty look and do a quick scan of the room. Having four people with super hearing wasn't ideal in this current moment.

You had nothing to worry about. Alexei, Bob, and Bucky hadn't arrived, and John was talking with Ava.

Until he turned his gaze towards the two of you. "What's this about bed sharing?" He asks with a grin.

"None of your business."

"Oh, touchy."

Before Yelena could flip John off, the rest of the team, including Valentina and Mel, entered the room.

"Oh, good, you're all here," Valentina said without looking away from her phone while thrusting her bag at Mel.

"More like, why are we here so early?" Ava replies.

Valentina continues as if she hadn't heard Ava. "So, we all know that things are still touchy with a certain Sam Wilson." She turns her attention to Bucky, who avoids her gaze. "But I have sweet-talked him into doing this joint Gala here in New York next week."

Bucky rolls his eyes. "I was the one who talked to him."

"Anyways, I think we need a little PR moment, don't you?"

"What are you going on about?" Yelena asks.

"We need to show the public that there's no bad blood between us and Sam Wilson's team."

"I think it's too late for that," John says, "have you seen the articles that have been coming out about us?"

Valentina gives him a condescending look. "That's where the PR comes in." It honestly makes no sense to you, and the rest of the team thinks the same.

"How's a gala supposed to help?"

"Well, if everyone would stop interrupting me and let me finish. Now, any PR is good PR. So, we need to make it look good and believable, and I mean we're halfway there." She's pointing towards you, Bucky, Bob, and Yelena.

"Us?" Bob replies, looking even more confused.

"Yes, Robert, you four. Bucky with his history with Sam Wilson, Yelena with her cute Hawkeye Jr. girlfriend, and you, Bob, with your sweet little innocent civilian girlfriend."

You're a little creeped out about how Valentina knows about Yelena and Kate's relationship, even more so about Beth.

Wait four?

"Once the media and public see you all with your respective partners, they'll start changing their minds.”

"Uh, excuse me, four?" You cut in, and Valentina sighs and says your name.

"I was getting to you, sweetheart. Mel says the media and public are still buzzing about your mission, a couple of months ago in Prague. Calling it your 'Heroic Avengers Moment', pose included."

"Yeah, but Ava and Alexei were there too."

She shrugs. "Yeah, but the media is focused on you, so why not give them something to really talk about?"

"No, I don't feel-"

"So, I was thinking to myself, who else is the it boy of the month? Sorry, John, it's not you. Someone who's equally as heroic, charming, daring, and not to mention, and I quote, "a total hottie".

The moment she said total hottie, you knew who she meant, and you felt your heart drop. You shoot a glare at Yelena, who's innocently watching Valentia.

When you told Yelena that, it was in total confidence, a drunken one at that, but still.

"The golden boy himself, Joaquin Torres. Congrats, honey, you got yourself a date with The Falcon."

A/N: it's finally done, i didn't think this would see the light of day. You can find the rest of my stories here

[jesncin]

Epiphany: How we re-imagined New 52 Martian Manhunter into a trans allegory

One of the Martian Manhunter storylines I've always felt equal parts gripped and let down by was the New 52 storyline Martian Manhunter: The Epiphany. For me, nothing invites creativity more than missed potential, so this storyline has been on my radar as one to adapt and re-work. With the DC Pride fanzine signups announced, that opportunity finally opened up! Here's the final comic if you're curious.

The premise for New 52 MM: After a near-death experience, J'onn J'onzz finds himself split into multiple human (and not so human) personas- all of which must unite to become the Martian Manhunter again and fight against an alien threat.

With J'onn splitting himself into multiple identities (including a woman who represents his heart and is attracted to men), this storyline has invited multiple queer readings of J'onn as a character- even making its way into a Screen Rant article about it. Unfortunately the latter half of Epiphany convolutes itself to the point of giving J'onn no time for self-reflection on his fluid identity. So here's how we adapted it!

First let's look at how canon!Epiphany reimagines J'onn's story. I like to pitch the infamous New 52 as DC's rebooted universe with a "dark and edgy makeover" and this 12 issue Martian Manhunter solo is no different. No longer is J'onn just a martian citizen (usually cop) that is teleported to Earth one day- instead The Martian Manhunter is a bunch of exceptional martians fused into one. The greatest warriors and intellects Mars has to offer, fused into a Super Martian ultimate weapon you could say. J'onn serves as the creature's soul, and then Ma'al (a red military martian, no familial relation to J'onn) does some Banned Blood Martian Magic to make J'onn into a monster. Because of course he does. And then J'onn is sent to Earth, because Mars (the planet) rejects him.

Instead of doing all that, we opted to retell the classic J'onn origin story: "a martian is magically teleported to Earth by scientist Saul Erdel". We felt a queer Martian Manhunter story hinges on how martians, as shapeshifters, contextualize their identity based on how humans perceive them. How and why does J'onn pick his human form, "John Jones"?

The general canon origin story is that J'onn is teleported to Earth by scientist Saul Erdel, and it shocks the scientist so much to see a martian that Erdel has a heart attack and dies. Sometimes it's the blast from the teleportation that causes Erdel's house to fall apart and that's what ends him. In one canon (Brightest Day), Saul has a daughter named Melissa who helps him with the teleportation machine.

[spliced panels from Martian Manhunter 2019]

Many modern versions of J'onn's origin story have it so that his human form comes from impersonating human-being-detective John Jones (originally a white man, now popularly reimagined as a Black man) after he is killed while working on a case, furthering the ties Martian Manhunter has to the police force. It always felt odd to me that J'onn is so unmoved by Erdel's death but then reacts completely differently to Jones' death by taking his form.

Martian Manhunter 2019 tried explaining this as a part of the mourning process for martians. That they impersonate the forms of the dead for a while to mourn them. So by identifying with Jones as a cop, J'onn gives him an honorific Martian send off. All while casually ignoring Erdel's death.

I instead wanted J'onn to have a more active relationship to humans and Earth culture, and keeping the Erdels alive felt like the first step. We decided to flesh out J'onn's sorely lacking cast system by not only having his twin brother Ma'al here, but also having the Erdels (both Melissa and Saul) act as J'onn's version of the Kent parents without feeling derivative.

They're a kindly family that take J'onn and Ma'al in, accepting them for who they are (our version of Melissa is Deaf, so she connects to our version of Ma'al who is mute) and imparting Earth culture to them. The "John Jones" persona turns into a homage to his chosen family. Accompanied by "Malcolm Jones"- Ma'al's human form!

Next up is Saul Erdel giving the Martian brothers a talk before they leave for the city! This whole part is influenced by J'onn actor Carl Lumbly's own thoughts for J'onn's relationship to not being bound by constraints of human identity;

"I think it was no big deal for J'onn. Shapeshifting was just part of what you do. It was the way he was, it was natural. And I felt that that was sort of a benign super-gift because it was such a part of his people. I felt that there was a responsibility in shapeshifting, of doing honor to what you're representing. Shapeshifting is one thing, taking over someone's spirit is another. He didn't tamper, he left things intact. Like a gas that will be gone, "I'll blow away after this, you won't even know I was here." I just think that idea of "spirit" which is beyond color, gender, planetary affiliation, J'onn could access all of that."

This was so well put that I had to credit Carl Lumbly in the comic itself because I wanted to keep his words intact! As a person of color, I always struggled getting behind genderqueer shapeshifter characters in mainstream media because there was often a careless disregard towards the forms they took on. Double Trouble from She Ra would say “Of course we all wear costumes. I just happen to be able to wear other people as costumes”. And it's hard not to find it appropriative. The idea that J'onn had respect for the forms he took on, separated him from every other "body-snatching" fear-based alien shapeshifter. There was something intersectional about his genderqueer-ness.

J'onn's relationship to Black culture in our take is heavily influenced by how he was portrayed in CW Supergirl! Truly the best to actually dig into his relationship with race regardless of how cheesy and heavy handed the show could get.

Speaking of CW Supergirl, Al Crane the bartender is from CW Supergirl. He's an alien in disguise working at a gay alien bar in that show, but he's just an average human in our au. Finding a canon bear was like striking a gold mine. No, he and J'onn aren't a couple in that show, but I can wish.

Up next we have Cha'arn O'zzm from Martian Manhunter Identity 2019! Since Ma'alefa'ak is no longer the big antagonist of this re-mix, we decided to make room for another (red) Martian to fill that role. We have other plans for fleshing out Cha'arn's motives, but for the sake of this story focusing on J'onn's feelings, we didn't get to explore those motives. So for now, just assume Cha'arn's ideals boil down to transphobia. I consider Cha'arn the most Shaped (tm) Martian villain of all time btw.

OH BOY, it's time to talk about the 4 J'onn personas! I had a blast remixing these.

Let's start with the most direct adaptation! Mr. Biscuits, J'onn's cookie-loving subconscious. I love him, best comic relief tall lanky weirdo, he never did anything wrong.

In the original story, Mr Biscuits teams up with a little girl named Alicia. Their friendship sort of serves as the heart of the story (I say "sort of" because it gets lost a lot).

Up next is J'onn's heart! Originally a Catwoman-esque Arab woman named "Pearl" from Dubai, we instead replaced her with an adaptation of Amrit Jessawalia, J'onn's main human persona from Justice League Infinity. Amrit is an Indian woman from New Delhi. In our take, her full name is Amrit Jayanthi. We wanted this take to feel holistic to the times J'onn has shapeshifted into different characters, so pulling outside of the New 52 storyline was part of that.

In the original story, Pearl exists as the emotional part of J'onn. She wants to be recognized as an individual, and even transforms into her own kind of Martian before being absorbed into J'onn for an edgy ending. It always struck me as an unnecessarily cruel finale! J'onn doesn't internalize any of his new experiences as multiple humans, he just gobbles them up to be angsty. We wanted our take on this story to flip this part entirely. J'onn doesn't have to deny either part of himself, alien or human. Instead he should learn to grow from his new experiences.

For our take on Amrit/Pearl, we borrowed from cases of fugue states. We wanted Amrit's story to feel like an Anastasia "discovering you're a princess" awakening, but one riddled with running away from grief and guilt. She feels her loss of memory lifts a weight from her shoulders, but she's also curious about who she really is.

Canonically, Daryl Wessel represented J'onn's "manhunter" mind. He has the hardest time coming to terms with all the wacky martian cosmic horror happening around him, only truly coming into his power in the end as a self-sacrifice moment. I decided to take that stubbornness and make it my version of Daryl's defining trait.

So in our take, Daryl became the epitome of an angsty noir detective. We aged him up and leaned into J'onn's more "traumatized father" side of his character. This would make him foil Amrit better. Because while she's seemingly freed from her memories, Daryl is haunted by his manufactured ones.

Special fact, we gave Daryl a middle name! The name "Paolo" is from the original Ostrander Martian Manhunter run. Issue #17 "Hidden Faces" a one-off story about the many identities J'onn takes on being exposed. One of them is a Portuguese kid named Paolo.

Up next is THE BABY. The biggest departure from J'onn's original 4 personas! I'll save it for an eventual review of New 52 Martian Manhunter, but I don't really like J'onn's 4th persona in the story. He's this old guy called "Mould" who dresses up like a generic DIY superhero. He's meant to represent J'onn's head, like the logical and rational parts. And he exists to give exposition. Sure, Mould has some moments of characterization that reveal he was in on the big twist the whole time, but that doesn't make him more interesting to me.

Mould never feels as fully formed as the other personas do. Even Mr Biscuits has his friendship with Alicia going for him. Meanwhile Mould is just there to Explain Everything. I felt that there should be more contrast between the cast system made up by the 4 personas. So we took that "over-rationalizing" aspect of Mould and put it into Daryl instead. For the new 4th persona, we pulled elsewhere in New 52 Martian Manhunter.

So canonically, the cosmic spirit of Mars takes on the form of J'onn's son To Shame Martiankind. The martians read their planet's cries for help as a threat and met it with violence, leading the spirit of Mars to destroy them all. J'onn's personas meet up with the spirit of Mars to get some exposition on this new origin story. Upon looking at the Martian child, Daryl involuntarily cries. Because something in him recognizes the martian kid as the son he lost.

This one moment was where we found our new fourth persona. Instead of the 4 personas being 3 humans and 1 Martian (Mr Biscuits), it would instead be 2 humans and 2 martians! While Mr Biscuits' would be the Martian guy with limited powers who could seek the other personas out, the Martian Baby (much like the spirit of Mars) would be an unpredictable source of great power. In our take, Ma'al mistakes him for a young "baby J'onn" only to discover through Amrit that J'onn had taken the form of his stillborn daughter (in our au this baby is named In'dra).

PLEASE KNOW that I wanted The Baby to originally appear to Ma'al in the form of a stray kitten named "Tomasso" to reference Hidden Faces again. That's why Double Stuff the cat is looking at the Baby like that in its intro panel. But I didn't have the space. Just know that it's canon to my au ok. J'onn showed up as a kitten, played with Double Stuff and THEN shapeshifts into the Baby. Get it right!

Overall, the personas in canon may represent parts of J'onn, but they don't help us to understand his character any better. They don't serve as character studies of his psyche, they don't serve as Inside Out-style allegories of his feelings, they just kind of exist to be horrified by who they truly are. In this re-imagining, we wanted each persona to need each other in some way. They have the answer to each other, because together they are whole.

The trouble with Martian Manhunter having little to no cast system is that it leads to stories like his New 52 storyline feeling empty. The narrative needs an active force bringing these lost personas together. While there is some appeal to the personas being confused and scrambling their way to find each other, they ultimately rely on some cosmic J'onn-force to unite them. They're passive in their eventual reunion, brought together by cosmic destiny instead of their own motivations.

This is where our take on a redeemed Ma'alefa'ak comes in! Ma'al serves as the close friend to J'onn who believes he's still alive somehow. He's someone the personas can bounce off of, someone who keeps the goal of bringing J'onn back focused. If I could expand this storyline, we'd be getting all sorts of drama with how little the human personas recognize or remember Ma'al. Lots of avenues for drama!

This panel is from Ostrander Martian Manhunter #7 (My Brother's Keeper). Time for the big Fernus reveal! Yes, the really funny twin cringe panel is back, and it's being taken very literally haha. Fernus is from JLA 1997 issue #84-89 "Trial by Fire". Canonically, he's an evil version of J'onn that shows up when his immunity to fire is gone. Canonically, the Martians used to be an evil race of powerful Burning Martians.

