#The real question is who's going to stop me?

[callipraxia]

I’ll admit it - thinking of ‘but what will people think of me?’ has stopped me short of writing things before, in everything from writing actual content to writing part of a review on a friend’s story. “What will [Friend] think, seeing that I know that? Even if I explain the actually relatively innocuous reason why I know it, would they even believe me? This is an issue of how something is portrayed in media that I feel pretty strongly about, but in context, it might be better to just…drop it.”

I…tried actually including a detailed example of my next point here, drawing from Anon’s Robert Jordan remark, but it ended up breaking the thousand-word limit before I even got past the introductory explanations, so I guess I’ll write a separate essay about why I don’t really agree with the “dudebro is secretly obsessed with lesbians and BDSM” line of thinking, maybe link it back here later if I remember. In the meantime, the point was - if I start thinking “dang, I think Author X has an Issue with Y,” it’s usually a lot less because of what the author leaves in than what the author leaves out. As an author, one deliberately chooses to explore certain topics, including dark ones that reflect the issues that preoccupy us (isn’t Anne Rice’s work supposed to be kinda messed up? I mean, I’ve never read a word she wrote that I can recall, but aren’t they all, y’know, horror novels?). As distasteful as we might find it, incest and pedophilia and sexual assault and suicide and all those other words you can’t use on YouTube are real things that happen every day. There’s a plethora of reasons why any given author might want to explore such issues in writing, and at least half of ‘em have nothing to do with sex. I’ve never heard anyone imply that Dostoyevsky must have been really, really turned on by the thought of attacking pawnbrokers with axes, much less that he ever committed a murder in real life just for the heck of it. From what I’ve read - though to be fair, my reading on the subject is not extensive - Nabokov probably wasn’t really a pedophile, and Mario Puzo probably had nothing to do with real-life organized crime. I have heard a few people suggest Stephen King must be a perverted serial killer in real life to write what he writes, but those people were idiots. And so forth. Point is, an author examining evil through a certain point of view really should not lead to the assumption that the author has done or wants to do any of those bad things. That’s why we say that authors use their imaginations when they’re working.

Plus, well…nine times out of ten, nobody’s going to make you read a book. If you really can’t read a book without getting uncomfortable because you can’t stop thinking that X or Y means that the author might have wanted his wife to put him on a leash and spank him, you can almost always just…put down the book and go read something else. You can also do this if you’re uncomfortable with Anne Rice apparently having conflicting feelings about God - that isn’t a potential theme that bothers me, but I know people who would be upset for days about reading something that even hinted at someone Having Questions about the divine. Heck, I have a few books I 99% enjoy and I just skim over or entirely skip parts that involve actions I find uncomfortable - my one hard rule is that I won’t willingly even skim anything where bad things happen to pets, but even then, I don’t assume that everybody who ever earned a Newbury Medal is a bad person who likes thinking about such things. I just don’t read their books. Unless you are compelled to do otherwise for a class* or the like, just do thou likewise.

*I was, very reluctantly, compelled to read two books in my undergraduate Adolescent Literature class where bad things happened to dogs; it was the first and last time in my life that I’ve ever tried to get out of reading something, but the professor didn’t believe what I could bring myself to explain about just how negative of a reaction I knew I would have if I read any books with dying dogs in them. Now I still have one of those scenes lodged in my carousel of intrusive thoughts that drive my anxiety level up and make it really difficult not to engage in compulsive behaviors whenever they rudely shove their way up to the front of my brain, but I don’t think badly of Sherman Alexie because of it.

Do you think authors sometimes don't realize how their, uh, interests creep into their writing? I'm talking about stuff like Robert Jordan's obvious femdom kink, or Anne Rice's preoccupation with inc*st and p*dophilia. Did their editors ever gently ask them if they've ever actually read what they've written?

Firstly, a reminder: This is not tiktok and we just say the words incest and pedophilia here.

Secondly, I don't know if I would call them 'interests' so much as fixations or even concerns. There are monstrous things that people think about, and I think writing is a place to engage with those monstrous things. It doesn't bother me that people engage with those things. I exist somewhere within the whump scale, and I would hope no one would think less of me just because sooner or later I like to rough a good character up a bit, you know? It's fun to torture characters, as a treat!

But, anyway, assuming this question isn't, "Do writers know they're gross when I think they are gross" which I'm going to take the kind road and assume it isn't, but is instead, "Do you think authors are aware of the things they constantly come back to?"

Sometimes. It can be jarring to read your own writing and realize that there are things you CLEARLY are preoccupied with. (mm, I like that word more than concerns). There are things you think about over and over, your run your mind over them and they keep working their way back in. I think this is true of most authors, when you read enough of them. Where you almost want to ask, "So...what's up with that?" or sometimes I read enough of someone's work that I have a PRETTY good idea what's up with that.

I've never read Robert Jordan and I don't intend to start (I think it would bore me this is not a moral stance) and I've really never read Rice's erotica. In erotica especially I think you have all the right in the world to get fucking weird about it! But so, when I was young I read the whole Vampire Chronicles series. I don't remember it perfectly, but there's plenty in it to reveal VERY plainly that Anne Rice has issues with God but deeply believes in God, and Anne Rice has a preoccupation with the idea of what should stay dead, and what it means to become. So, when i found out her daughter died at the age of six, before Rice wrote all of this, and she grew up very very Catholic' I said, 'yeah, that fucking checks out'.

Was Rice herself aware of how those things formed her writing? I think at a certain point probably yes. The character of Claudia is in every way too on the nose for her not to have SOME idea unless she was REAL REAL dense about her own inner workings. But, sometimes I know where something I write about comes from, that doesn't mean I'm interested in sharing it with the class. I would never ever fucking say, 'The reasons I seem to write so much of x as y is that z happened to me years ago' ahaha FUCK THAT NOISE. NYET. RIDE ON, COWBOY.

But I've known some people in fandom works who clearly have something going on and don't seem to realize it. Or they're very good at hiding it. Based on the people I'm talking about I would say it's more a lack of self-knowledge, and I don't even mean that unkindly. I have, in many ways, taken myself down to the studs and rebuilt it all, so I unfortunately am very aware of why I do and write the things I do most of the time. It's extremely annoying not to be able to blame something. I imagine it must be very freeing. But it ain't me, babe.

Anyway, a lot of words to say: Maybe! But that might not stop them from writing it, it might be a useful thing for them to engage with, and you can always just not read it.

Also, we don't censor words here.

[sweetascherry1]

I’ll be watching you — Lee Byung-hun

Description: Over the years your fans has slowly watched you and Lee Byung-Hun fall in love. They finally get to see you guys working on a project together for the first time since G.I. JOE. What even better? The promotion for the Netflix hit Squid Games.

Parings: Lee Byung-Hun x Actor F!Reader

Warnings: Some use of Y/N.

2013 G.I. JOE Retaliation Promotion.

The bright lights of the cameras shined on you and your co-star, while the interviewer asked you basic questions.

“So how did the two of you feel with this new casting. Mr Lee who had already played in the original G.I. Joe movie and you who has just now made her debut.”