In our AU, the Burning Martians are an ancient variation of Martian that have been long forgotten. Ma'al showed signs of being related to them in some way through his immunity to fire, but was never interested in exploring that connection. Turns out Fernus is the form J'onn and Ma'al take when they're fused, Steven Universe-style, together!

These lower panels are from Ostrander Martian Manhunter #35 (In My Life Part 3)

Canonically, the tragedy of J'onn and Ma'alefa'ak's relationship was that they should be one entitiy, but they instead split to being one really good twin and one really evil twin. So there's moments of J'onn offering that they fuse in some way for "balance". Ma'al rejects this like the icon he is, saying "I will not be you! I will not give up who I am! If I am flawed, then I will be flawed!".

Which, metatextually, when you pair that with New 52 MM's ending where J'onn absorbs Pearl despite her protests to be recognized as an individual, makes J'onn accidentally look like a pretty shitty hero! He's denying both these characters of their full personhood, expecting them to just accept being a part of him. So in our version, we have both Ma'al and J'onn understand that Fernus is a part of them, but rejecting that as their true forms. Because in our au J'onn just loves Ma'al the way he is, no change and "curing" required.

We bring all this back to the twin origin story. Because as twins, they split from one cell to become who they are. And the premise of Epiphany is J'onn splitting himself up again.

Canonically, J'onn's New 52 solo ends in the world's most abrupt fashion possible. He's miserable about hallucinating an alien invasion, Alicia tries comforting him by saying (essentially) "at least you tried", and J'onn flies off (probably unconvinced). In our retelling of Epiphany, J'onn actually gets a chance to interrogate his epiphany.

In our version, the entire story is framed and retold through J'onn talking things out with Saul Erdel. He reflects on this adventure, INCLUDING the iconic kiss Pearl has with Aquaman. In my version, Amrit is kissing some man who looks a lot like my version of Bruce Wayne. Take from that what you will. What's important is that J'onn kisses one of his homies.

J'onn's final Sailor Moon transformation not only features the trans and non-binary flag colors because I'm a silly lil' guy, but it's also a nod to the beautiful Joshua Middleton covers for Martian Manhunter 2019. Narratively in that story, J'onn transforms into the form we recognize as his superhero form as a means of self-acceptance into his new identity on Earth.

In our version, J'onn gets a costume change not unlike the gems from Steven Universe getting updated outfits after they reach a new milestone in character development. We wanted J'onn's new outfit to continue his non-conforming slut tradition, just with some of the colors redistributed and J'onn's two yellow circles becoming one.

Narratively, we wanted J'onn to come to terms with his epiphany through Erdel. Erdel contextualizes J'onn's adventure into a humanized experience. For all of J'onn's sci-fi shenanigans, this story is about someone late in their life discovering how much more fluid and vast his identity could be if he gave it a chance. And sometimes you just need a push from a friend! A lot of canon Martian Manhunter stories get so caught up in the sci fi sauce that they forget how stories exist to allegorize something real about us as people.

In canon, before Pearl turns into a giant Martian mecha (yes), she recognizes that the transformation being asked of her is something beyond what's familiarly human to her. It's overwhelming for her, so J'onn informs her that he can just telepathically tell her how to shapeshift into a Martian mecha. She rejects this, saying "No. This. All this. I get it. It's about finding out who you really are." She recalls the human experience of hearing the water in Dubai's harbor and the sun on her face. Things she can never feel again by accepting herself as a Martian. And so she shapeshifts into a giant Martian.

That's ultimately the premise of Epiphany. It's about how J'onn's unique, cosmically horrifying existence dehumanizes him. Accepting who he truly is means he loses something human about himself. And it's a really sad story in that regard.

I think trans feelings can appear like that sometimes. Trans-wondering is like daring to look at some unfathomable cosmic horror and coming to the realization that you're not who you thought you might've been this whole time. It could mean venturing out into something entirely unfamiliar. And when people discover this way later in life, it can feel like giving up everything they currently have to explore something unknown. That's how epiphanies are.

So by reversing New 52 Epiphany, we made it a story about a Martian recognizing something new in himself by transforming into humans. It's confusing and scary, but it's not the end of the world. It's just the start of a new adventure for him. An expansion of who J'onn has always been.

[yazis]

I'M NOT INTERESTED!!

二十 - opening gambit

wc: 1.8k words

note: if u don’t understand chess, just pretend they’re playing monopoly or smth..? 😭 (there’s not too much detail tho). I FEEL LIKE SUCH A NEEK WRITING THIS, also it ended up being a bit longer than i had expected oops

he was staring down at you, face blank and unbothered. it was difficult not to swoon for him there and then. it reminded you of your first encounter with him yesterday...

it was then you cringed at the memory from yesterday, where you had kicked a ball towards the back of his head and nearly died on the spot from sheer embarrassment.

hopefully he doesn't remember, it doesn't seem like he does...

you clearly spoke internally too soon. because you watched as sae's once blank expression soured into one of distaste, his nose scrunching up slightly.

great. he definitely hates me...

"i'm the uh, club president here!" you blurted to try and change the course of whatever he was thinking, "are you.. hear to play chess?", you smiled a little giddy at the thought of new members, especially one as attractive as itoshi sae.

though the longer you looked at his face, the more your hopefulness faded.

who am i kidding? of course he's not here to play chess.

...

unless..?

"i'm looking for someone. they said they go to this club" he said in a monotonous voice, crushing any hopes you had going on in your head. you didn't even attempt to mask the disappointment on your face.

"looking for someone?" you repeated still sulking, raising a brow, "who are you looking for-"

you tensed immediately cutting yourself off. remembering the texts you had with him. the way you had annoyed him, the information you had stupidly dropped...

wait a second.. he's ACTUALLY hunting me down??

your mouth nearly dropped in shock but you covered it up with a few coughs. you didn't even have time to think, panicking once you saw his sharp eyes scanning upon the pitiful number of people in the room and then straight at you.

i need to say something! quick!

"they might not be here yet!" you said quickly, "there are usually more people here, it's just.. no one really decided to show up today.." you lied. on a good day maybe five or six people showed up.

he didn't say anything.

"do you know anything about this particular person..?" you said, trying to sound as calm as possible.

"they're a second year." he said plainly

i told him i was a second year? oh lord-

"oh a second year? haha.. we have A LOT of those round here..." you said playing it cool.

"we do?" you heard a quiet voice whisper in the background.

NOW'S NOT THE TIME ITADORI.

you cleared your throat awkwardly, "a-anyway, you might as well wait here. there's a chance they might turn up late.. most people do that."

"do they..?" you heard yet another voice mutter.

MIDORIYA!

you shot a quick sharp look over your shoulder as itadori and midoriya burst unto a quiet fit of giggles. turning back to face the man of your dreams, you put on an awkward smile.

"you can play chess while you wait?" you said, gesturing to the table you were about to play yourself on from where the two of you still stood by the door.

"it's um.. really fun.." you added on trailing off, wincing at how pathetic and sad you sounded.

you honestly felt a tad bit bad lying to him. being the person he was looking for, it meant that realistically he wasn't really waiting for the person he was looking for to walk through.

then you dwelled on the fact that the question you were asking him. was actually quite pathetic, or at least it made you feel so. especially with the deafening silencing, making you want to shrink back and hide under one of the tables.

heck rin, yoichi and meguru won't even play chess with me... what makes me think itoshi sae will??

you were expecting him to walk out the door any second, maybe with a cold glare as he left the room (giving you a reason to cry yourself to sleep tonight). what you WEREN'T expecting was him to speak up-

"fine."

——————————

and that's how you ended up sitting across from the itoshi sae with a chess board between you two.

don't stress out y/n... you're only playing chess with your husband-to-be. no biggie, no biggie at all...

izuku and itadori had clearly read the room, opting for quiet whispers rather than their usual chattiness whilst they played each other.

meanwhile you shifted awkwardly in your seat, suddenly interested in the material of your skirt as the man sat across you stared down the pieces on the board on the table.

he was white and you were black, meaning he would be making the first move. but judging from the lack of movement on his part, you quickly realised he probably didn't know how to play.

so you looked up.

"um.. do you know how to play-"

he moved one of his centre pawns forward.

"oh." you said. looking down at the board. you were definitely not expecting that.

he knows how to play chess? i think i just fell in love all over again

you had to clear your throat.

"i didn't think football players would know how to play chess if i'm being honest, haha..." you said, moving on of your own pawns forward.

the game started to flow and you could tell with the moves he was playing that he wasn't exactly a beginner. your eyebrows furrowed slightly.

do i go easy on him then..?

you wondered. you'd probably be able to win. despite not having anyone to play for a couple of weeks due to the lack of attendance, you still tried your best to play random strangers online on chess.com. though...

if i beat him.. that'll give him another reason to hate me probably..

you then chuckle to yourself.

but if i beat him, i can assert dominance... hehehe..

as the game carried on silently. a few pieces were exchanged but your mind couldn't help but be distracted, trying to think of things to say, the silence was killing you.

i might never get a chance to speak with him like this, yolo i guess..

after a short while of mental conflict, you eventually spoke up nervously.

"my name's l/n, by the way. y/n l/n."

for the first time since he sat down, his eyes locked with yours. a bored expression on his face, unnerving. you gulped, but held eye contact nonetheless.

he didn't reply, and instead moved his next piece.

ok. i just got aired.

you were entering the midgame, it was around some point during that time that you could hear the defeated noises of itadori losing again. you didn't have to look to know that they were about to play each other for the fifth time.

it was actually a bit frustrating that you weren't winning by as much as you thought you would be in your game against sae, and you showed it with the frown on your features. perhaps you had actually gotten a bit rusty.

in actual fact, it was hard to pay attention to chess in front of you when you had a drop dead gorgeous man in front of you as well. one that seemed to dislike making conversation with you.

which was fine, you'd keep trying.

"how bout we make a bet? you know, to keep things interesting," you said trying to play it cool, your bishop taking his knight.

he looked up at you again. and you really couldn't tell what he was thinking, but you assumed he was intrigued. so you continued.

"if i win, i get your number." you grinned, a new found boldness to win emerging inside of you. sae looked as if ,not that you could see since you were smiling with your eyes closed. well you were until a split second later when you froze and realisation washed over you

wait a second... i already HAVE his number. if i win, WAIT-

"ACTUALLY... i don't want your number, now that i think about it.." you laughed awkwardly, moving one of your pieces without much thought behind it.

"good. i wasn't going to give it to you anyway." he said bluntly, glaring at you ever so slightly. you sighed quietly in relief.

right. that was way too close.. me and my stupid mouth.

"fine. if i win then.. can i get your autograph?" you asked. after all, according to yoichi, sae was quite popular in the football world. you could already picture the autograph pinned on your wall back home in your room.

he said nothing.

well. he didn't say no.

a few more moves were taken.

"and if you lose?" he said, you were mildly surprised he held up the conversation. a small smile made its way to your face at the thought.

'hahaha... me? lose to you?'

is what you wanted to say, but you decided after some thought that that wouldn't end up well for you. besides-

"check." he said, moving his queen forward, finding an opening that you were unaware of.

you frowned, you were hoping to get the first check yourself. having no choice but to move your king along a square, you did just that.

"um.. well if i lose. i guess i can help you find that person you're looking for." you offered, "i'm also a second year."

and then i'd get to spend more time with him.. without him knowing i'm the person he's looking for! it's a win win for me!

wait.

your mouth then formed a tight straight line as you realised you had just dropped the fact that you were a second year. you slowly looked down to avoid eye contact.

you'd like to think that sae didn't take note of the way you suddenly went quiet. but with your eyes glued down at the chess board, you failed to notice the way his eyes, narrowed, lingered on you for a second longer before too looking down at the table.

——————————

it wasn't until around fifteen minutes later when the endgame arrived. the two of you were down to your last pieces.

at that point you weren't really focused on the game, not anymore at least.

you found yourself prolonging the quick glances you were giving sae earlier, longing stares instead were sent his way.

clearly you were too busy checking him out, because before you knew it...

"checkmate."

you blinked. his deep voice breaking you out of your trance as you casted your eyes away from his and down at the board in front of you.

"eh?"

surely enough, he had used his rook and queen and cornered you in checkmate.

you were completely stunned, looking down in disbelief and widened eyes.

two overdramatic gasps could be heard in the background, accompanied with some not so discreet whispers.

"no way..."

"he beat l/n..?"

"but l/n never loses!"

you ignored them, of course. when you finally found your voice-

"I LOST!?"

prev | masterlist | next

SUMMARY: in which 2nd-year y/n l/n one day turns up at their high school and falls heads over heels with a certain 3rd-year, one who has a strict ‘no-dating’ policy.

taglist i: @bluerskiees @ilovechuuyaa @bloombb @silly-ez @urdesaintess @hugs4shizu @saeswifeeee @kiopanxp @azharyy @winterpein @sarah-saystuff @krnsluvvie @biaonww @morgyyyyyyy @simpingmyassoff @aerisevx @giasssslife @tamimemo @unknown-lab @90s-belladonna @localgirlywithnolife @purriodsblog @shokiren @yxruxp @lumiambrose @mizukiblogs @cayl33n @riwliane @rottingvxmpire @megumifushigurooo @ellebasy-sabrinaa @swagkittybear @unknown-lab @bubybubsters @nevvynev @mrsitoshiss @cielcho @lotusofia @matchablossomsss @chuurinnie @cheriiepies @sus0daddy @randomhumans-blog @megumismyhusband @kaidostwin @ysvanielle @f1zzyecola @realrintaro @kyeeeeeeeweeeeeeewi @kaz-0e

[alwaysless]

Just a few more words about Duke's behavior

This man definitely has trouble reading social cues and the emotional atmosphere in the room. Duke often gets carried away and he himself does not understand when its time to knock it off. It would never occur to him that he was going too far unless his friends told him so. At the same time he usually doesn't even have really bad intentions. The most striking example of this behavior is that one scene in the maze, when he literally threatens to break Lenore's arm, hoping to provoke her manifesting. It sounds like a big red flag now that I think about it. However Lenore very quickly explains to him where he crossed the line – the girl has no problems standing for herself. Duke immediately backs off and says he wouldn't really hurt her. Tbh I believe him here, he no longer plays with fire when it comes to Lenore.

But Pluto is a different case. Where Lenore dot all the "I" at the first opportunity and gives a well-deserved kick in the ass, Pluto tolerates all teasing and taunts. Meanwhile again in the maze Duke is literally trying to push him into the abyss. As a joke, of course. That's a great joke, Duke, bravo. I can't even imagine why Pluto isn't laughing. And yet Pluto does not stop him. He patiently endures ridicule over his numerous fears, and grumbling that he did not share his knowledge of etymology in time, and indignation that he got his spectre too late, and teasing for having a crush on Eulalie. Sure, Duke and Pluto barely knew each other in the maze but that's exactly why this behavior is Pluto's first impression of Duke. Of course he thinks that the guy who teased him about anything is going to tease him about his scar as well!

Yes, Pluto expresses both embarrassment and displeasure but he never clearly tells Duke to stop. This is a delicate moment: on the one hand Pluto doesn't have to voice everything that makes him uncomfortable – Duke is an adult boy, he must understand when he crosses the border. But on the other hand, we already found out at the beginning that he doesn't understand. He needs to be told, literally thrown in his face what he is wrong about. Even Morella does this once when Duke tries to distract her from uneasy conversation with Lenore. But Pluto didn't. Pluto endures.

Until he snapped back after almost drowning.

He's hurt, scared, he almost died, he has no idea if the rest of the group is okay. And Duke, with his cheeky jokes and cocky fearlessness, doesn't help the situation at all. Therefore Pluto throws out everything that has accumulated because there is no more room in his cup of patience. Sure Pluto has every reason to be angry. We understand that. But does Duke understand that? It came out of the blue for him: he saved Pluto, he apologized, he tried to cheer him and Eulalie up all the way so that they wouldn't lose heart in a difficult situation. What is Pluto unhappy about?

Here I would like to draw a parallel with a rather unexpected duet in this context: Ada and Prospero.

We all know how much Ada annoyed Prospero with her flirt. We all know how she shamelessly imposed herself on him and ignored his boundaries that he tried in vain to defend. For us readers Prospero's discomfort and disgust were obvious. But not for Ada. She read all the hints he gave her as embarrassment and timidity because that's what Annabel told her. Let's be honest: Prospero never directly rejected Ada. On the contrary in a sense Prospero encouraged her feelings: I remind you that the scene in which he gallantly gives her his hand and calls Ada "my lady" still exists. It still doesn't make sense. Literally A FRAME LATER Prospero says her don't touch him. Dude?? You give her your hand yourself???

When Prospero snaps at her after the mansion for us his breakdown is understandable and justified – but it seems cruel and unfair for Ada. After all Annabel had said he liked her. After all he himself was so gallant and courteous to her. After all he had been tolerating her flirting all this time – what had gone wrong?

Both Ada and Duke behaved in a certain way and nothing in their behavior changed – but for some reason Prospero and Pluto`s reaction changed. Why are they suddenly angry? After all everything was fine.

Absolutely nothing was fine. It's just that both Pluto and Prospero are emotionally closed introverts who couldn't express their discomfort in time as bluntly as possible. And Duke and Ada are too self-absorbed to notice someone else's discontent until it explodes in their face. As a result EVERYONE is unhappy and offended.

[offdxty]

The longer they sit there, with Harrow working on Kane's bruises - applying ointment, using gentle touches to massage it in, sticking a heating pad on top of it right after to soothe the pain, help with the tense muscles - the more... emotional it gets, in a way that's hard to explain.

Listening to the other talk about it, what he went through - being so open about it - feels incredibly intimate, a bond being created between the two; How much of this is happening out of free will, though? Kane, not-Kane, it, can hear it within that gentle voice, the way it drags out a bit longer than usual, turning fuzzy at the edges.

And the more it happens, the more something inside Kane wants to protest - no, not against the other, never against him, but rather against the cruetly of what this is. Harrow is obviously affected by that drug, and perhaps he wouldn't even allow this kind of vulnerability to show if he were in full control of himself; It's dehumanizing in its very own way, exposing and violating, causing bile to rise within a sore throat once more.

Kane, not-Kane, it, wants to take it all away from that man who's so nice and kind to him, who cares so much that he brought all of these balms and ointments with him, just to try and help Kane feeling more comfortable within his own body. He wished he could do something in return, could give him an antidote to that sedative that seems to make it hard for Harrow to think, to focus, to... keep quiet about what he does not want to say.

Lips are pressed together as Kane swallows against the bile, his eyes back on that man so close to him, focused on his face as the minutes pass - not looking away, not yet, but allowing deep brown irises to linger instead, to take it all in.

I’ll make sure you don’t feel it again, even if we have to…

Dangerous, very, very dangerous. Kane might not know where exactly he is, but he's long since realized what this is about. He knows he's being researched on, because he's not human - he looks like a man who went into the shimmer, but isn't. He looks like the man who set himself on fire and died - carries his face like a badge, the one that once belonged to a good soldier, a good person who'd tried to find a solution to a problem that had threatened mankind.

Kane, not-Kane, it, is a remnant of said threat. He is the shimmer while not being the shimmer at the same time. He is Kane but he is not - and it fascinates them, scares them, makes them want to dissect and study so as to try and gain knowledge while protecting themselves at the same time.

What Harrow suggests here - if Kane's picking up on it correctly - could be taken as a direct break of rules, one that might even be more severe than what they've done before. A blink, a gaze finally flicking up and away to glare at that camera instead that hovers above them, sitting in the upper corner of a wall...

A second passes, then that gaze returns to Harrow, looking at him for the millionth time tonight. Just looking, looking, looking - observing, taking in the sight.

The tea is taken, so are the pills. A swallow later and they're down his throat, existing somewhere within his stomach, before a sip of tea follows...

---Chamomile, something else. Warm, comfortable, soft, caring.

Kane wants to cry all of a sudden, but he doesn't. He takes another sip of tea instead.

"...I think he felt pain quite often, back when he..." Kane's voice is quiet as he speaks, barely above a whisper - he pauses briefly, taking one more sip, before he blinks - eyes on the man once more, unable to look away for too long. "...When he was a soldier. I think... I think he ended up being injured a few times. ---I also think his head hurt a lot. Not because it was injured as well, but... just like that. It just hurt."

A soft inhale, an even softer exhale, that arm around Harrow's shoulder shifting a bit - just so that the attached hand can find its place on the other's upper back where those fingers splay again, holding, feeling. Self-indulgent, perhaps.

"...I'm very grateful that you have... survived." Even though Kane is still struggling with the fact that Harrow might not have spoken about it freely - his past - he... still wants to say something to it. Wants to acknowledge it, and... offer his own feelings.

He swallows, then nods.

"Because if you wouldn't have... you wouldn't be here, either. ---I would be... alone. Lost and alone."

Arthur’s fingers stayed steady, despite the way Kane’s lashes fluttered, the way that arm curled so gently around his shoulder. The weight of it was warm, human - it was trusting, again striking at something sharp and deep in him, something that he hadn’t looked at in years. 

He applied the ointment in smooth, slow circles, letting the salve do its work. It was good at what it did, he knew it was - it was the same thing he used on his leg, when he felt like treating himself in any kind of way. A rarity, but something he sometimes did - an action that caused guilt, anger over himself for believing he deserved living without pain. 

His thoughts were drifting, again. He pulled them back on track, getting another small bit of the ointment and pressing it gently into the next bruise. It was just in time for the question, another moment where Arthur wondered if Kane could somehow hear his thoughts; his eyes sparkled softly in amusement. 

He didn’t mind it, almost, if the alien did have a way to peek in his head. He trusted Kane with his thoughts. 

Arthur hadn’t paused at the question, but he didn’t immediately reply. He reached for a patch, instead, peeling off the adhesive back and pressing it gently to the man’s skin; it covered this first bruise, protecting it. 

It would warm up after just a bit, offering more relief; he left it, moving on to the next. 

Gentle fingers began working salve into that next bruise, still focused on the ones that weren’t quite as severe; working his way up, slowly, moving over his form. 

“Yes,” he answered; his voice was slow. It wasn’t something he would normally talk about - he wouldn’t be talking about it now, were it not for the drug making the ache of memory fade. “I felt it.” 

His voice was slow, like it had to travel through something before it could exit him. He gave another breath, his fingers continuing to gently work; he was slow, he was gentle. “I was living in a small village. We were raided - they thought we were hiding rebels. It was a really… tense time, in that area. We weren’t doing anything wrong, but…” he trailed off, gave a shrug. “Some people don’t care about that.” 

Six hadn’t cared about that. People who cared for power often lacked in caring about other people - likely because to love one meant the loss of the other. Six didn’t have a good heart, not in any way - every bruise was proof of that. 

The sight of it was close enough for the thoughts to all bleed together, for past to mix with present. Once again, he found himself holding someone he cared about, doing his best to take care of him, while knowing deep down that death was on the table. 

They’d kill Kane, here. He knew that. And now, there was nothing keeping his mind from slipping into that thought. 

He shook his head a bit, again pushing his thoughts back on track. “The pain wasn’t the worst part of it. The pain sticks, my leg… it feels a lot like this.” Maybe worse, maybe not. He was used to it. It didn’t matter, in the same extreme of it mattering more than anything else; nothing had defined his life more than that one night. 

His fingers moved carefully, grabbing another patch, pressing it gently over the next bruise. He moved onto one of the worse ones, next, one of the ones laced over the man’s ribs; he opened up the other containers because of it. The one meant for deeper aches, one he could mix with the first. 

“It’ll fade,” he promised. “The pain. And I’ll make sure you don’t feel it again, even if we have to… hm.” He didn’t need to say that. Even if he put together a solid plan for how they could escape, he couldn’t say it out loud. 

He shouldn’t’ve said any of that out loud. 

“Sorry,” he loosely apologized, briefly rubbing one wrist over his face. “I’m not thinking as clearly as normal. Take two of the pills, here - drink the tea with it.” 

He leaned over just enough to grab the tea off of the floor, using his non-dirtied hand; he held it out to the man, allowing him to take it before he returned to the bruise. “Do you remember what Kane took them for?” 

[theoats99]

Remmick falls into your life like a bird hitting your window, stumbling onto the porch looking beaten and bloody begging for salvation, and when you give it and let him inside even going as far as to get a rag wet for him, dabbing it along wounds that seem to heal as you wipe the still drying blood away something in him shifts. He for whatever reason in his head decides not to ripe your throat out, not swallow your life till your pretty body is limp.

You tell the strange man that he can stay as long as he needs, that he needs to rest his injured body, but that's something you even begin doubting as you watch the scrapes on his arms begin to close. After that though he never leaves, for weeks he lingers around the your old Mississippi home, closing himself into your closet with an unspoken truth of what he really is, you never ask, and he never tells but you know what he is, and he's aware of you knowing as well. He's something dark and twisted, something dangerous even, but you find all those stories hard to believe. Because when the sun goes down and he leaves the confines of the small closet he's nothing but helpful.

Remmick helps outside in the garden, following your instructions to the letter, he cleans the house when your gone, leaving your home the cleanest it's been since you'd moved to Delta. He follows you everywhere like a shadow, always asking what he can do to help you, always wanting to know what your doing, always there. At first it had been disarming, having the man, the creature, so close to you all the time but after a few weeks it became more reassuring. Suddenly the home felt safe, the critters that usually destroyed your garden were no more, and even your chickens weren't being killed as much as they had been.

It's two months into him living with you, your in town, having just finished selling your eggs and harvest from the garden, in one of the fabric shops. The idea had been lingering for quite some time, the idea of getting something dark, so dark that the sun itself wouldn't be able to break through it. When your eyes land on the black fabric you feel giddy, grabbing so much of it the clerk raises her brow at you, but checks you out none the less. At home you begin your work, sewing together the fabric , layer after layer onto of each other holding it to the kitchen window to test it.

It blocks the rays completely, casting the room into darkness. You sit in front of the closet door, giddy as you wait for him to exit it as the sun begins to set leaving the sky orange outside the window. The door creaks open and you rush to your feet, greeting him with a smile.

"Good mornin' darlin'." He drawls out, smirk settling on his face.

"Morning, I'm glad your up, I really need your help with something." You tell him, smile still plastered on your face. He cocks his head as you move quickly to the bedroom, he follows you watching intently as you grab the new pitch black curtains from the bed. "I got these new curtains, I need to help getting them up if you'd be so kind." You look back at him, he walks over to you eyeing the new fabric before studying your face.

"Sugar, with these things up you'd swelter in here." He tries, concern for you evident on his face, you just wave your hand at him, dismissing his concerns.

"Maybe." You say, watching as he still does as you asked, taking the old curtains down before going over to you to take the new ones out of your hands. "But they'll be perfect for you." He stops in front of you, eyeing meeting yours. He's studying your every move, every breathe, twitch in your face, blink of your eyes.

"I mean, it's just your sleeping in that poor closet. It feels so inhumane, and I'd been thinking of this for a couple days now, you've been helping me so much and I just think you deserve a bed to sleep in." His eyes are wide as they look into your own, something in them glimmers but it doesn't frighten you.

"What are you sayin' darlin'?" His voice is low, a whisper.

"I'm sayin' I want you to sleep in here from now on." Your voice is firm, saying the request more like it's a demand, the effect it has on him is immediate. His breathe hitches, his pupils go wide, the color in his eyes changes for a moment, flickering between something darker than the pretty baby blues you'd grown so attached to.

Without another word he takes the new curtains and gets them up, straightening them out leaving the room in complete darkness. You blink trying to get your eyes to adapt to the darkness but you still can't make out anything, or at least until you see the faint red glow a couple feet in front of you. Two little red dots, and you don't have to think to hard to know it's him, especially as the dots get closer to you.

They're right in front of you know, and you feel his fingers graze the sides of your arms, nails dragging on the exposed skin of your arms, your own breathe hitches. "Yer so kind darlin', so sweet it almost hurts." He says, you look back into the red in front of you, your heart beating in your ears, sounding like horse hooves against ground.

Without another thought you raise your hands, shakily you find purchase on his face, palms scrapping against the short stubble that always rests on his face, those red dots disappear then, followed by a sound you don't really know how to describe. His hands drop to your waist, gently resting there like he's scared to touch you, scared he'll hurt you.