You look to Byung-hun silently pleading for him to take on the question first. Luckily one look your way and he knew your silent question. Something you had found yourself grateful for.

“The entire cast is full of amazing actors, who are so caring and gentle.” Slowly you felt your nails picking at your cuticles as you thought of your answer. “I had a lot of fun working with these guys — and everyone on the crew makes it so fun.”

You didn’t noticed at first, and honestly neither did the interviewer. He was so slick with the way he slid his hand into yours, stopping your bad habit. Giving your hand a gentle squeeze before you answering as encouragement.

Your voice didn’t waver as you let the warmth of his hand bring you back to earth.

“Working on a project this big, with these actors who I truly admire is something I’m so excited about. This my ‘debut’ and it’s crazy to me that this is all really real.”

Before the interviewer could ask his next question Byung-hun didn’t think before keeping your conversation going. Helping your nerves.

“Going Hollywood is definitely something that is nerve wracking. I remember how crazy the whole thing was for me.”

Your little smile at him made the fans go crazy when the video came out. The hand holding, and little gentle reassurances he would do throughout the entire thing was something fans couldn’t get enough of as they would re-watch it over and over.

—

Photos flashed everywhere, blinding you as you stepped onto the movie premiere. Your dress was gorgeous, just like you. Your hair and makeup styled perfectly, you had honestly felt like a princess.

And in true prince fashion, Byung-hun stepped in when he saw you picking as your nails again.

Smiling at the photographers, he grabbed your hand. Leaning down to whisper in your ear; “your hands are too pretty to mess up. Squeeze mine instead.”

When he straightened his posture, and smiled once again for the cameras, as if nothing happened, you couldn’t help but think maybe that’s when you first felt it.

Devotion, wrapped in admiration.

He had helped you so much with your anxiety, some would say it was inevitable to favor him. “Thank you.” All he did was simply squeeze your hand back.

The blinding lights going crazy over the hand holding. Surely it would cause rumors, but for once you didn’t let it get to your head. Simply holding his hand instead.

—

For Lee Byung-hun, he had only thought of you as a co-worker. While your admiration for the man was so obvious, he couldn’t help but thing it was a silly crush you had because he helped you in tough situations.

He kept it professional, denying at friend invites you sent him, or any drink you’d offer him. Though he changed perspectives after watching you most recent single interview.

“Many of your fans are interested with your relationship with your co-star Lee Byung-hun. Can you elaborate on it?”

Truth was you felt nervous at this question, you didn’t know the right way to answer. Though you knew you wanted to be honest and not let the rumors continue, even if it may disappoint some.

“Ah, well truth be told there is no relationship I can really explain. This movie is the first time I’ve had such a big role.

While filming, it’s true I had quite a few scenes with Storm Shadow, more often than not. While filming those scenes I’d watch the way Lee Byung-hun embodied his character.

It was something I was truly impressed about, and so since our characters were so intwined with each other — we were paired for most promotional videos.”

You took a deep breath before continuing, grateful that the interviewer didn’t interrupt.

“During our first promo video, I was extremely nervous. This is such a big film and I was so in my head — seeing this my co-working held my hand to help with my anxiety.

People who support me loved it. Was all for it, but all it was, was him helping a co-worker out. The same thing happened at the movie premiere.

While on that carpet my heart was pounding and he was there to offer support. That’s all, the rest is rumors. I simple just admire him and someone to learn from.”

You felt a little shaky but ultimately felt better after clearing air. In your eyes Mr Lee Byung-Hun was uncomfortable about the rumors. That’s why he wouldn’t ever socialize much with you, so you had felt proud of yourself for putting an end to it.

On the other hand, him hearing you say you only admire him from a person to learn from had hit him hard. A person he knew actually looked up to him. It was an honor, one he had became proud of.

So when he saw you next, he didn’t beat around the bush.

“I’m a person you admire?” You didn’t have a crush on him like he originally thought, and that’s the moment he wanted you be your friend.

That’s the moment he had devotion towards you. Devotion wrapped in friendship.

—

Your final cast interview. It was a long experience, but an unforgettable one. This whole movie had became something you truly loved, cast included.

“Each of you will read out a card, and say the answer within ten seconds. If you get it, you’ll gain points. Whoever has most wins.”

A simple game to finish it off. Easy peasy.

To the right of you, Dwayne went first. “In ten words, explain the film.” He read off before hurrying to put ten words out.

“Cobra.” One finger up. “Escapes.” Another. “While. Joes. That. Are. Left. Fight. Back.” One last word, but just before he could think of it — getting stuck the timer went off.

The whole crew laughed at his disappointment, and then next was your turn.

“I’m nervous.” You gave one deep breath before reading out your card. “Why should you watch the new movie.”

One. Two. “Have you seen this cast?” Five. Six. “Just look at Dwayne’s muscles.” Everyone laughed.

Dwayne got a little red, causing a little teasing. It was a good moment, a happy moment. So why was Byung-hun laughing?

In fact as it was a viral clip, not you teasing Dwayne, no it was Lee Byung-hun reaction that was viral.

“Have you seen this cast?” Byung-hun kept his entire focus on you, not even looking away once when you spoke. In fact throught most of the interview, he barely paid anyone else much attention. “Just look at Dwayne’s muscles.”

A bitter feeling bubbler under his skin, as he felt his blood hot. His jaw visibly clenched, as he glared at the man in question. Before looking you up as down, his fist the next to clench. Not a single laugh leaving his lips let alone a smile.

It went very viral, and Lee Byung-hun didn’t even try to deny what they were saying. Jealousy, yes. Though it wasn’t because he was romantically interested. He just felt a sense of belonging over you. Not in a toxic way, or at least not in his eyes.

Truth be told you only mentioned to him simply because you didn’t want him to be mad at you.

“What that video going around about?” A simple question. He was in your living room, laying down on your lap, eyes closed while you mindlessly scrolled through instagram.

Instantly he knew what you were talking about and once again he didn’t defend himself.

“I didn’t like how you mentioned him.”

“His muscles.”

A scoff slipped past his lips, “I have those too, you know?” He sat up, and didn’t hesitate to lift his shirt up to show you. His abs briefly capturing your full attention.

“Yea but there’s already enough rumors about us.” That was true, and he knew that but he just didn’t care.

“Let them talk.” He brushed a hair out your face, “we’re friends, and friends go over co-workers.”

Friends, neither of you doubted the word. But we’re friends so devoted to one another? So admirable to the other? So protective? Yet the word was never doubted.

—

Over the years

Over the years, neither of you worked on a project again. That didn’t matter, your friendship was still so ever strong.

Often at each other’s house, getting food, attending events. All your fans had was an occasional post about the other.

Once you posted putting a pretty pink bow in his hair, his face was in complete annoyance.

“Byung-hun. Look at me!” He knew you had your phone recording and he debated on weather or not to snatch before looking at you. Ultimately he settled for a glare.

“My pretty princess.” Oh he just might kill you. His head tilted as suddenly you felt a little hotter as he look up at you. Like he was going to devour you alive. “Princess? I’m the one that pampers you—“ before he could continue the video went black.

It was a fond memory of your and you had posted it. As expected whenever a post involving the other popped up it blew up.