Your fingers dig into the cool flesh of his jaw, dragging his face closer your own, and before you loose the courage you connect his lips to your. His reaction is immediate, hands tightening around your waist, growl ripping it's way from something deep inside of him, pushing himself so close to you theirs no space left between the two of you. He kisses you harsh, desperately, like a drowning man breathing in air for the first time.

Nothing more happens, not that night at least, he just kisses you. And that night as you nestle into bed he's there next to you. The heat doesn't matter as much when he's there, his cool skin clinging onto your own as he holds you like something sacred.

[dreamsteddie]

Stretch Zone

Part Four - Part One

Here's a shorter chapter for you guys! We get a little peek into Steve's mind. More flirting and shenanigans incoming, I promise.

Divider - @steddiecameraroll-graphics

What the fuck was that? Steve thinks to himself when he gets home. Robin isn’t home, out with some study group that Steve is definitely not jealous of, that would be ridiculous.

Steve hasn’t dated anyone, or even really looked at anyone, in a little over a year. A myriad of failed dates, stifled relationships, and harsh breakups enough to make even the most confident guy lose hope.

Eddie, because Steve knows his name now, thanks to some good old fashioned first aid protocols, should not be on Steve’s radar. 

First of all, almost all the people he’s dated in his adult life have been women. It’s not that he doesn’t know he likes men, or that he hasn’t gone steady with a few, but men don’t tend to go after him, and Steve has rarely felt the need to go after a man himself. He’s always been more than content with soft curves and soft hands, and if he’s really lucky, a willingness to try a strap every now and then.

Secondly, from what Steve can tell, Eddie doesn’t seem to be anything like the people he’s hated before. It’s hard to tell with so little interaction, but his shirts always have crazy logos he doesn’t understand but thinks are from bands, he doesn’t seem to have any experience with organized exercise, and he’s, for lack of a better word, a little scrungly. Twitchy, intense, awkward, but sweet. Nothing like the preps and jocks Steve has seen in the past. Honestly, if Robin wasn’t so down bad he would probably be hal in love with Chirssy himself.

And third and most importantly of all, Steve has very firmly had his blinders up for almost a year now. He hasn’t looked at anyone since his last breakup, and as lonely as it can get sometimes, it’s been a good year of focusing on himself. 

He’s well aware that he has a tendency to get caught up in relationships too early. Robin calls it his “loverboy tendencies” that make him blind to red flags and susceptible to playing into what people expect from without considering what he wants. People tend to place certain expectations on him. Robin says it’s his resting bitch face and tendency to stand with his arms crossed, but people expect him to be cooler, more aloof, harder to get.

But the truth is, he’s always been easy. The first to lean in, the first to fall, the first to say I love you, the only one with a broken heart at the end of it all. One the initial flirting is done and Steve starts letting out the bad jokes and sing-along road trips, things quickly go down the drain. 

So he’s taking a break. No dates, no flirting, turning down every option that comes his way no matter how blatant they are about their interest.

Robin says it’s demeaning to others and himself to relegate people to “types” and Steve has never tried to argue the point, but it’s also worth mentioning that, from what Steve can tell, Eddie is nothing like the people he’s dated before.

Maybe that’s what draws Steve's eye.

It’s not like he’s been paying that much attention to the guy, but he’s sparked a glacing curiosity as the first few weeks of class have gone by. He knows the guy is usually set up behind him, arriving before Steve to set up in the back row. After the first class, the guy seemed to get the memo that a hair tie was going to be necessary, so he’s usually got his hair up in some kind of half-hazard ponytail/bun thing. Again, cute, in a rat kind of way, but not his usual demographic.

And then, of course, there’s the staring.

Steve’s not trying to be conceited, but people have been staring at him since the braces came off in 7th grade. He knows he’s handsome, and stares are pretty common. He doesn’t mind, the attention usually feels good. He puts a lot of effort into his appearance and it’s nice to have it appreciated.

Again, not trying to be conceited, but he wasn’t even entirely sure who was doing the staring for those first couple of classes, just felt the familiar tingle of eyes at his back. A year ago he would have sought out the source, but these days he’s happy not to test his luck.

And then there was a thump on the floor, some light bruising, and the most beautiful set of brown eyes he’s ever seen inches from his own face. The now familiar feeling of those eyes watching him walk away.

He needs to talk to Robin ASAP.

But since she’s not home yet, now is a perfect plan to start some more plotting. Just because he’s got brown eyes and frizzy curls on the brain, doesn’t mean he’s forgotten his ultimate goal here. 

It’s high time Robin got that date. 

—---

Phase one actually involves careful use of the phone number Chrissy gave Steve when he first started out.

He feels a little weird about it, but he justifies it by reminding himself that he isn’t interested in Chrissy, Robin is. Anything in the name of love.

He’s already 97% sure Chrissy is interested in Robin, he just needs to seal the deal, and maybe plant a couple of seeds.

Steve: Hey Chrissy, this is Steve from yoga

Steve: Sorry if this is weird, but Robin isn’t feeling too well. Would you be cool to send her the low down on class if I send you her number?

It’s not strictly true. Robin is taking a planned and mandatory solo mental health day. In an effort to get Steve into therapy after their tumultuous — read: deeply horrifying and traumatizing — teen years, she had agreed to go as well. Now they each have scheduled days off once a month where they get away from their day to day lives to “recharge” and “recenter.” She was definitely missing class, and it was definitely for her wellness, but sick she was not.

He waited a couple minutes, switching on the TV and grabbing a strawberry kefir from the fridge, before he got four responses in quick succession.

Chrissy (Yoga): Oh no! 💔

Chrissy (Yoga): Of course, I don’t mind!!

Chrissy (Yoga): I noticed she wasn’t in class, I was a little worried 😥 she usually doesn’t skip.

Chrissy (Yoga): let me know if I can get you guys anything! I’m around and can bring supplies by if u need 💪

She really was as nice as Robin made her out to be, and Steve was ready to up that 97% to a solid 99.9%. No one was that nice to random people from class unless they were interested.

Time to plant the seed.

Steve: Robin was right, you are really nice 🙂

Steve: But that’s alright, I think we got it handled. I’ll let you know if anything changes tho. Here’s her number. See you in class Thursday!

Chrissy (Yoga): Sounds good 👍

Chrissy (Yoga): Let me know if anything changes! See u in class 🧘

Steve: Will do. Btw Rob is turned in for the night so you might not hear back until tomorrow.

Chrissy sends one last string of emojis that Steve takes as his que to end of the conversation. He schedules a message to send to Robin in the morning when he knows she’ll be freaking out.

Job done, he puts his own phone to sleep and settles in. He thinks he’s earned a little tlc. Being this good is hard.

Tag List:

@aroseandherthorns @child-of-cuthulu @lumoschildextra @warlordess @zzzzesty @watermelonmite @ignoretenderness @pretend-theres-a-name-here @waelkyring @irishbeings @dontslayfay @depressed-andobsessed @exasperatedsighohmy @imacowboy3 @that-one-gay-crow @stranger-things-yapper @wheneverfeasible

[yourch1ld]

Show On YouTube

what about: you literally came to a gay YouTube show looking for a partner

additional tags: john price × male reader, fluff, cod

a/n: I apologize again (know that's too many "sorry" from me), I'm trying to get into university, as well as looking for a job, having problems with family and writing this fic during russian bombing my city....anyway, I don't want sympathy, it's just MY note in MY post, I'll try to post the next fic much sooner, so thx everyone for support!!

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

It was just your usual day until you came across an application form for some kind of YouTube video experiment. The idea was that 20 random gay guys would be in one dark room looking for a partner. Since you were a lonely houseplant of a person, you still decided to at least try and send in the application.

And like a miracle, that very evening they called and said the filming would take place in a few days.

Time passed fast enough to get straight to the beginning of the event. You were nervous... a little... okay, not a little. The organizers of the experiment asked everyone to be as much themselves as possible, so the participants could find a match.

When all of you were let into the room, it was dark, but you walked along the wall and somehow ended up near a group of men who were talking, and you just nodded along until a voice from the speakers said: “Raise your hand if you’ve already found someone attractive.” Most raised their hands, but not you.

The next words were: “In the next 5 minutes you can leave, if you realize there’s no one here you might match with.”

Your slightly hunched body pressed against the wall, you heard the others chatting, but not you, you were apart from everyone. You were already deciding to leave when some man came closer — or rather, you felt his breath and the smell of cigarettes.

“Oh, hey boy, I think I can feel your breath on my chest through my shirt... I’m John.” – said the man in his hoarse but somehow warm voice – “Can I touch you, yeah?” – John reached out and touched your shoulder, just to understand where you were.

“I... Y/N...” – you didn’t know what to say, because you were already nervous, and this man, John, had completely ruined your plan to leave the show.

“You’re trembling, are you alright? Or just nervous...? I’m not as rough as I sound, I promise...” – his voice made you feel like melting and somehow at ease in the moment, especially when he gave a soft chuckle.

“Yeah, sorry, I’m a bit nervous... what do you do, or what do you like to do?” – you asked this more calmly, still feeling a surge of energy from the man next to you. You couldn’t see his face, but he already seemed kind and sweet just by his voice.

“I’m military, well, ex-military. I guess I’m just looking for someone to simply be close to.”

“Oh, I get what you mean. I’m looking for someone like that too.”

Suddenly a voice said: “If you’re already interested in someone, take their hand.” John hesitated for a second before gently taking your hands in his rough palms.

“Hope you don’t mind...” – said John a bit softer as he leaned just a little closer to your ear to say it.

The lights turned on. You both saw each other’s faces. Seeing yours, Price gave a soft smile — to him, you looked even more beautiful now. His blue eyes seemed to pierce right through you. Everyone stepped back to the wall, you and John did too. He gently held your hand and lightly stroked the back of it with his thumb.

You looked around and saw many other attractive men with other attractive men... but it felt more comfortable and somehow more interesting with John. A few pairs were asked to step into the center and say something to each other...

“So Y/N, I didn’t get to talk to you much, but would you want to continue...” – during all this time, you heard how John's voice was trembling just a little.

“I think you’re interesting too, John... would you like to go on a date?” – you said this more bravely than usual, surprising yourself with your words.

“Of course I would!” – John replied with a bear-like smile.

The man took your hand and led you to the exit of the studio, where they recorded a short interview with you, lasting about two minutes, and then you were free... John invited you to get in his car, and of course, you got in. Though it was strange to go somewhere with a man you’d only known for five minutes.

It looked like he was taking you on a date — which, of course, should’ve been the other way around since you were the one who asked him — but a few moments later you arrived at a quiet part of the waterfront, a bit away from the city, and it was beautiful. He leaned against the hood and took your hand to pull you gently toward him.

“Sorry, I’m just really excited, you’re just too cute to be real...” – his voice trembled again a bit as he rested his head on your shoulder and held you close.

From where you stood, the view was amazing, especially because it was evening and the orange sunset was stunning — its rays kissing the water.

[towasdandelion]

Hi!! So, I was just wondering if I could request something? The prompt ahead is a bit angsty, so if you don’t wanna do it, you don’t have to!

———————————————————————————

Basically, how would the ghouls react if MC wanted to break up with them? Also, what be her reason to do so? I had some fluffy ideas, but then for some reason I wanted angst more :p Again, you don’t have to do it if you don’t wanna! But if you do, could you add Lucas, Kaito, Zenji, Towa, Haru, and Haku? I don’t know if you do specific character requests and that might be a bit much, so you can just choose a few from that list! Okay, bye now!!!

Hii! Sorry it takes a while for me to get the requests done recently (⁠^⁠～⁠^⁠;⁠)⁠ゞ Angst you say? This is pretty sad (⁠´⁠ ⁠.⁠ ⁠.̫⁠ ⁠.⁠ ⁠`⁠) Also yeah I do specific characters, and six is usually the limit! Anyways I hope you'll like it!

A few things:

I think breaking up over text is rather tactless but since I'm doing smaus let's just say the MC had trouble reaching them lately and not wanting to hide her feelings from them any longer, decides to first inform them through a text.

The reasons might not seem like much, but I feel like when things like that build up over time without being resolved (which MC tried, you wouldn't break up with them just like that would you (⁠´⁠ ⁠.⁠ ⁠.̫⁠ ⁠.⁠ ⁠`⁠) ) they can feel really heavy.

Also this kinda turned out longer than expected oops.

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

𝑩𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒖𝒑 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

Featuring: Lucas, Kaito, Towa, Haru, Haku, Zenji

Lucas is doting. Always making sure you're alright, that you're safe and sound. At first, you appreciated someone checking on you like that. You could feel loved and cared for. But as the time went by, it started to feel a bit.. overbearing. You were doing everything in your power to live your life to the fullest even with the curse, but Luca worried. Always worried. When you can't take it anymore, he's a bit taken aback. He needs a moment to process your words and sadly, he has to admit there's something in it. He didn't even notice when things started to look this way. His intention was never to smother you with his care after all. As much as he'd want to, he won't try pressuring you into staying, instead giving you some time to consider everything once again. All he wishes for is a conversation in person. Of course he's sad and heartbroken. But you always come first...

Kaito is just a little insecure, right? Some complaints and whines here and there, comparing himself to others. With time, you found yourself feeling drained by his constant need of reassurance... You loved him, of course. But at this point, being by his side felt like someone was slowly sucking out the positive energy out of you. You probably already guessed, but he's not going to take the news very well. What do you mean too much? Eveyrone needs some reassurance from time to time, right? His realization comes with time. For now, he finds it hard to understand. He supports you and you support him. Why do you want to ruin that? Might actually beg you not to leave him. Sit him down and have a calm talk with him. It will help.

Towa's clingy way of being was something you always found cute about him. He always wanted to be next to you! And whenever he was, he was either holding you hand, clinging to your arm or just straight up tackle you with his hugs. It really was endearing, but his whiny side whenever you had to leave was starting to get to you, ultimately becoming your reason to break up with him. Like Kaito, he's not going to understand. And worse, he won't let go of you easily. Don't you like to feel loved, Dandelion? Why do you suddenly not want his closeness? And most importantly, why would you want break up just because of it? It will take a good while and a lot of conversations with Haru for him to understand properly. But even then, he still can't stand the situation he found himself in.

Haru is a busy man. His organization and hard work were admirable. You also found it cute how he would sometimes rope you into work when he didn't have time for a proper date. Unfortunately though, the situation started to repeat very often, with him calling you over mostly to help him with his workload... which led to your break up in the end. What's the point of being with someone if they don't even make time for you? Haru realizes his mistake the moment you point it out. He lost himself in his work so much that he ended up treating you like just another pair of helping hands, and he hates himself for it. As much as it hurts he won't hold a grudge against you, even if his actions were unintentional. He will leave you alone for the time being, taking this time to reflect on his actions before even asking you to meet you.

Haku always found a way to tease and rile you up. He relished in the feeling of being the one making you squirm under his gaze alone. But somewhere along the way, you started to doubt his intentions.. His teasing was relentless at times, not giving up until he gets the reaction he wanted, forgetting about how you feel in the process. With heavy heart, you decided to end this. Haku is caught off guard. Break up, really? Just because he loves teasing you? Something is not right. It's not until you explain it to him properly that he finally understands what went wrong. He made you feel like this relationship was just a game, and he can't help but feel disappointed with himself. He took it too far and now he needs to face it. Might try to get you to talk it out first, but then decides to simply give you some time. Maybe you'll change your mind? Maybe all you need is a conversation heart to heart.

Being with Zenji meant being on a lookout for inspiration more often than not, and getting used to his somewhat cryptic way of speaking that sometimes happened. You always enjoyed helping him, or even being the source of inspiration itself. But as time passed, you couldn't help but feel the pressure whenever he fretted over lack of ideas for the next part of his story. It's like he got stuck on one thing, and refused to do anything else until he found the perfect words. As much as you loved him, you couldn't stand it anymore. Zenji wasn't expecting this, but it successfully snaps him out of this weird trance. He's almost crushed by this wave of sadness. How could he lose himself like this? Writing and playing are things he loves the most, but none of this matters if you aren't by his side. He won't try to change your mind forcibly if that's what you really want, but at least let him talk to you in person.

[housemdork]

house md rewatch: 3x03, "informed consent"

there are few moments in seasons 1-3 that are as important as this one ^

"informed consent" flying at the heels of "cane and able" is SO good because, in part, it ratifies some of what i was saying about house and his mounting hypocrisy/ill-spirit this season, but also because 3x03 grounds us back in medical ethics debates after a slew of strictly character-oriented stories. cuddy and wilson taking a backseat throughout kinda feels like penance for the tomfoolery of 3x02 lol.

3x03 opens with the revelation that 1) house is back to using his cane full time; and 2) there is, in fact, a doctor out there whom house admires - dr. ezra powell, a gentle old man who conducted brutal medical experiments on babies to seek out more advanced cancer treatments. we don't know about that detail until the halfway-ish point of the episode, but that makes the mounting parallels between ezra and house even more interesting in retrospect.

throughout the episode, house projects his "push through the pain" mentality onto ezra, even before he learns that ezra would ultimately prefer to die than continue to living with increasing illness. this is, ofc, very consistent for house, as his patients' survival usually depends on either their acquiescence to house's craziness or his rejection of medical ethics. all-in-a-day's work type beat.

but 3x03 complicates this a bit! cameron makes the note in the intro scene to chase and foreman that she "figured that house might go back to the pills," but the cane means he's effectively back to square one. house's relapse is the season's biggest secret so far, and, for the first time, compromises our sympathy and understanding towards him. he's so relentless to ezra about pushing through the literal fluid drowning him in his lungs; meanwhile, he's fighting the pain resurgence with some added help.

necessary disclaimer: i'm not referring to house's addiction with the same language that i'd typically use; he is, indeed, suffering from a medical condition because of his dependence. i'm just replicating what i think the episode/season is telling us to chew on.

this revelation goes so far as to re-contextualize how we've seen him treat all other patients thus far. he frequently asks them to undergo the impossible with no additional "help."

the most interesting bit of the episode is obviously how the team grapples with, or refuses to grapple with, ezra's "choice" to die. i'll start with house first. i love how house's understanding of/relationship to assisted suicide transforms across the series, slow though that transformation may be. as of 3x03, assisted suicide represents personal failure in house's view. the request means that he failed to solve the puzzle and that the patient couldn't see their life through, which is the same kind of weakness he demands they push through.

this also complicates what i continue to argue about house - that his doctoring on its own proves that he loves. this is clearly informed by my own political views, but i veer toward agreeing with assisted suicide, and i think it's cruel to persist when a patient's suffering is too much to bear. ergo, i find house's preservation of life at all costs here hard to stomach. this is an interesting moment of ANTI comradery between a patient who wants to die and a character who canonically has had a similar dilemma re: 2x24. i like how ezra and house oppose the patient dynamic we saw way back when in 1x14, where house could see that sarah really did want to live.

with that in mind, there is another element of hypocrisy at play in house's ethos here. he rejects relating to ezra's feelings (which, by the text of the show, he should at least a little bit) in order to solve the puzzle. that the end of the show confirms that ezra's patient was basically for nothing but the solution drives this point home for me.

i wouldn't be me if i didn't spend too much time on the conversation between house and wilson (who's having an otherwise "i, too, am in this episode" episode in 3x03). plus he looks really pretty.

wilson: "he's not asking you to help kill himself. he's just asking for help. the disease will kill him."

house: "i know what he was asking for. i just said no."

wilson: "you've done it before. plenty of times."

house: "to patients who i knew were terminal."

wilson: "oh, give me a break. this has nothing to do with saving a life."

wilson is right here - house is forgoing human decency to solve the puzzle (skipping over the part about medical legality/ethics because house already couldn't care less and wilson knows this). and he has shown this kindness to terminal patients because the answer is, in house's win/lose mentality, meaningless. this episode really is doing a number on my doctoring = loving argument, but i'm not abandoning it at the first sign of resistance!

[but if you'll let me break my containment rule, i love how this dilemma between them sets the stage for 6x07 and 8x18-8x22 (don't get on me about what was planned or what wasn't. they clearly had a foundation to reference, intentional or not). house is perplexed by wilson's argument for assisted suicide at the conference in 6x07, and insists that his belief in it is a symptom of wilson himself feeling like a personal failure. this "personal failure" mindset keeps house at a distance from the terminal patients granted that kindness/dignity in death (dignity that house doesn't even believe in). terminality is okay from a distance in this ethical qualm for house.

so when there is no distance in wilson's terminality, when it demands to be dealt with in the most personal terms for house, this ethos collapses in the best, most emotionally traumatizing way possible. we love to see it!]

3x03 also, and arguably more interestingly, investigates what convictions and beliefs mean to each of the fellows, with particular emphasis on cameron. in the scene after cameron excuses herself from the case (for the time being), chase and foreman muse about her reasons why. sarcastically, chase says that she's doing "what she believes in," which foreman disputes: "all she's doing is running away from the principle so she won't have to feel uncomfortable facing it.

i agree! which makes chase's secondary retort all the more interesting: to foreman, "if you were acting on principle, you would've called the cops when you thought house was killing the guy."

i like this line for 2 reasons: first, it highlights chase's understanding, or lack thereof, about how much foreman and house are alike; foreman does prioritize the puzzle in a lot of scenarios (like in 3x01, when he agreed to the endless battery of tests to figure out what was wrong with richard beneath the surface). but it also emphasizes chase's strained relationship to belief writ large by omission. i maintain that, in the vein of chase's catholic roots (and the related symbolism that house md brings to the table), chase is always looking for a deity to provide the code and associated beliefs, which would be house. whereas foreman and cameron, however similar they are to house in reality, have their respective convictions, chase subliminally wants them handed to him.

that's what makes the moment so interesting when he realizes house has duped everyone into thinking he was administering morphine to ezra. he thought he understood house's belief and followed it pretty unquestioningly; when the rules changed, his response didn't, only his reaction. he changed to agree with house, maintaining nothing (i keep saying this - the buildup to house firing him is crazy!!).

returning to cameron, i think a lot of her character culminates in this episode (as we've known her thus far). time and time again, we've seen how her visions of an ideal world and her convictions force her into misery and a state of non-decision; it reminds me of moments like 1x07 where her naivety is revealed to actually be painful, unflinching moral code inspired by her life experiences.

in one of my favorite conversations between them thus far, house begs her to make a decision on the matter, implying along the way that the case is suffering without her/because of her indecision:

house: "you can't decide if we're helping or hurting him. if he's good or bad. do your damn job."

cameron: "i'm not gonna lie to him."

house struggles with middle grounds and grey areas, and cameron does too - they just have polar opposite ways of dealing with them. whereas house forces his way through to one side or the other, cameron sits with the discomfort in the middle. both have their drawbacks - jumping the gun vs. inaction. but whether it's the added knowledge that ezra has had a medical career full of human rights violations, the eventual understanding that her inaction is bad for her, or a combination of a million other things, cameron does what she's told and then some. she helps ezra die.

3x03 emphasizes house and cameron's rare, self-aware solidarity. they agreed on just about nothing throughout the case, including a patient's right to ask for assisted suicide. but solidarity trumps beliefs here; the presence of conviction (and cameron's are the strongest) are what these 2 value. cameron decided to just believe in something, like what chase struggles to do, but to act on that belief, like house does.

in a season that's about showing us how the 3 fellows have grown up under house's tutelage, "i'm proud of you" simply cannot be understated.

finally, i've got to talk about the elephant of irony in the room. 3x02 concluded with one of the Lines of All Time when wilson is accusing house of playing god but, lest we forget, according to house: "god doesn't limp." house was hurt by wilson's lie and offended by his presumption that house believes that he acts above everyone else...

...ok greg. so what are we doing throughout 3x03, then?

not only does house lord ezra's life and death over his head (forcing someone to NOT die with dignity, since house beliefs that death and dignity are antithetical to one another), but he makes each of the fellows question their belief systems, culminating with cameron. he is at his most deified in some respects in this episode, yet the collateral impacts his fellows more than it does him. he still won the puzzle; the patient still died; cameron was still emotionally injured.

a classic all around! with some great forward momentum for cameron and house specifically! once again, i like the discomfort and anxiety season 3 builds regarding house and his fallibility, and i like 3x03 even better because it really gets the fellows involved. one last note because i didn't quite fit it in above - i like how cameron is separated from chase and foreman visually here because she's without her lab coat and because she's dressed in black.

[once-in-every-sometimes]

Introducing my Deltarune AU...

SpamTenna COPACABANA!!!*

(*now featuring SwatchTon! Yippie!!)

details below:

*Firstly, I recommend listening to the song or reading the lyrics if you haven't before- this AU is HEAVILY based off of the song.

Ok, so. Bear with me (🐻 <- bear with me)

Lola -> Spamton

Tony -> Tenna

Rico -> Mike

Unnamed Disco tender -> Swatch

I know the assignments might not make sense right now but let me cook.

Spamton, a down-on-his-luck Addison, decides to abandon his salesman career and become a showgirl(boy?) at Mr. (Ant) Tenna's TV Time Club.

Tenna is the owner of the club, but also fills in for his bartender, Ramb. He's called out ten days this month already, I wonder what he's up to...

Tenna usually doesn't pay too much attention to his showpeople after he hires them. They're usually indistinct Pippins or the occasional Shadowguy. Bunny ears + Playboy Bunny suit = profit?? someone draw that please please pl-

Oh and the cat Shadowguys are there too. I Guess. Tenna says those are just the furries, don't mind them. They're mostly in the band.

Lanino and Elnina are Tenna's waitstaff, and the employees of the month! Every month...

The Zappers are the bouncers... obviously.

Now back to Spamton- Tenna's interest is immediately captured by this tiny freak. Why is an Addison here? Why is he dancing? Why does he think he can dance? These questions will remain unanswered.

Tenna finds him endearing, and begins talking with him both on and off the clock. Spamton soon replaces Lanino and Elnina as Tenna's favorite employee.

They quickly become friends, and soon, something even more. But the power imbalance of a boss/employee relationship doesn't look so good, so they try to keep it on the low.

It doesn't work. Everyone knows.

While drunk one night, Tenna confesses his love for Spamton. This is way too soon, Spamton thinks. He's not even sure he reciprocates these feelings- weren't they just supposed to be hooking up?

Spamton leaves without responding to Tenna, leaving the man feeling heartbroken and betrayed.

Thinking nothing of it, Spamton returns to work the next day as usual. Tenna was probably just drunk and completely forgot the whole thing already, right?

Or... maybe not. Tenna doesn't talk to him that day. Not once. After a few days of this silent treatment, Spamton finally gives in and plans on talking to Tenna after his shift.

Though that talk never comes. A local mobster, Mike, has been known to have beef with Tenna. And he's back in town.

NO, IT'S NOT MY BELOVED MIKE TRIO. I WILL NOT TAKE CRITICISM. or it can be, if you want it to...

Not even waiting till after-hours, Mike guns down and kills Tenna in his own club. In front of his customers. Employees. Spamton.

Spamton's life is ruined. He hadn't realized his love for Tenna until now. And now it's too late.

The years go by. Club owners, employees, and customers change. But Spamton can't find it in himself to quit his job. He has to make it up to Tenna in some way, right?

Even if it means losing his mind in the process. What's there stopping him from drinking himself to death?

The club has changed hands once again, now owned by Swatch and under the name Swatch's Color Café Club. The showpeople and waitstaff have been replaced by Swatchlings.

Much like Tenna to Spamton, Swatch catches Spamton's eye. He looks familiar, but... no, he's not him. Though why not take a chance anyway?

Spamton quickly befriends Swatch, and their relationship progresses in a healthier way than with his previous lover. Soon, Spamton might even say he loves Swatch... but can he truly love anyone ever again, after what happened?

Spamton can try, but...

He'll never be him.

THAT'S IT FOLKS!!! Hip hop hooray if you've made it this far reading my slop. I don't know if it's been done before, or if it's even good, but I figured I'd just get my idea out there. In the crazy case that you're insane and want to draw or write something for this, go ahead! Lord knows I definitely can't. You can change some things if you want, too.

So, uh... yeah! Let me know if you like it (or even hate it too), or want to see more stuff like this from me! Thanks for reading!