Though his comment made even more chaos. As he so much loves to do. No joke, before he made the comment he laid on your bedroom floor breaking silence as he watched the video.

“How can I make this more chaotic.” You couldn’t help but sigh at him.

I dream so often of shutting your mouth. Any ideas?

It went crazy. Then again you’ve done that before, comment a wild thing on his post.

For instance, he posted a picture of himself sweating. Chain dangling (one you got him) and a devilish smile.

Have my kids, I’ll never talk back.

Yea?

You had purposely also sent him a private audio message, cat calling him.

The uproar your fans had, oh well let’s just say many articles broke out.

It was honestly fun, watching your fans want something so bad and just dangle it. Made the two of you feel euphoric on the power.

Yet that wasn’t the only thing you two had found euphoric.

Eventually at one point the two of decided to drink and drink. None of you think before you both crossed a line that was already so faded.

You kissed, and then kissed. Until you ending up the next morning both naked in bed.

The two of you decided for the best that none of it ever happen again, but even though you didn’t — it doesn’t mean you two forgot. In fact neither of you can look at wine the same.

Though, y’all’s restraint fell apart eventually as the two of you kept ending up in each other’s bed.

Most people wouldn’t be shocked if they knew, but oh the two of you were dumbfounded on why you guys could resist each other.

So began your friends with benefits era. A classic.

As that era ended, you both realized you had wanted more, so eventually causal dating was the next step for the two of you. In private of course.

—

Promotion of squid games

You and Byung-Hun both sat in front of cameras. Each looking at fan made videos. It was nice to see such creativity, or that what you thought going into this.

As the first video played, with weird dancing and animation, you couldn’t understand how Byung-Hun could keep a straight face.

“That was for sure… interesting.” The side eye you gave him, and then the camera was definitely clipped.

“I feel wrong.” Is all you had simply said. Which was true. “Definitely love the work put into this, and I think it’s cool how people made this. Just… not my cup of tea.”

A few more weird videos broke out, and some nice one with people singing the theme song, and etc.

The next fan video was an edit of the two of you. Simply just watching each other as the lyrics in the video played. Romantics clearly intended.

It didn’t surprise the two of you. Byung-hun turned his head to you, laughing a little.

“You know, a lot of our fans watched this show for us being in a film together. Yet our characters actually despise the other.” Your smile felt contagious to him as you laughed back.

“Are we the problem?”

The man simply nodded his head back before the two of you watched the next video.

—

Instagram

Liked by byunghun0712 and 345k others

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Username1 Ah! So exciting

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Liked by Yourbestfrienduser

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Liked by Yourusername and 455k others

byunghun0712 how come you never buy? @ yourusername

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Liked by creator

Username1 see how me and him both eat McDonald’s? Meant to be trust

Yourusername honestly you’re so real for that.

Username2 AH, I love you in squid games

Username3 Frontman ❎ Hotman ✅

—

Lie detector interview.

“We are going to give you a set of questions, please answer yes or no.”

Nerves picked at your skin as your watch Byung-hun opposite from you.

They would start with true or false trivia, before going into more detail questions. He gave you a reassuring smile before reading out the first words.

“Is your name really Y/N?” Easy. “Yes.” The detector person gave a thumbs up and he went onto the next question.

“Is it true that you play in squid games season 2?” Another easy one. “Yes.” One more true or false. “Is it true you are very nervous?” The look you gave him was the most ‘duh’ bratty attitude ever.

“Yes.”

“Okay, now onto the actual questions.” He looked down at his card, almost laughing before reading it out to you.

“Have you ever injured yourself on the set of squid games?” You knew exactly what he was thinking about, and it took you a moment not to laugh as well.

“During one of my earlier scenes, I was drinking wine, that I thought was grape juice.” Byung-hun placed a card over his growing smile as you continued. “Well no one actually thought I was drinking actual wine. Nor did I. So I ended up getting a little flushed and tripped off my chair spraining my ankle.”

Amusement wouldn’t even began the joy your co-star had as he remembered the day he carried you back to your trailer.

“Did you have to learn Korean for this film.”

You tilted your head as you thought about it. “I didn’t learn it for this film, but I had learned it a while ago to surprise you because I felt bad you had to translate your thoughts before saying them.”

Lee Byung-hun remembers the first time you spoke to him in Korean. In fact he thinks that was the moment he fell in love with you.

You two had become the definition of she fell first but he fell harder.

You use to mess up so much, and he always loved it. Now you’re pretty fluent but he loves the moments where you ask him for help.

“Tell me more about your character.”

“I play a foreign player, that is intended to remind Gi-Hun about Ali. When I get into the games lots of drama, funny and stressful things begins to happen. I don’t wanna spoil it.”

“Well you passed!” As your began to unhook yourself from the machine, “not a single lie.”

“Not like I could.” You would rather be seen as the honest person you were anyways.

You had asked your co star similar questions but one was a heavily asked fan question.

“What’s your relationship with Co-Star Y/N L/N.” Even you began to feel nervous. Dating. You two were dating and had went a very long time keeping your confirmed relationship private.

But, as you both looked at each other you both knew there wasn’t a point in keeping things a secret.

“Dating.”

Let’s just say the PR for squid game was better than gold.

A/N: I have so many WIP, but no motivation to finish them 😭. So this is my very half attempt to get out of this writing slump! Otherwise I might go insane.

[cloverapple]

Shifting FAQ and why you need to calm the FAQ down

“Can I script that—”

Yes.

“Can I shift to a reality where—”

Yes.

“Is permashifting possible?”

Yes.

“I’ve been trying for x amount of years—”

The time passed already. Focus on here and now.

“Will X happen if I script Y?”

Whatever you script will happen exactly how you want it to.

“Can I shift without any methods?”

Yes. There are infinite ways to shift = Infinite ways to go about something that is instant.

“I’ve tried everything—“

Except fully trusting yourself, since you’re still dwelling on your shifting journey from a place of lack.

“Do I need to believe 100% to shift?”

No. You just need to allow it. Doubt doesn’t stop you, resistance does.

“Is shifting, like, REALLY real?”

Yes.

“But my blockages—“

You’re not a clogged drain. There’s nothing blocking something that happens naturally.

“My subconscious doesn’t believe in my affirmations—“

Oh, my bad. I didn’t realize affirming was the only way to manifest. Sooo, what should I do with this whole bag of feeling my way into my DR, visualization, subliminals, SATs, askfirmations, scripting, channeling, daydreaming, meditating, embodying the state, living in the end, inner conversations, mental rehearsals, literally just vibing, and doing absolutely nothing because sometimes that works too? Should I just toss all that in the trash? Light it on fire? Bury it in the backyard? Cool, good to know.

“Can I shift while I’m tired? While I’m sad? While I’m stressed?”

Yes, yes, and yes. Emotions don’t block shifting. If anything, they help.

“Why haven’t I shifted yet?”

That’s like asking why the sun isn’t rising when you know it’s just beneath the horizon. You know it’s coming, you know it can break through any second, but you keep staring at the dark like the world is ending.

“How do I figure out what I need to do?”

The only person in this universe who knows the answer to that question is you, yet you doubt yourself so much, you mistrust yourself so much, that it’s like whatever your subconscious is telling you goes in one ear and out the other.

“But NOTHING works for me 😭”

Okay, listen—in the gentlest, most kindergarten-teacher voice possible—shifting is like 10% processes that “work for you” or not and 90% trust and letting go. If you can’t trust yourself, cool, trust your undeniable ability to shift. If that feels like a stretch, trust your subconscious (it’s been running the show since forever, give it some credit). Still not there? Trust the outcome. Trust something, anything. And then? LET. GO. RELAX. Like, actually unclench your jaw and stop treating shifting like it’s a piece of raw chicken and you a dog that has not eaten in *checks watch* 2 minutes.

Because if you’re over here sobbing, whining “nothing works for meeeee,” that tells me two things:

A) You don’t trust anything, which, surprise surprise, makes shifting a little difficult. B) Something does work for you. There’s a sweet spot, a method that clicks—but you haven’t found it because you approach every process with fear instead of fun, frustration instead of curiosity, anxiety instead of chill.

Imagine slipping into the driver’s seat of a car you know how to drive, but you’re bawling, panicking, flailing around like the steering wheel’s out to get you. You’re gonna hit a pedestrian. THE PEDESTRIAN IS YOU.

People forget that shifting is as limitless as you are. Shifting is you. Shifting has no rules. You have no rules. So why are you boxing shifting in? Why are you boxing yourself in? Why are you creating problems for something infinite? Why are you stepping into the identity of a finite being when you have the power to shift realities?

You weren’t born with limits. You were taught them. Conditioned to believe that things have to be hard, that you have to struggle, that you need to earn what’s already yours. But shifting doesn’t play by those rules, and neither do you. The only limits are the ones you keep dragging along with you.

“I’m quitting shifting. I still can’t shift even though I’ve tried XY and Z⏤”

This is you:

Side note: If you’ve read all this and you’re still frustrated, overwhelmed, confused, and sitting there like “I don’t know what to dooooo 😩”

Take. A. Break.

A day? Cool.

A week? Even better.

Two weeks? A whole month? Do it.

Take a break from shifting, from overthinking, from spiraling down every forum post and Reddit thread like it’s gonna reveal the secret of the universe. Because if you’ve hit that point where nothing sticks, every piece of advice goes in one ear and out the other, every answer feels wrong, and you’re waiting for some magical piece of advice to make you shift, guess what? You need to calm the FAQ down.

Maybe your brain’s flashing red lights like “WARNING: SYSTEM OVERLOAD” and you’re out here ignoring it, treating frustration and exhaustion like it’s another problem to fix instead of a big ol’ sign that your mind needs a nap and a snack.

Let it chill. Recharge. You’re not losing progress; you’re just giving your brain a breather so when you come back, shifting feels like fun again, not a chore.

[uceyliyahh]

CALL UP

summary: “Who you gon' run to when I'm gone?” Sianni went to the club with her friends completely ignoring Jey’s text messages showing out in front of her friends why? Bc she’s single ofc until he pulls up and puts her in her place.

warnings: toxic ex-boyfriend, unprotected sex, choking, daddy kink, dominance, cream-pie, baby doll, mama, toxic cycle, hair pulling, fluff at the end :)

word count: 3977

AWFUL GRAMMAR IM GETTING BETTER I SWEAR LOL.

comments, likes, repost are appreciated I would love the constructive feedback in what area I need to approve in. 🤍

ALSO! I don’t not want nobody stealing my fanfics or take it as theirs that will be an issue fasho so keep it cute respectfully.

I only own my OC along with the make up scenarios

again mdni you have been warned.

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Sianni

I was excitedly preparing to hit the club with my friends Bianca and Trinity, finally free from the toxic grip of Jey. It felt liberating to know I could do whatever I wanted. We had been stuck in a harmful cycle for far too long. Every time I confronted him about his questionable behavior, he would dismiss my concerns and label me as delusional for trusting what I saw online.

This time, things took a turn for the worse; it was one of the most intense arguments we’ve ever had in our relationship. I had come across a video of him at a club, where a girl was all over him while he chatted with someone else. At first, I brushed it off, but then I received a text from her, complete with screenshots and photos of them together. That shattered me, and in that moment, I realized our time together was coming to an end.

When he returned home from his tour, I confronted him about the situation. Instead of owning up to it, he started denying everything, claiming she was lying and that the screenshots and photos were fabricated. I couldn't believe it and rolled my eyes, refusing to entertain his nonsense any longer. It became clear to me that I needed to end things for good. I was tired of his manipulation and the way he made me feel like I was losing my mind over something he had actually done.

In the present moment, he has been bombarding me with messages and calls, but I refuse to engage. I won’t be fooled by his games again. I applied some lip gloss, rubbing my lips together to create that perfect “pop.” Just then, I heard a car honking outside. When I glanced out the window, I spotted Bianca and Trin arriving.

As I reached for my purse and keys, I felt my phone buzz in my pocket, alerting me to another text message from Jey.

Stink💔 sent a message

Stink💔: Ayo Sianni yo’ ass better stop playing with me and come tf home yk them pictures were fake.

I couldn't help but roll my eyes at his message. He knows those screenshots and photos are genuine; he's just frustrated that he got caught once more. I'm exhausted from going around in circles with him on this issue, so I decided to send him a quick message before putting my phone away in my purse.

Mamas🩷: Jey leave me tf alone aight? You know them screenshots and photos of yall two together are real asf clear as day as a matter of fact I am single and I can do whatever I want so why don’t you go back to that hoe you was fucking and leave me alone.

Upon sending him that message, my phone buzzed once more, prompting a deep sigh as I noticed his reply appear on the screen.

Stink💔: single? Tuh girl yo’ ass is funny keep fucking with me yo’ ass better not be at the club tonight tell Trin and Bianca to drop you off over here now

Could he really be serious? I'm done with these mind games; he made his choice to cheat on me with someone from his own workplace.

Mamas🩷: Joshua you fucking heard me nigga I’m not repeating myself and I’m goin’ to the club either way because I’m fucking single 🙄

I stepped outside, securing the door behind me, and made my way to Bianca’s car. As I approached, she lowered the window, poked her head out, and waved enthusiastically at me.

“Heyyy girly you ready to get turnt up tonight!” Bianca exclaimed.

“Hell yeah! I needed this for real and Trin tell Jey to leave me alone please,” I said as I got in the backseat of Bianca’s car.

Trinity raised her hands, clearly wanting to distance herself from the chaos between me and her brother-in-law. "You need to sort that out with him," she advised, and I nodded in agreement, feeling my phone vibrating in my purse.

When I checked my phone, I saw three missed calls from him, and he was clearly losing it. On top of that, there were three messages waiting for me that completely took me by surprise.

three missed calls from Stink💔

Stink💔: bring yo’ ass home Sianni I’m not fucking playing with yo’ ass

Stink💔: I will pull up in the bitch a snatch yo’ little ass up and you won’t be having no type of fucking fun

Stink💔: acting fucking stupid for no fucking reason better not be shaking no ass you tryna be hoe huh?