[angstama]

04 ; spaces between us | l.jn

pairing: dad!lee jeno x f!reader (ft. na jaemin)

genre: angst, slight fluff

synopsis — three years after divorcing jeno, you've found a careful rhythm in co-parenting your son jun. the old fights about his work schedule and emotional distance have faded into polite exchanges and shared custody arrangements. but when small moments of connection start to feel like second chances, you begin to hope that maybe you could try again. though, it all falls apart when jeno asks to introduce jun to his new girlfriend. suddenly, you're forced to confront a devastating truth: the man who claimed he "wasn't good at relationships" during your marriage has apparently learned how to love properly—he just needed someone else to do it with.

a/n: hiiii lovelies!!!!! thank you so much for your patience in waiting for chapter 4 :") i am personally MOST EXCITED for chapter 5 bc omg drama :")))) also i received so many asks for angst reccs and im taking some time to compile them so do give some time! meanwhile, thank you so much for all the love! tds4 was so good and im so excited to see them again in bangkok dkfhksdjsd i got noticed by jeno and mark LFGGGGGGG IDKFJS anyways love you guys so so much! see you in chapter 5 🤍🤍🤍

sbu m.list | previous | next chapter

the drive to jeno’s place felt like a slow crawl through a storm with each second thick with the weight of your spiraling thoughts. anxiety pooled in your stomach, tightening with every passing streetlight. your mind was consumed with jun. was he okay? but underneath that worry ran a quieter, more complicated fear: what jeno must be thinking. that you had ignored him. that you were irresponsible. that you’d been too busy… with jaemin. the thought made your chest ache, and the silence in the car only made the guilt louder.

you spotted jeno’s apartment building as jaemin pulled up to the curb, its familiar grey-bricked facade somehow colder than you remembered. “i’ll wait here,” jaemin said, glancing over at you. his tone was easy, but his eyes searched your face like he wasn’t sure whether to let you go in alone. “i’ll be fine,” you said, unclipping your seatbelt. “i’m not planning on staying long.”

you knocked, knuckles grazing the door of jeno’s apartment with a tension that had been mounting since you saw his name light up your phone fifteen times. 

the door swung open faster than you expected.

jeno stood there, jaw tense, eyes scanning you from head to toe. “seriously?”

you blinked. “what?” that’s when you heard it — the unmistakable sound of a car door shutting behind you. you turned just as jaemin was getting out of his car, stretching a little from the driver’s seat, his usual calm coolness intact.

jeno’s expression hardened. “so that’s why you didn’t answer my texts?”

you opened your mouth, caught somewhere between explanation and defense, but jeno was already stepping forward, his voice raising—not quite shouting, but cutting sharp. “i had to cancel everything because you couldn’t bother to pick up your damn phone. soomin fell. i needed to be there, but instead i had to stay with jun because i didn’t know where you were. i didn’t even know if something happened to you.”

you recoiled slightly at his tone, anger flaring to match his.

“you’re kidding, right?” you scoffed, crossing your arms. “you’re mad because i didn’t drop everything so you could run to your girlfriend?”

“she's injured.”

“she’s not dying,” you snapped. “and what do you mean by you had to stay with jun? jun is your son."

jeno doesn’t answer right away. his eyes fixed on jaemin like he’s still trying to figure out what his presence here means. his silence feels heavy, stretched thin between everything unsaid. “it’s not about that—” he starts, voice tight.

but you cut in before he can say more.

“you know,” your voice wavered, soft but sharp around the edges, “back when we were still married… i got the flu so bad i couldn’t even stand. i was shivering on the floor trying to hold jun, and you left — said you had deadlines. said it couldn’t wait.” you laughed, bitter and small. “but now? now you’ll drop everything for soomin. because she slipped?”

you hated how pathetic it sounded, hated even more how honest it was. the bitterness sat on your tongue like something you couldn’t swallow down, no matter how hard you tried. maybe it wasn’t just about today — maybe it was everything. the way he seemed to keep showing up too late, and never when it mattered most. the way it always felt like someone else had to come first before you. even now.

and after everything — after you thought things between you were finally steady, manageable — it just felt like the distance was growing all over again. like the two of you were slipping through the cracks in a space you swore you had learned how to hold.

jeno looked stunned for a moment—genuinely thrown. but then he glanced over at jaemin again, his jaw clenching. “i don’t know what’s going on between you two, but—”

“there’s nothing going on,” you threw your hand up in frustration. “but even if there was, it still wouldn’t erase the fact that you only seem to be capable of being the man i needed back then… now. for her.”

silence.

jun’s soft footsteps echoed behind jeno as he padded into view, clutching his stuffed pikachu. “mommy?”

you exhaled slowly, reaching for him. “hey, baby. ready to go?”

he nodded into your shoulder, sensing the tension but too young to name it. you kissed the top of his head, gaze flicking up one last time to jeno—who looked like he wasn’t sure if he was more guilty or angry.

“say goodbye to daddy, jun,” you reminded gently, your voice soft but steady. because no matter how complicated things had become between you and jeno, you never wanted that to touch the way jun saw his father. jeno was still his dad — and jun was still the most important thing in his world.

jun hesitated for a moment, his little hands tightening around the fabric of your shirt before he slowly slid off your lap. he padded over to jeno, arms outstretched, and wrapped them around his father in a small but firm hug.

“bye bye, daddy…” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. then, after a beat, he added, “i hope aunty soomin doesn’t feel too much pain.” jeno froze, arms instinctively wrapping around jun, but his heart sank.

he must’ve overheard everything.

the argument. the raised voices. the tension that neither of you managed to hide. and now, jeno’s son — his sensitive, thoughtful boy — was trying to make sense of it all, shouldering guilt that never should’ve touched him in the first place. and in that moment, it didn’t matter how right or wrong jeno felt. it just hurt.

you watched as jun made his way back to you, his small steps slower than usual, head still bowed. without thinking much of it, you bent down to scoop him into your arms, your fingers brushing through his hair with a gentleness you reserved only for him.

"come on, buddy,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to his temple. “uncle jaemin's going to drive us home, okay?"

you tickled his cheek lightly, earning a quiet giggle that settled something in your heart, even if just for a second. you didn’t notice the way jeno’s eyes flickered, or how his jaw clenched at the sound. you were too focused on grounding yourself—for jun’s sake.

jaemin had been leaning against the car, arms crossed casually, though his gaze remained fixed on you. as you approached, his eyes briefly shifted to jeno—his expression unreadable, but his smile long gone.

he’d caught the tension in your body from yards away, the stiffness in your shoulders, the unspoken weight you were carrying. even if he hadn’t heard what was said, he knew. and more than that—he saw the way jeno kept glancing his way, like his presence alone was something unwelcome.

jun peeked out from your shoulder, still tucked securely against you, and offered a shy wave.

"hello, uncle jaemin," he mumbled.

jaemin’s features softened immediately. he stepped forward, voice light and playful. “aigoo, hello junnie,” he cooed, reaching out to ruffle jun’s hair gently.

the small exchange was innocent, affectionate—but jeno’s face twisted at it, his brows drawing together tightly.

it wasn’t the words. it was the ease. the comfort. how naturally jun said uncle jaemin.

and for reasons he couldn’t admit out loud, it unsettled something deep inside him.

the car ride was quiet at first.

jun was tucked in the backseat, humming to himself as he stared out the window, legs swinging slightly. you sat in the passenger seat, head leaned gently against the window, fingers resting near your lips—lost in thought.

jaemin drove in silence for a while, giving you the space he figured you needed. the only sounds were the low hum of the engine and jun’s occasional murmurs from the backseat as he traced shapes onto the window with his finger.

still, the weight in the car was palpable. so jaemin tried—tried to cut through the tension the only way he knew how.

because if he could make jun smile, maybe it’d make things a little lighter for you too.

“hmm… jun-ah,” jaemin started, glancing at the rearview mirror with a playful tilt to his voice, “did you finish building your new deck to beat me yet?”

jun’s ears perked at the familiar topic, and his whole face lit up with excitement. “yes! uncle jaemin, i added all the new cards you told me about! do you want to play with me?”

jaemin grinned. “of course. but how about this?” he threw a quick glance at you before returning his eyes to the road. “there’s a carnival happening nearby—tons of games, snacks, probably some overpriced cotton candy. what do you think if your mommy and i take you there first, and then we go back and have our ultimate card battle?”

jun gasped, audibly delighted. “really? mommy, can we go? please?” he leaned forward in his car seat, eyes wide.

you blinked, surprised not just at the idea but at the way jun was practically vibrating with joy. and the way jaemin looked—soft, casual, like this wasn’t some grand gesture but just something he’d do.

you shot jaemin a wide-eyed glance, your hands lifting in disbelief as if silently asking, what the hell are you doing?

he just shrugged, utterly unfazed, the picture of calm mischief.

you mouthed a firm, no, narrowing your eyes at him. but jaemin tilted his head toward the rearview mirror, subtly nodding at jun—who was practically glowing with excitement, kicking his little legs and grinning ear to ear.

your shoulders sagged. you sighed, defeated, a reluctant smile tugging at your lips. “...one hour. and no cotton candy before dinner.”

jun let out a triumphant cheer in the backseat, and for the first time since you stepped into jeno’s apartment that morning, you let yourself relax—just a little.

the car rolled to a stop just outside the fairgrounds, a soft glow of colorful lights already illuminating the dusk-kissed sky. laughter and music drifted through the air, warm and nostalgic, the kind of atmosphere that felt like a brief escape from the heavy week you'd just had.

you stepped out of the car, folding your arms with a half-exasperated sigh as you turned to face jaemin. “jeno isn’t gonna like this,” you muttered, eyebrows raised in warning.

jaemin only looked at you, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smug grin. “who’s jeno?” he asked, all faux innocence as he circled to the other side of the car.

you let out a sharp breath, caught between a scoff and a reluctant laugh. “you’re unbelievable.”

he gave you a wink before opening the back door, his tone instantly softening. “come here, champ,” he said, reaching in to unbuckle jun from his seat.

“uncle jaemin!” jun beamed, arms shooting up excitedly.

jaemin lifted him with ease, cradling him against his side like it was second nature. “you ready to crush those games and win every prize in sight?”

“yes!” jun squealed, kicking his legs midair, already buzzing with energy.

the carnival lights flickered above like stars that decided to come down for the night, and the scent of fried snacks and spun sugar clung to the air as you weaved through the crowd with jaemin and jun. jaemin didn’t even blink whenever money was involved—he insisted on paying for every booth, every snack, every ride. “i make more than enough to spoil one kid for one night,” he’d said casually when you tried to protest. 

the three of you stopped at a basketball booth, where oversized stuffed toys lined the shelves, taunting every passerby with the illusion of an easy win.

"this one!" jun pointed excitedly, his little finger jabbing toward the rack of orange basketballs. "i wanna play this one!"

"you sure, champ?" jaemin asked, crouching beside him. "this one’s kinda tricky."

"i can do it!" jun puffed out his chest, all confidence and charm, the very image of jeno when he got too sure of himself. that made something tug in your chest.

jaemin chuckled softly. "all right, then. let’s show this hoop who’s boss."

he paid the attendant and handed a ball to jun, who immediately took the most chaotic shot known to man—it bounced off the backboard with a hollow thud and nearly ricocheted into a stranger’s cotton candy.

"woah!" jaemin laughed, catching the next ball before it could roll too far. "that was… really something, champ."

"i missed," jun said, deflated.

"what? no way," jaemin said with a mock-serious face. he leaned in, stage-whispering like it was the biggest secret in the world. "you just scared the hoop. i saw it shake a little. that means you're too good. the basket’s intimidated."

jun’s eyes lit up. "really?!"

"obviously," jaemin nodded solemnly. "i’ve been playing basketball for a long time and i’ve never seen a hoop tremble like that. you’re basically a prodigy."

you watched them from the side, arms crossed, biting down a smile. jaemin looked completely ridiculous hyping jun up like that, but your son was beaming so wide you thought his cheeks might cramp.

"okay okay, let me try again!" jun said, gripping the ball with new purpose.

"lemme help." jaemin positioned himself behind jun, guiding his small hands on the ball. they both tossed it together—it barely made it halfway to the hoop, but that didn’t matter.

"that was amazing," jaemin announced, ruffling jun’s hair as if he’d just nailed a three-pointer in the finals. "we’re basically unstoppable now."

he leaned toward the bored teen manning the booth and said, “how much for the dinosaur plush?” while jun wasn’t looking. a few folded bills later, the neon green stuffed toy was being handed discreetly to jaemin, who turned around with a gasp of mock surprise.

“jun! look what i just found. i think the hoop felt bad and gave us this as a peace offering.”

jun’s face lit up brighter than the booth lights, and he squealed as he hugged the dinosaur with both arms. “he’s so squishy! i’m gonna name him... dino-nim!”

“excellent choice,” jaemin nodded, looking more than pleased with himself.

you shook your head, stepping in closer with a sigh. “you’re such a bad influence,” you muttered, just loud enough for him to hear.

“and generous,” jaemin quipped, that trademark smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “don’t leave that part out.”

you rolled your eyes, lips twitching despite yourself as you reached for jun’s hand. “come on, dino-nim,” you said playfully, giving jun’s plush a little pat as he beamed.

jun happily took your hand, swinging it as the two of you strolled ahead, his laughter bubbling like soda fizz. behind you, jaemin fell into an easy pace, hands in his pockets, watching the two of you with an expression you didn’t quite catch—but if you had, you might’ve noticed the softness there.

as the three of you approached the ferris wheel, jun’s eyes lit up with the kind of wonder that only children seemed to have — full of untouched magic and joy. “mommy, can we go on that one? please?” he asked, already tugging on your hand with excitement.

you glanced up at the massive wheel, the lights blinking lazily in the early evening glow, and then back at your son’s face. “you sure you’re not scared?” you teased.

jun puffed up his cheeks, shaking his head adamantly. “i’m brave now. uncle jaemin said i was.”

you looked to jaemin, who simply gave you a small shrug and an innocent look. “he is brave,” jaemin said, feigning seriousness. “besides, you’re the one who agreed to the carnival. you’re in too deep now.”

you let out a laugh, soft and tired in a way that made your chest ache a little. “fine. ferris wheel it is.”

jaemin handed the ride operator the tickets — again, without letting you pay — and the three of you piled into the little carriage. jun was squished next to you, his small hands gripping both your fingers like they were his anchor.

as the ferris wheel continued its slow climb to the top, the three of you suspended against the dusky skyline, jun leaned against the safety bar between you and jaemin, nose nearly smushed against the glass as he marvelled at the blinking lights below.

"you know," jaemin said, stretching his legs out slightly in the cramped carriage, "i think i’ve officially won today.”

you gave him a sideways glance. “won what?”

“best day planner. fun architect. child entertainer extraordinaire,” he listed smugly. “and you were what? just moral support?”

you scoffed. “please. if anything, i’m the MVP here. you were just the wallet.”

“and yet the wallet is the reason your kid’s currently convinced he’s a carnival champion,” jaemin shot back, nodding toward jun who was humming happily to himself. “so you’re welcome.”

“the only thing you championed today was bribery,” you muttered under your breath, recalling how he paid for the giant plushie prize they didn’t even win.

“strategic investment,” he corrected. “plus, dino-nim? totally worth it for that smile.”

a comfortable silence settled between the two of you as the ferris wheel reached its peak. below, the carnival lights twinkled like stars, and jun pointed out each booth excitedly like a tour guide. the city sprawled out around you, vast and untouchable, but for a moment, it felt like the three of you existed in a pocket of time — floating just above reality.

and damn, how badly you wished jeno was here to see this — not just the view from above, but jun’s eyes lighting up at every twinkling light, his quiet laughter echoing in the sky. not just the city sprawled beneath you, but the way this small moment somehow felt like everything you'd ever hoped parenting could be.

jaemin pulled up outside your apartment building, the headlights casting a soft glow on the quiet curb. in the back seat, jun was fast asleep—mouth slightly open, arms limp, completely knocked out from the night’s excitement. you unbuckled your seatbelt just as jaemin turned to glance at you, then over his shoulder at jun.

“i got him,” he said gently, already getting out of the car. you watched through the window as he opened the back door, crouched down, and scooped jun onto his back with a natural ease that surprised you more than it should’ve. jun stirred slightly but stayed asleep, arms draped around jaemin’s shoulders.

you walked a step behind them, quiet, listening to the soft shuffle of jaemin’s footsteps and the occasional hum he made, as if to soothe the boy still dreaming on his back. when you reached your door, you unlocked it quickly and held it open, letting jaemin inside.

he knelt to place jun gently on the couch, careful not to wake him. you grabbed a blanket, draping it over jun, your fingers lingering at his cheek for a second longer.

you turned to jaemin, wanting to say something— yet unsure of what to say either.

so instead, you offered a tight-lipped smile. “thanks for tonight. really.”

he nodded once, hands tucked into the pockets of his coat. “it was fun,” he said lightly, eyes searching yours for a moment. “jun’s a cool kid.”

you nodded. “he thinks the same about you.”

jaemin pulled away from the curb slowly, headlights fading down the street, and for a moment you just stood there in the doorway, listening to the low hum of the night and the soft, even breaths of your sleeping son on the couch behind you.

but just before he’d left—just before you could close the door—jaemin had lingered. his hands were still in his pockets, shoulders slightly raised as if bracing himself to say something. there was a pause. not quite hesitation, but not confidence either.

you tilted your head, sensing it. “what?”

he shrugged, feigning casual. “nothing. just remembered i have a… dinner thing. with someone.”

your brows lifted. “a dinner thing?” you echoed, half-teasing.

he smirked, stepping back with that infuriatingly casual swagger. “yeah. a very formal, high-stakes date—with my leftover pizza and some truly awful reality tv.”

you let out a short laugh, crossing your arms. “wow. don’t let me keep you from such a prestigious evening.”

he shot you a mock salute, grin tugging at the corner of his lips. “i wouldn’t dream of it.”

“see you monday, jaemin,” you said, already nudging the door open.

“counting down the seconds,” he called back, turning toward his car.

in the car, jaemin leaned back into the driver’s seat with a long sigh, letting the silence settle before starting the engine. his phone buzzed on the passenger seat, screen lighting up with a name and a string of messages:

[8:11PM] [unknown number] hey! still on for dinner tonight? 😊 restaurant's at 8:30, right?

[8:17PM] [unknown number] jaemin?

[8:35PM] [unknown number] hey… are you still coming?

he picked up the phone and stared at it for a while, thumb hovering over the screen. the clock at the top now read 9:01PM.

he sighed again, this time with a soft smile, and tossed the phone into the back seat without responding.

he wasn’t exactly sure when he made the decision—maybe back at the carnival, when he saw how jun clung to your hand and beamed every time jaemin knelt down to his level. or maybe on the ferris wheel, when you leaned slightly toward him as the wind tugged at your hair, eyes alight at the view. or maybe even earlier than that, when he carried a sleeping boy on his back and heard you laugh tiredly as you opened your door.

all he knew was that the idea of having dinner with a stranger didn’t sound half as good as spending time with you and jun.

he drove off into the night with the windows half down, wind in his hair, a quiet song playing on the radio.

not that he minded missing the date anyway. not even a little.

the conference room was a pristine box of glass and marble, drenched in cold daylight. you sat beside jaemin at the long lacquered table, posture steady, voice sharp in your throat. the opposition sat across—jewel corporation’s ceo, mr. han, flanked by his attorneys. beside him, a woman—their vice ceo, though you hadn’t caught her name—remained perfectly still. composed. elegant in a sharp, clean suit, not a hair out of place. she leaned slightly forward, resting her clasped hands on the polished wood table.

you had your file open in front of you, notes scribbled in the margins. jaemin sat beside you, composed, one leg crossed over the other and fingers drumming lightly on the table. he looked every bit the picture of calm, but you caught the subtle flicker of his eyes to yours—a silent cue. ready?

you gave the tiniest nod.

"we’ve reviewed your client’s revised proposal," their lead counsel began, her voice cool, practiced. "but a $52 million settlement? that’s an inflated figure, even factoring in reputational damage."

you leaned forward, fingers laced. "it’s proportional to the environmental harm caused and the communities impacted. we’re not talking just fines and cleanup—we’re talking years of displacement, toxic exposure, and a PR disaster you’re still trying to mop up."

"not to mention," you paused, "your own internal memos acknowledged liability. should we enter this into discovery, we’d be happy to revisit the leaked bylaw 8.4 amendments and that conveniently-timed reclassification of waste materials."

mr. han’s brows lifted. “$52 million is excessive. our metrics—”

“your metrics don’t live near contaminated water sources,” you cut in, eyes narrowing. “your metrics don’t account for the families displaced, or the whistleblower you tried to silence last spring.”

you cleared your throat as you flipped to the next page in the binder, gaze steady and voice firmer than ever. “$52 million. non-negotiable.”

there was a beat of silence.

“that’s a steep ask,” their legal counsel finally said, his voice careful.

jaemin, seated next to you, hadn’t spoken much during the meeting—but you could feel his presence, steady as a mountain. he sat with his usual relaxed confidence, one arm resting across the back of his chair, his other hand idly turning a pen between his fingers. he let you take the lead, just like always, but you knew he was listening to every word. calculating. watching.

when their counsel pushed again—"surely your client understands this could drag in court?”—jaemin finally leaned in slightly.

“we’re very comfortable with that,” he said smoothly, with the kind of quiet certainty that could make a room go still. “but we figured we'd offer this as a gesture of efficiency.”

his tone was cordial. borderline polite. but it was a warning, and everyone in the room heard it.

you caught the faintest twitch at the corner of the woman’s mouth. not quite a smile. more like a silent acknowledgement.

that was the moment you knew: she wasn’t here to play games. and despite her composure, she had just taken measure of both you and jaemin—and stored it away for later.

"we'll discuss this internally and get back to you," she finally said, the first words she uttered since sitting down. her voice was smooth, low, and carried the weight of someone used to being listened to.

you gave a curt nod and reached forward to stop the recording, the quiet click of the video camera marking the official end of the deposition. the tension that had been thick in the room slowly began to dissipate, replaced by the shuffling of papers and chairs.

the woman across from you—elegant, composed, and impossibly unreadable—stood without a word. but before she turned to leave, she glanced at you. it wasn’t hostile, not quite. but there was something in the way her eyes scanned over you—measured, sharp, almost disdainful—that left a cold knot twisting in your gut.

she didn’t say anything. she didn’t have to.

and then she was gone, her heels echoing down the hall like punctuation marks.

you exhaled slowly, leaning back in your seat. the room was quiet again, just you and jaemin left in the aftermath.

“god,” you muttered, rubbing your temple. “one down.”

“and what a show it was,” jaemin said lightly, though his eyes were still fixed on the door she had just exited. “she didn’t like you.”

you shot him a sideways look. “thanks. didn’t pick up on that at all.” you were packing up when you suddenly remembered that the camping trip that will be happening over this weekend and you'll finally meet soomin. the woman who will be evidently a part of your's and son's life though a part of you wished she could just remain in jeno's life and away from you. but you also wanted them to get along, if she makes jeno happy then jeno deserves this.

“what are you doing this weekend?” jaemin asked, glancing over his shoulder as he flipped through some papers but clearly not paying them any attention. his mind wandered elsewhere—specifically, back to that day at the fair with you and jun. he’d never admit it out loud, but he’d been replaying moments from it more than he cared to admit.

“i do still have a match with jun we didn’t finish,” he added casually, like it was just about the game, though it wasn’t.

you paused for a second, gaze flicking up from your screen. “well, that’s too bad,” you muttered, voice flat, a trace of bitterness slipping through. “jun’s off on a family trip this weekend. with his dad and… his girlfriend.”

you didn’t need to explain further. the word “family” hung heavy between you both, tasting almost foreign in the way it now referred to a version of your life that no longer included you.

jaemin looked up at the change in your tone. subtle, but enough for someone like him to catch it. “so that means you’re free?” he asked, the corners of his mouth twitching upward.

you hesitated, suddenly aware of how quiet the office had gotten. “i guess,” you said with a shrug. “though i might be hanging out with renjun and chenle.”

his brow lifted ever so slightly. “chenle? as in, our old classmate chenle?” he tilted his head, a glint of curiosity lighting his eyes. “interesting.”

you gave him a look, immediately catching on. “don’t even start.”

jaemin smiled, already reaching for his phone like he was penciling something in. “that’s fine. i’ll come too.”

you blinked. “what?”

“i’ll join.” he repeated smoothly, as if it had been your idea all along.

you stared at him in disbelief. “nobody invited you.”

he leaned back in his chair with all the smugness in the world. “and yet, here i am—inviting myself. that’s initiative.”

you narrowed your eyes. “aren’t you supposed to be a busy man?”

and it was true—na jaemin was a busy man. people were always trying to get a piece of him, to earn his time, his attention, a spot in his orbit. but the only place jaemin wanted to be was near you—though he’d never admit it out loud.

he’d always been a little addicted to your presence, even back in university when the two of you were constantly butting heads. you drove him insane, challenged everything he said, always two steps ahead with that sharp mind and sharper tongue. but underneath all that rivalry, jaemin admired you deeply—your brilliance, your fire, your relentless drive.

and if he was honest with himself, it was you who pushed him to become the best version of himself in this field. you were the competition he never wanted to lose to, and somehow, that rivalry turned into something quieter. something softer. something he was still figuring out.

“i am.” jaemin nodded. “but that’s the beauty of it. i have associates to be busy for me.”

“you’re unbelievable,” you scoffed, though the corner of your mouth betrayed you with a reluctant smile.

“and yet… you’re still smiling.”

“no, i’m not.”

“you are.”

“shut up.”

“i’ll see you saturday,” he grinned, already turning back to his laptop like the matter had been settled.

you rolled your eyes, but your heart felt just a little bit lighter.

// to be continued...

taglist: @chaoticstrawberryland @bbykaixx @strawberrytyong @desiree-lee @mybearcollective @dilflover44 @kangshinwoolovin @kgneptun @firydst @httpsxnox @justineasian @sunflowerhae @huangberryyy @stelleduarte @luvleenono @ccoristu @gomdoleemyson @tinted-skies @dior-15 @socollectionmoom @blackberrywonie (if i missed out your user pls lmk!!!!)

[nemumiruku]

Dick headcanons for Nightreign's men.

Just made a silly little headcanon. Actually had to look up how birds reproduce because I absolutely have no idea how a furry hawk mates 🥺 tw: nsfw, dicks,...

Wylder’s cock is around 6.5 inches when hard. It has a natural, gentle upward curve that matches his easy, fluid movement as a swordsman.

He was circumcised as part of a tribal coming-of-age rite, so there’s a faint scar ring low on the shaft. The head is always exposed with a smooth, healthy pink color that darkens slightly when he’s aroused. The shaft itself is well-proportioned and lean, with a few subtle veins running along it, just enough to give it texture without looking harsh.

Pubic hair is blonde, matching his body hair. He doesn’t shave or trim it meticulously, but travel and frequent bathing in cold rivers keep it naturally tidy. It's like a short, soft bush that tapers into a thin trail over a lean belly.

His balls are medium-sized, with skin that’s smooth but slightly weathered from constant riding on horses and moving around, hanging a little lower in the summer heat.

When he’s aroused, pre-come forms in thick, clear beads at the tip, more than enough to make things slick with zero fuss. He doesn’t leak dramatically, though, unless he's extremely turned on.

Sex with him is attentive and slow, as he mainly focuses on his partner’s comfort and pleasure. Can't say he's super great despite being the most sought-after bachelor by women from his tribe. But he's got that natural talent and he learns fast ya know, he's a skilled swordman, after all.

When he finishes, it’s a few hot, strong pulses of pearly white cum. They're thick enough to be felt and leave warmth inside you or on your skin. Loves coming on your face.

Ironeye’s cock is around 5.7 inches when hard. It's slender and straight, with just a slight upward lift that makes it feel natural in the hand. He’s also circumcised as part of his people’s tradition for hygiene on the road and in camp, leaving the head permanently exposed. The glans is a deep, dusky reddish-brown that stands out beautifully against the rest of his dark skin, with a smooth, velvety matte finish.

The shaft is lean but well-shaped, matching his build. It has a few fine veins that wind across its dark-brown skin. Subtle but visible when he’s fully hard. The corona is well-defined but not bulky, giving the head a clean, finished look.

His pubic hair is strikingly white in contrast to his dark skin. It’s naturally wavy but kept short and neat with careful knife-trimming. It forms a dense but well-managed patch around the base, fading into a narrow, white trail that climbs his belly.

His balls are smallish and pulled close, the skin dark but smooth with the same subtle texture as the rest of him. They stay tight to his body most of the time, a side effect of constant movement and cold, early-morning camps.

When he’s aroused, pre-come is restrained with a small, clear bead at the tip, just enough to slick the head without any mess.