Was it bad that I love this shit from him? Him being all aggressive and upset at me for breaking up with him and then heading to the club to act out? Yes it was toxic but did I care? Not really.

Mamas🩷: Joshua I don’t give a flying fuck what’chu yapping about my nigga all of this would’ve been avoided if you would’ve just said yes that you fucked her that’s all but no you want to be innocent and be fucking stupid.

Stink💔: Don’t fucking disrespect me Sianni I will fix all of that shit in a heartbeat and I told you none of them screenshots were real but you wanna listen to Jaida huh? You barely know her.

Mamas🩷: MAYBE she didn’t want me to look more stupid than I already do so how about you go fuck her Jey and leave me alone I told you I’m done

Stink💔: see there you go again being fucking stupid it’s okay I got something for that ass when I come snatch yo’ ass up keep on Sianni

Mamas🩷: I’m not goin back and forth with you nigga goodbye 🖕🏾

I tucked my phone away into my purse, letting out a deep sigh as I gazed out the window at the stars and the moon illuminating the night sky, hoping fervently that he wouldn’t arrive.

Bianca shouted above the pulsating beats of the club, "You two really need to mature! How much longer are you going to drag this out?"

"I genuinely care for him, but every time we seem to be in a good place, things take a turn for the worse when he starts acting sneaky." It’s incredibly frustrating. I decided to ignore his call and put my phone on do not disturb because I just couldn’t handle his drama tonight.

He could have simply admitted that he cheated on me during the times we were apart, especially since our long-distance relationship made it difficult to connect. I understood that being apart would be challenging, but this situation felt far worse than anything I had experienced before. Even when I reached out to him, his responses were often delayed, sometimes not coming until the afternoon. I tried to be patient and not pressure him about it, but everything changed when that girl, Jaida, sent me those screenshots and pictures of them together. It shattered me completely.

Addressing him about this issue or any other concerns I picked up from people online would lead him to dismiss everything as merely “work related.” I found that hard to accept and called him out on it, which only sparked intense arguments. He would manipulate the situation, leaving me in tears and forcing me to apologize. It was a relentless, toxic cycle that I was utterly exhausted by.

I longed for open communication and the reassurance I needed, but he never provided that. I reached my breaking point.

"All my single ladies, it's your time to shine!" The DJ called out into the mic, setting the stage for an electrifying moment as he seamlessly transitioned the music to TGIF by GloRilla.

Going to the club isn't about shedding tears over a guy who doesn't appreciate you or your feelings. It's about hitting the dance floor with your friends, letting loose, and enjoying life to the fullest. Embrace the night, forget your worries, and make unforgettable memories with your girls.

"Let’s have an unforgettable night and leave all our worries behind! I’m excited to be with you, my girls, since we don’t get to hang out nearly enough." With that, I downed a shot of Hennessy and made my way to the dance floor, ready to let loose.

I started dancing freely, not caring who was watching or what they thought. All that mattered was enjoying myself and letting go of the pain Jey had caused me. I was tired of the stress he brought into my life, and I was ready to embrace a good time without worrying about our relationship.

Bianca was clearly putting on a show for Trinity, and I couldn't help but laugh at their antics. Suddenly, I felt two hands gripping my hips, pulling me onto their lap. I playfully backed up against the guy behind me, moving my hips in a circular motion as I ground against him. I could sense his excitement, even though he knew he wouldn't be getting anything from me.

He explored every inch of my body, tracing my curves with his hands, his grip tightening around my throat as the alluring scent of Jack Daniel’s enveloped us.

“You cute as hell babygirl. You tryna head to the back? Got all of this ass on me.”

“Nah. you can get yo' hands off my girl."

I stood frozen, my heart racing as that deep, raspy voice echoed from behind me. I watched in shock as the guy was grabbed from behind, prompting me to spin around instantly. There on the ground lay the man, unconscious, after Jey had delivered a powerful punch to his face.

Fuck. I just knew he was going to make an appearance. Just to do something like this when he doesn’t get his way.

“What the actual fuck is wrong with you? Like honestly?” I shouted as I shoved him away.

“I told yo’ ass sianni I fucking told you now grab yo’ shit and head towards the car don’t make me repeat myself. Got me fucked up.” He shouted while I remained there, arms crossed and unyielding.

He swept me off my feet, hoisting me onto his shoulders as he snatched my purse and phone. His gaze flicked between Bianca, Trinity, and the guy groaning on the ground.

"I had no idea she was your girlfriend; it seemed like she was ready to let loose."

Jey released me momentarily, seizing the man by the edge of his shirt and delivering another punch to ensure he stayed unconscious. Then, without hesitation, he hoisted me back onto his shoulders, even as I struggled to break free.

I was thrashing and wriggling like a child, playfully hitting him on the back, until a swift smack on my backside made me pause and reconsider my actions.

“This what I have to deal with? When yo’ ass could’ve just came home like the fuck I said but no you wanted to show you fucking ass tonight!” He shouted as he released me, forcing me down against his car and holding me firmly in position.

"If you weren't such a blatant hypocrite and a liar, I wouldn't have to deal with this situation, Joshua! A little honesty from you would have gone a long way! I'm so frustrated with you! While I'm at home waiting for you, you’re out entertaining other women at work, making me feel like a fool! " All this anger and resentment I have towards you stems from your actions, and it has left me feeling utterly worthless.

“Lower your fucking tone when you speak to me Sianni and I fucking told you it was work related nothing more!”

"It's hard to believe that entertaining other women and being intimate with them is considered part of the job. I don't see Jimmy or Montez treating Trin and Bianca that way, so what's your excuse now? Try to come up with something more original, or better yet, just be honest you fucking asshole." I couldn't help but roll my eyes at him, struggling to maintain my composure as tears threatened to spill down my cheeks.

“The fuck you just, you know what I’m not dealing with this shit tonight. Get in the fucking car.”

I’m not going anywhere with you, Joshua. I’m heading back into the club with Trin and Bianca. I can’t stand you; I absolutely despise you, Joshua. My feelings for you are nothing but hatred.

“Get in the fucking car Sianni. You starting to piss me the fuck off with all of this stupid shit you doing tonight. Jey swung open the passenger door of his car, casting a scrutinizing glance in my direction. “Get yo’ ass in the mother-fucking car Sianni I’m not playing with you and you aren’t going nowhere yo’ ass can say how much you hate me all you want but I know yo’ ass ain’t leaving me.”

“Ouuu! Fuck!” I grunted feeling my face being smudge into the bed sheets as he pummeled me from the back.

“This is what you wanted right? Showing yo’ fucking ass tonight so take this dick like a good girl for me mama,” When Jey exhaled, he gave me the one-leg-up, one-leg-down combination, which gave him more leverage to drag my ass back. “throw that ass back in circles for me baby doll,”

I was completely bewildered by what he was demanding from me, especially with the harsh blows he was delivering at that moment. When I failed to heed his words, his hand came down forcefully, striking me while he seized my hair, forcing me to meet his gaze. “the fuck did I just say? throw yo’ ass back in circles like you did at the club being a hoe,” Before I could hurl it back at him, his hand slammed down again.

“Mhmm, look at you. this is my fucking pussy you hear me? you had him thinking you was finna give him some tonight. was you gonna give it up baby doll?”

“Noooo…fuck..Jey…”

My pussy tightens gripping against him as his hand thuds my ass again.

“So fucking tight. you were going to give all of this away? something that belongs to me and only me? you’re fucking crazy,”

I couldn’t be angry at him or be upset at him while he as beating my insides in so roughly. My pussy was practically begging for that urge of release, I knew that this was going to happen this never-ending cycle of us arguing and then fucking I was tired of it but within each thrust he had given me he had to remind me that I was his and belong to him and nobody else. It was toxic very toxic but I would always fall for it because I love him and I would do anything for him but this time it felt different way different than before I was talking reckless to him and he once again showed me who was in control of this situation fucking me until my body felt numb.

The car ride was filled with harsh language and hurtful comments. Once we arrived home, I felt compelled to pack a suitcase. I was exhausted from this relentless cycle; it was mentally draining, and he seemed completely indifferent to my struggles. Deep down, I didn’t want to leave him, but I had reached my breaking point. It wasn’t my fault that I felt suspicious about his actions. I had no desire for revenge; that simply wasn’t who I was. After gathering some clothes, I made my way to the door, only to find him blocking my path and yanking the suitcase from my grasp.

“Yo’ ass ain’t leaving me Sianni. Get in the fucking room and wait for me in there. acting fucking reckless tonight I’m not having it.”

I rolled my eyes as he attempted to grab my suitcase, saying, “Joshua, I’m not playing this game anymore. I’ve made it clear that I’m completely finished with you. Go find someone else, like Jaida, and just leave me alone.”

“Why do you have do be so fucking stupid Sianni huh? she’s nobody to me. getcho ass in that fucking room don’t make me repeat myself,”

"No! Fuck that I'm no—" He silenced me by aggressively kissing my lips and driving his tongue down my throat as he carried me to our common bedroom. He threw me on the bed and tore off his clothing while ripping mine off, wasting hundreds of dollars. He then flipped me over and started hitting my wet cunt and not letting me to adjust to his size

“yo’ ass wanna be fucking stupid out here worrying about me doing this and that when I’m worried about you and only you,” He growled slamming into me deeply.

"W-wait! Jey! Oh fuckkk," I wailed as I pushed on his stomach, attempting to slow him down.

“Ain’t no fucking wait you wanted to act out tonight right? act out right now mama do it take this big ass dick,” he rammed deeply inside of my inner walls, showing off his dominance letting me know who’s running the show tonight.

As my yells reverberated off the wall, I could hear how wet my pussy was for him and only him feeling him digging his thumb inside of my second hole driving me insane as he continued to pummeled me to the oblivion.

“Fuckkkk!” The sensation made me cried out.

I knew that he was enjoying this breaking me into two pieces watching me crumbling underneath his touch knowing that I wasn’t leaving him.

Tonight was unlike any other; he was imparting a crucial lesson about the dangers of recklessness. Ironically, he was the one who had put me in this position. Perhaps I had gone too far, but he failed to grasp my perspective. I took the necessary actions, even if they didn't align with his way of thinking.

“Shit, this some good ass pussy mama. You were going to give it away baby doll?” He panted thrusting his hips deeper and deeper. “You ain’t leaving me mama. I won’t allow it after all the shit we been through I won’t.” He moaned out “saying you hate me but knowing damn well you love me way to damn much you taking this dick like a big girl just for daddy mama,”

“Ouuuu.” I cried out, a pit in my stomach telling me I was ready to cum. Within seconds of his dick and thumb digging into my asshole, I was going to make a mess on him and the sheets-damn so much of washing the sheets yet again.

“You finna cum huh? you think I’ll allow you to cum after putting on a show tonight?” He pulled my hair and removed his thumb to let me to stare up at him while grinding my body against his and whining as he rubbed my clit. “tell me something you belong to me? Hm? Is this my pussy?”

I had to say something to get him to let me cum, but I was so worn out and fatigued that I couldn't even understand or imagine the words coming out of my lips.

“you belong to me right? say it,”

“Yes I belong to you..” With a gentle croak, I threw my ass across his lap and chased his high.

“Un-un,” As he continued to hammer me, he put his hand around my throat to keep me near him. “show me how much you wanna cum, show me who you belong to,”

With greater force, I flung my ass back and spat my tongue out at him, opening my mouth wide so he could spit inside of it. He then tongued me down like no other, thrusting his dick deep inside of me.

“Tell me this is mine all mine, and tell daddy that your sorry for acting out tonight and I’ll let you cum baby doll,”

“Fuckkk! I’m sorry daddy! So sorry! It’s all yours I-I belong to you and only you! I-I cumming! Ouuu fuck I’m cumming!” Knowing that I was here to stay and that I wasn't going anywhere, that was all he wanted from me. My body fell onto the bed, and my thoughts went blank as I felt my body flail onto the covers like a dead body as my fluids poured out of me.

He struck me one final time as his warm seeds filled my inner walls to such a degree that I could see stars and felt ropes entering me one after the other.

After letting his dick spew out all of his nut that was gushing out the last of his sperm, he remained in that position for a minute before pulling away from me and flipping me onto my back as he watched my body tremble uncontrollably.

He tenderly brushed his lips across my skin, each gentle kiss designed to calm me, before leaning in to press a soft kiss on my lips. Then, he settled himself between my legs, resting his head against my chest.

“Did you actually mean that shit? That you hate me? Like actually hate me?”

“No, I didn’t mean it. I just wish you were more honest with me instead of denying it, it just felt like you didn’t care,”

“I do care though mama, I just don’t like to when you listen to other people on the net when you should be hearing it from me,”

I let out a heavy sigh, feeling utterly drained. "You know, you kept denying it over and over, which only made you seem more guilty, Joshua. So, I need you to be honest with me: did you cheat on me while you were on tour?"

The atmosphere in the room was thick with silence as he and I locked eyes. “I swear, I didn’t cheat on you while I was on tour. Jon and Montez can back me up on that. As for Jaida, I haven’t spoken to her since we ended things. Those were just old pictures and screenshots,” he said, realizing that my previous reactions were based on false evidence. “I could never betray you like that, mama. I love you too much, Sianni.”

“Then what about all of these times you didn’t answer my calls or text?”

“I was with the guys and got drunk so I couldn’t text you back really, look I’m sorry mama like for real though I’m sorry I want you and only you,”

Did I truly want to trust him this time? I was uncertain whether to approach Montez or Jon about the situation; they would likely just defend him regardless. Still, I simply didn’t have the energy to deal with it.

I weakly nodded in response to his smile, and I couldn't help but think that if looks could truly kill, he would be the one to end me. As we settled into bed, he pulled me close, his strong arms encircling my waist, creating a sense of safety and warmth.

“I love you Sianni,” Jey whispered as he placed a kiss on my neck.

“Mmmm, love you too,” I mumbled while drifting off to sleep.

Could he really be honest? He appeared sincere, yet my tendency to overthink casts doubt on his words. Ultimately, only time will reveal the truth.