In bed, Ironeye is rather quiet. He doesn’t talk much, and usually lets his eyes say everything, flicking between your face and watching your body language. I would say he's skilled with his fingers, so is he with his dick.

But the real surprise is how much he cums when he finishes. The man's usually sex-deprived due to assassin business, so whenever he gets to release, it's always a lot that it's pornographic. Loves coming on your ass and tits.

Executor’s cock is about 7 inches hard, with a broad, solid base that tapers subtly toward the head. He’s uncut, foreskin a little thick but healthy, well-kept despite the Crucible Knight life. When he’s aroused, it retracts in a slow, natural roll to reveal a dark, reddish-brown glans that glistens wetly with pre-come.

The skin along his shaft is a deep, dark brown. Thick veins here and there, giving it texture without making it look harsh. A few pale scars cross the shaft, but none so dramatic as to be ugly. They’re there if you look hard enough.

His pubic hair is dense and coarse, kept short enough not to get tangled in armor or cloth but never shaved bare. It forms a thick, blunt patch around the base, fading into a short trail up his hard, scarred belly. And you just know that his balls are large and heavy, the skin's dark and slightly wrinkled.

Pre-come is generous but slow to emerge. Thick, clear beads that seep out and coat the head, leaving it glossy and slick without dripping all over. He tends to press the foreskin back slowly with one thumb when he’s teasing himself, letting the wetness catch in the folds.

In bed, Executor is rather reserved but intensely demanding. He doesn’t talk much and sometimes not at all, but I just know that he fucked hard (it's the quiet guy that has the biggest dick and is the freakiest freak trope).

When he cums, it’s usually three or four strong pulses, thick and sticky, leaving warm streaks or flooding deep inside if he’s buried. Loves coming inside because of that.

Guardian doesn’t have a human penis in the usual sense. Instead, as a bird-like humanoid knight, he has a cloacal protuberance that is as functional and purposeful, designed for mating.

When not aroused, it’s hidden neatly behind a smooth, feathered slit under his crotch. But when aroused, the slit parts to reveal a stiff, slightly hooked phallus about 4.5 to 5 inches long. It has a firm, rubbery texture to press in without hurting, with a tapered, hooked tip designed to anchor lightly inside.

The surface is slick, wet-looking, and has a warm pinkish human skin color. It’s marked by subtle backward-facing ridges that are soft to the touch when relaxed but firm up when he tightens his pelvic muscles, allowing a secure internal lock during climax.

Natural lubrication leaks steadily once it emerges. There's watery fluid that slicks everything it touches, making it easy for the shaft to slide in with minimal friction.

He is intensely focused when mating. His eyes will narrow as his feathers along the neck fluff slightly with excitement. His breathing is controlled, each exhale making his chest rise and fall slowly.

When he orgasms, the phallus pulses in rhythmic spasms, delivering a single strong, hot surge of semen. It’s sticky, a bit viscous, and designed to stay exactly where it’s put. There’s a subtle, musky, animal scent to it, too. Afterward, the shaft slowly retracts back into its cloacal slit without causing much mess.

He doesn’t speak much during sex since he's locked in, but will give comments if needed. And there are also some vocalizations and the occasional gentle clack of his beak due to the pleasure as sounds of approval.

Raider’s cock is about 8 inches hard, but what stands out most is its thick, weighty, almost brutal size. It curves slightly downward, a natural bend earned from decades of heavy use and age, with prominent veins.

He was circumcised long ago in a coastal rite, leaving a broad, uneven scar ring low on the shaft, pale against the darker skin. The glans is wide and flattened, with a dark, purplish hue that seems almost bruised when fully engorged.

It’s got a slick, shiny look when aroused thanks to generous pre-come that seeps from the tip, gathering in slow, sticky beads that string out when he strokes himself lazily.

His pubic hair is dense, wiry, and heavily salt-and-pepper gray, spreading in a thick, unashamed bush at the base. It extends in a broad, matted trail up his belly, meeting the similarly coarse hair on his scar-lined chest. He doesn’t trim it at all. It’s as wild as the man himself. His balls are large and heavy with hair growing thick and tangled at the base.

Pre-come is plentiful, sticky and musky, leaving his cock wet and gleaming when he’s aroused.

When he cums, it’s loud and shameless. He releases in a few heavy, hot, thick spurts that flood inside, leaving sticky evidence once he's done. He doesn’t bother to clean up quickly, usually catching his breath with a filthy grin, running a big, scarred hand over the mess with pride. Loves coming inside cuz grandpa's wild.

[kiswolffy]

“Only the Foolish Touch Fire”

Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson x Reader

Genre: Enemies to Lovers | Overprotective | Slow Burn | Tension & Angst

Word Count: ~1,700

Setting: The French Quarter, post-season 2

Warnings: Violence mention, blood, emotional tension, possessive behavior (in the hot vampire way), swoony quotes from Elijah

♤○♤○♤○♤○♤○♤○♤○♤○♤○♤○♤○♤○♤○♤○♤○

○♤○♤○♤○♤○♤○♤○♤○♤○♤○♤○♤○♤○♤○♤○♤

You hated Elijah Mikaelson.

And not the casual, ugh-he’s-so-annoying kind of hate.

No. This was principled, earned, bone-deep loathing.

He was everything you swore to never trust: immortal, manipulative, merciless in a suit. His words were daggers wrapped in velvet, and his eyes held centuries of judgment every time they met yours.

And still… there he stood.

Shirt bloodied. Jaw clenched. Hands twitching like they ached to tear the world apart.

All because someone else hurt you.

“Elijah,” you groaned, gripping your side as you leaned against the alley wall, dizzy. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I was nearby,” he lied too smoothly.

"You were spying,” you corrected. “As usual.”

He stepped forward. You tried to straighten, but pain dragged you down. A vampire had tossed you like a ragdoll during a solo ambush. Rookie mistake. You blamed the bourbon.

“Let me see,” Elijah said, already reaching for your shirt hem.

You slapped his hand away. “I said I’m fine.”

“And I say you’re not,” he snapped, a rare crack in that perfect composure. “I smell blood. And I can barely hear your heartbeat. Don’t be stubborn, Y/N.”

Your chest rose and fell with labored breaths. “You don’t get to care.”

His eyes darkened. “I care more than I should.”

That shut you up.

For a moment, silence fell over the alley. Somewhere behind you, music drifted from a jazz bar. The scent of blood and bourbon lingered in the air.

You finally broke the silence. “You hate me.”

“I never said that.”

“You treat me like I’m a nuisance.”

“You are infuriating,” he agreed tightly. “Reckless. Impulsive. You challenge me in ways no one else dares to.”

You laughed bitterly. “So I annoy you.”

He was in front of you in a blink. Too close.

“No,” Elijah said, voice low and intense. “You unravel me.”

Your heart stuttered.

He reached out, gently, this time and lifted your chin. His fingers were cold, but his gaze burned.

“From the moment we met,” he continued, “I have tried to remain composed. Civil. Detached. But every time you walk into a room, I feel like a man standing too close to fire.”

You didn’t speak. Couldn’t.

“I watch you throw yourself into danger without fear,” he said, “and I convince myself that your recklessness is foolish. That I can hate you for it.”

His thumb brushed your cheek, tracing blood or dirt or maybe just any excuse to touch you.

“But it’s not hate, Y/N,” he said softly. “It never has been.”

You swallowed hard. “Then what is it?”

His jaw clenched. “It’s the knowledge that I would rip out the throat of anyone who hurt you. That if anything ever happened to you, if I failed to protect you, I would not forgive myself.”

You stared at him. “I’m not yours to protect.”

“Maybe not,” he said. “But I will. Until my last breath. Whether you want me to or not.”

You tried to speak, but the world tilted again — pain flaring, vision blurring.

Elijah caught you effortlessly, one arm under your legs, the other steadying your shoulders.

“Let me take you home,” he said, already walking. “Don’t argue.”

“I’m still mad at you,” you murmured.

“I expect nothing less.”

“You’re… insufferable.”

He smiled faintly. “And you are impossible.”

But his voice was gentler now. Quieter. Like he was afraid if he spoke too loudly, you might disappear.

You hated how warm it felt, being in his arms.

You hated the way your traitorous heart fluttered.

And most of all, you hated the realization that no matter how much you fought it…

You didn’t hate Elijah Mikaelson.

Not even close.

♤

♤

♤

[reijisteacup]

I could make a short NSFW fic about Subaru where his S/O demonstrates her skill at oral sex when he gives in and lets her perform it on him for the first time. However, before he can break his senses with pleasure, the thought that she must have learned this from another man (she wasn't a virgin when they met, and Subaru knows she had a relationship before him) leaves him astonished with jealousy.

On the other hand, on the girl's side, in her previous relationship, her ex-boyfriend was a jerk who not only neglected her pleasure during sex, but also said very cruel things like, 'Stop moaning, you sound like a dying animal, it's ridiculous.' This left her with a lot of insecurities, but she always tried her best to please him. Now, away from that abusive relationship, she feels more comfortable with Subaru. However, the vampire always held back the few times they had sex because he didn't want to hurt her – and that night, overcome by feelings of possessiveness due to jealousy, he dominates her like a wild beast in rough, dominant sex full of dirty talk. The girl has never felt so much pleasure in her life and feels great with his words of affirmation (and the fact that he is rough but so devoted wins her over even more)

If anything came out incoherent, I apologize. I'm using Google Translate to help me. English is not my native language...

Of course, anon and I understand <33 I hope this wasn't something you went through anon if so I'm sorry and I'm here if you need anything

=================================================================================================================================

It started with silence.

Subaru had been quiet all evening — more than usual. You could feel it in the way he held you on the couch, arms snug around your waist as you sat between his legs. His chin rested on your shoulder, breath warm against your neck, but his fingers twitched every few minutes like he was holding something back. You let him be. He wasn’t always ready to talk. But when you turned in his arms and kissed the side of his jaw — soft, slow, reverent — he finally breathed. “…Why are you so good to me?” Your heart clenched. “You make it easy,” you whispered. His red eyes dropped to your lips, and you saw the shift. That subtle, barely-there tremor in his gaze that always came when he was fighting something deeper — that need he never wanted to name. He kissed you then. Sweet at first. Tentative. His hands were warm on your cheeks, thumbs brushing under your eyes like he was memorizing the shape of you. But the moment you whimpered into his mouth — the moment your fingers gripped his shirt tighter — something in him cracked open. He pulled back, cheeks flushed. Breathing heavy. “…Let me touch you tonight,” he said, voice rough. “Don’t stop me this time.” Your breath caught. “I wasn’t going to.”

That’s all it took.

He kissed you again — deeper, hungrier. Still gentle, but laced with something desperate. Something yearning. When he laid you down on the bed, he was careful, hands never leaving your skin as he undressed you piece by piece, kissing your chest, your belly, your hips — whispering things under his breath like he didn’t mean for you to hear them. “So fucking beautiful…” “Why the hell would anyone say you weren’t…?” You froze for a second. He felt it. Saw the flicker of tension in your eyes. Subaru sat back, panting, brows drawn in confusion. “What is it?” You hesitated. But the words came. “My ex… he didn’t like when I made noise during sex. Said it was pathetic. That I sounded like I was trying too hard. Like I was just being dramatic to get attention.” Silence. Then?

Subaru’s entire expression shifted.

You expected anger. And yes, it was there — flickering in his jaw, in the way his hands curled into fists. But there was something else, too. Sadness. Guilt. Disbelief that someone had touched you with anything less than reverence. “…He really said that shit to you?” You nodded, cheeks warm. “I stopped making noise after that. Started faking it just to make it stop. I thought maybe I was the problem.” Subaru exhaled hard — almost like it hurt. He leaned down and kissed your forehead, your cheek, your mouth. He was shaking. “Don’t you ever say that again,” he whispered, voice rough with something he couldn’t mask. “You’re not the problem. That bastard was.” He kissed your chest, then moved lower, resting his face between your thighs. But this time? He looked up at you first. “You’re gonna make all the sounds you want tonight,” he growled, voice trembling. “And I swear to god, if you ever hold back from me again because of him, I’ll lose my goddamn mind.” He kissed your inner thigh. Slowly. Tenderly.

Then?

He devoured you.

There was no teasing this time. No waiting. Subaru licked into you like he needed to taste every inch of you to breathe — groaning the second your thighs trembled around his head. He wanted you loud. Wanted you crying his name, moaning until your voice cracked. Every time your hips bucked or you gasped too loud, he praised you. Roughly. Filthily. “That’s it, baby. Just like that — let me hear you.” “Fuck… you sound so perfect when you moan.” Your orgasm hit fast. Hard. It had been building from the first flick of his tongue, and when it broke, you sobbed his name. That’s when it happened. Subaru’s restraint snapped. He was already above you before the aftershocks had faded, mouth wet from your climax, eyes burning red with jealousy and lust. “…How many times did that asshole make you fake it?” he muttered, lining his cock up to your entrance with a low, furious groan. “How many times did he get to be inside you while you suffered in silence?” Your hands found his face. You smiled — soft. Sure. “Too many.” “But you’re here now.”

That did it.

He slammed into you in one hard thrust, burying himself to the hilt with a guttural sound as your nails dug into his back. He didn’t stop — didn’t slow down. Subaru fucked you like he was trying to make up for every time you’d been neglected, every cruel word that had ever touched your skin. His voice was filthy, reverent, absolutely wrecked. “You feel that? That’s how you’re supposed to feel.” “You’re so fucking tight — god, baby, moan for me. Let me have it.” “I wanna hear every fucking sound I missed. Every one he never got.” You cried for him — real cries. Moans. Gasps. Screams. And he fucking loved it. Every twitch, every breathless plea sent him deeper, harder, rougher — hands gripping your thighs, forcing them wide so he could slam into you again and again until your body went limp beneath him. When you came again, he didn’t stop. He fucked you through it, praising you in a broken, reverent rasp. “That’s it, sweetheart. So good for me. So fucking perfect. I’m never holding back again — never.” He spilled inside you with a growl of your name, collapsing against your body with sweat-drenched hair and a racing heart. And for a long moment, neither of you spoke. Then… he kissed your shoulder. Softly. Like a prayer.

“…I’ll never let anyone make you feel like that again.” You smiled, holding him close, your body still trembling from the aftermath. “I know.” Because now? You had Subaru.

And with him, you’d never fake a damn thing again.