-fin ❤️

A/n: ngl this ate down lol 😭🙂‍↕️

[supernotnatural2005]

The Hiatus Beard

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: Dean grows a beard during your much needed R&R, and it does things to you.

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: SMUT!(18+ONLY), swearing, Dean's beard 😍

AN: I thought I'd release a little something before the first part of my series: The Arrangement, this Friday. Scruffy Dean/Jensen is just 🤌🏻 and does things to me. So enjoy this little one shot that got away from me 🫣

Masterlist

For as long as you’d known Dean, he’d always been a minimalist.

Whether that was with his cut-and-dry humour, his “kill first, ask questions later” attitude on a case, or his appearance. The way he dressed—a simple jeans and t-shirt combo with a flannel thrown over. And then there was his hair, short, neat, a quick run-through with some gel, and he was done.

And it had always been the same with his face. Clean-shaven, jaw sharp, lips unobscured. He had a routine. No scruff, no fuzz, just Dean as he always had been. Until now.

The moment the world stopped burning for a minute, when the fight against Michael had finally ended, Dean had agreed to take a break.

A real break.

You and him up at Rufus’s cabin, away from the bunker, away from the weight of saving everyone. Sam had all but shoved you both out the door, telling Dean to let himself breathe for once.

And maybe that was what made it happen. Because, for the first time in forever, Dean let go. He let himself sleep in. He let himself do nothing. He even let himself grow a beard.

It had started as stubble, nothing unusual, just a sign of taking a day off from shaving. But then a day turned into a week, and the neat, smooth skin you’d grown used to gave way to something rougher, wilder. A thick layer of golden-brown scruff covered his jaw, making him look different.

It shouldn’t have been that big of a deal. It was just facial hair. And yet…

You couldn’t stop staring at him.

Dean with a beard did something to you, something primal, something that made heat coil low in your stomach every time you looked at him.

Maybe it was the contrast, the way it softened him but somehow made him look rougher all at once. Maybe it was how it made him look even more like the hunter he was, like the kind of man who could haul you over his shoulder and take what he wanted. Maybe it was because it was just so damn new.

And then there was the way he felt when he kissed you. The scratch of his beard against your lips, the roughness dragging along your skin in a way that made your breath stutter. Every kiss was different now, leaving a burn that lingered, that reminded you hours later that he’d been there. That he’d touched you. And it only made your mind wander further—how would it feel against your throat? Down your stomach? Between your legs?

The thought had haunted you for days, simmering under your skin, making it harder and harder to focus on anything else.

Whatever it was, it had you in a chokehold.

It didn’t help that Dean seemed utterly oblivious to it. He wasn’t doing it to be sexy. If anything, it was the opposite. The man had taken to walking around the cabin in old sweats and a stretched-out Led Zeppelin t-shirt, scratching at his beard like he was still getting used to it, completely unaware of what it was doing to you.

Until he noticed.

It was one night after dinner, sitting by the fire, both of you with beers in hand. Dean leaned back, stretching, and his eyes caught yours. You must have been staring—again—because his lips curled into a slow, knowing smirk.

“Alright, what gives?” His voice was low, rougher with the rasp of relaxation. “You’ve been looking at me weird for days.”

You blinked, feeling heat crawl up your neck. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Dean chuckled, setting his beer down. “Oh, sweetheart, you definitely do.” He rubbed a hand over his jaw, the sound of fingers over scruff making your stomach tighten. “It’s the beard, isn’t it?”

You swallowed. “Maybe.”

Dean’s smirk deepened. He shifted forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he levelled you with a gaze that made your breath hitch. “You like it?”

You could have played coy. Could have brushed it off, made a joke. But screw it. You were tired of pretending.

“Yeah,” you admitted, voice quieter than you meant it to be. “I do.”

Dean’s eyes darkened just a bit, his smirk flickering into something else. Something hotter. “That so?”

You nodded, fingers tightening around your beer bottle. “Yeah.”

Dean didn’t say anything for a second, just let the weight of the moment settle. Then, slowly, he leaned in, eyes locked onto yours.

“What have you been thinking about?”

Dean’s voice was a low murmur, rough and coaxing, but there was something dangerous curled beneath it—something that sent a shiver racing down your spine. His gaze was locked onto you, sharp and unrelenting, like he was already inside your head, already picking apart every filthy thought you’d had about him.

Your breath hitched. You could lie. You could change the subject. But what was the point? He’d see through it. He always did.

Your tongue darted out to wet your lips, pulse hammering like a war drum in your chest. “I’ve been wondering how it would feel.”

Dean’s brows lifted slightly, intrigue flickering through the storm in his eyes. “Where?”

Your stomach clenched, heat pooling low, so heavy it made your thighs press together involuntarily. “Between my legs.”

Everything in the room shifted—thickened. The air became stifling, charged, the space between you crackling with something untamed.

For a beat, he didn’t move. He just stared, breathing slow and deep, jaw clenched tight like he was barely restraining himself. And then—

He snapped.

In an instant, Dean was on you.

His mouth crashed against yours, rough and claiming, his beard scraping deliciously against your soft skin. His kiss was brutal, messy, all tongue and teeth, like he couldn’t get enough, like he needed to taste you, to consume you.

His hands gripped at you, dragging you against him, pressing your body into the hard lines of his own. You could feel him—all of him—thick and aching beneath his jeans, grinding against the heat of your core.

A whimper spilled from your lips, and that sound—it did something to him. A guttural groan tore from his chest as he wrenched his mouth from yours, only to drag it along your jaw, your neck, his teeth scraping, his scruff burning against your skin in a way that made you tremble.

“You wanna feel it, sweetheart?” His voice was a rasp, breath hot against your throat as he nipped at your pulse, making you gasp. “Then let me give you exactly what you’ve been thinking about.”

Before you could respond, he was hauling you up into his arms like you weighed nothing, moving with purpose, raw determination burning in his gaze as he carried you to the bedroom.

Dean didn’t waste time. He laid you out on the bed, broad shoulders squared, chest rising and falling in slow, measured breaths as his eyes dragged over you—hungry, dark, wild.

And then, with agonising patience, he began undressing you. Deliberately.

He peeled away your top first, taking his time, letting his fingers linger on newly exposed skin before his mouth followed. Every inch of you was tasted, kissed, sucked—his beard scraping, the contrast of soft lips and rough scruff making your body writhe beneath him. He worked his way down, his mouth hot and open over your ribs, your stomach, the curve of your hips.

By the time he reached your jeans, you were a trembling mess, already lightheaded from the way he touched you, the way he took his time like he was savouring you.

But when he finally stripped you bare, something in him snapped again.

His hands slid up your legs, fingers pressing into your skin with a bruising grip, parting you for him. His breath hitched as he took you in, eyes darkening to something animalistic, something primal.

“Jesus.” His voice was low, almost reverent, but there was nothing holy in the way he looked at you.

Then he was moving, surging forward, his mouth hot and wet as he kissed up your legs—starting at your ankle, his beard scraping along your sensitive skin, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. His hands gripped your thighs, thumbs digging in as he worked his way higher, pressing kisses, nipping at soft flesh, until—

He reached where you needed him most.

The first swipe of his tongue was slow, deliberate—a tease—but the effect was devastating. Your back arched, a breathless moan escaping you, and that sound shattered what little control he had left.

Dean growled, deep and low, the vibration sending a shockwave of pleasure through you. Then he dived in.

There was nothing gentle about it. He devoured you.

His tongue was relentless, flicking, curling, pressing deep as his scruff burned against the delicate skin of your thighs. The rough drag of his beard was intoxicating, every pass sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core. He gripped your hips hard, holding you in place, refusing to let you squirm away from the onslaught of sensation.

When your thighs clenched around his head, he groaned, the sound filthy, desperate. “Fuck, baby—give me that.” His voice was a growl, muffled against your slick heat, and then he buried himself deeper, sucking your clit into his mouth, his beard scraping in the best, most deliciously punishing way.

You shattered.

Your orgasm crashed through you, white-hot and endless, and he didn’t stop—not when you cried out, not when your fingers yanked at his hair, not when your body shook from overstimulation. He just held you tighter, kept licking, sucking, fucking you with his tongue, dragging it out until you were wrecked beneath him.

Only when you were trembling, spent, did he finally pull back, his lips glistening, his breath ragged as he gazed down at you—his work of art.

And you knew, with just that look, he was nowhere near to being done with you.

AN: I hope you guys enjoyed this one.❤️ And I can't be the only one, who's thought about this, am I right? 👀😂

If you would like to be tagged in my future works please respond to this >form< so I can add you to the character's you'd like 😊

Dean Winchester Tag List: @bettystonewell , @nancymcl , @happyfxckinghorrors , @ambiguous-avery @jollyhunter @tbgfvfdcb @lyarr24 , @impala67rollingthroughtown @jackles010378 @riteofpassage77 @stoneyggirl2 @deans-baby-momma @spnaquakindgdom

[writeriguess]

Hi hun! I'm glad you're feeling better 😙

I see that you write for mha, so I'm hoping you write for Kirishima? He needs more love.

So he's a shy boi who keeps trying to ask out his crush but at the last moment, veers away before he actually can. And reader thinks it's absolutely adorable and keeps feigning innocence to give him time, not wanting him to feel "unmanly" about it 😆 but maybe she ends up confessing herself making him a blushy mess? Maybe add a kiss in there?🙏

author's note: I'm glad to be back too <3 Thank you.

Red as a Ripe Tomato

The lunchroom buzzed with the lively chatter of students. Laughter spilled from nearby tables, and the clatter of trays and utensils added to the soundtrack of a typical UA lunch hour. But for Eijiro Kirishima, none of that existed. Not the conversations, not the noise—none of it. All he could focus on was the way you looked across the table, the sunlight streaming through the windows catching in your hair and making you glow like something out of a daydream.

You were picking at your food, completely at ease, while Kirishima was internally waging a full-scale war with himself.

Come on, man. Just say it. You’ve got this! You’re a manly guy—you can handle asking one question. It’s not like they’re gonna laugh at you or anything.

He opened his mouth, his lips forming the start of something—a “hey” or maybe a “so.” But the sound caught in his throat, and instead, he let out a choked cough. Smooth. Real smooth.

You glanced up, your brows furrowing slightly. “Kirishima, you okay over there?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah! Totally fine!” he replied, voice a little too loud as he waved his hand dismissively. “Just, uh… wrong pipe, y’know?”

“Mm.” You nodded slowly, though the small smile tugging at the corners of your lips betrayed your amusement.

He could feel the tips of his ears burning as he focused on his tray, stabbing his chopsticks into a piece of karaage that didn’t deserve such violence. The food wasn’t the problem—it was the fact that you kept looking at him with that soft, sweet smile. The one that made him feel like his ribcage was too small for his heart and like he was about to burst out of his own skin.

“You sure? You’ve barely eaten anything.” Your voice pulled him from his spiral, gentle but laced with concern.

“I’m good! Seriously!” He laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “Just… thinking about something.”

“Something important?”

“Y-yeah. Really important.” He swallowed hard, his eyes darting up to meet yours before flicking back down. “Like, super important.”

You tilted your head, resting your chin in your hand as you regarded him. “Well, don’t keep me in suspense, Kirishima. What is it?”

He froze, his mind going blank. This was it. This was his chance. He could just say it—ask you to hang out, maybe grab coffee or go to that new ramen place downtown. His palms were sweating, and he could feel the weight of your gaze, patient and curious but not demanding.

“I was wondering if you—” He paused, suddenly hyperaware of the way his heartbeat thundered in his chest. What if you said no? What if you didn’t feel the same? Would you think he was lame or—

“Yeah?” you prompted, leaning in slightly, your eyes sparkling with interest.

“—if you think Mr. Aizawa is gonna give us a pop quiz tomorrow?” The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them, and he instantly wanted to slap himself. A pop quiz? Really? That’s the best you’ve got?

“Oh,” you said, blinking in surprise. For a moment, it looked like you were about to laugh, but you held it in. “I mean, probably not. He doesn’t usually do pop quizzes, does he?”

“Right, right! Of course. I was just… y’know… checking.”

You let out a soft laugh then, shaking your head. “Kirishima, you’re too funny.”

He chuckled weakly, feeling like a complete idiot. You thought he was funny—not smooth, not confident. Just funny. And he wasn’t even trying to be.

Still, there was no trace of mockery in your tone or your expression. If anything, you looked… fond. Like you knew exactly what he was trying to do and were giving him the space to figure it out at his own pace. It was almost worse, how kind you were being. It made him feel even more nervous.

“Hey,” you said suddenly, your tone a little softer. “If you ever need to talk about something important, I’m always here, okay?”

His head snapped up, his eyes wide. “R-really?”

“Of course.” You smiled at him, warm and genuine. “You’re one of my favorite people, Kirishima. I mean that.”

If his face wasn’t already red, it definitely was now. He mumbled something incoherent and immediately shoved a piece of karaage into his mouth to avoid having to respond.

You watched him with a knowing smile, hiding your amusement behind your hand. Kirishima was a lot of things—brave, strong, ridiculously kind—but subtle was not one of them. You’d caught on to his crush weeks ago, noticing the way he always seemed to hover near you, his shy smiles, the way he’d stumble over his words whenever you were around.

You thought about making it easier for him, maybe taking the initiative and asking him out first. But you knew Kirishima. He had a certain sense of pride, a belief in doing things the “manly” way. If you took the lead, you worried it might make him feel like he wasn’t enough.

So instead, you played along, feigning innocence and giving him all the time in the world to work up the courage. It wasn’t hard—you adored watching him try.

“Hey, Kirishima?” you said, tilting your head.

He looked up, still chewing, and made a questioning noise.

“Do you wanna walk back to class with me after lunch?”

The piece of karaage nearly went down the wrong pipe, and he coughed violently, pounding a fist against his chest. “W-walk back with you? Yeah! Totally! I mean, yeah, sure. That’s cool.”

You laughed, standing up and grabbing your tray. “Alright, then. Don’t take too long.”

As you walked away to deposit your tray, Kirishima slumped forward, burying his face in his hands. “Get it together, man,” he muttered to himself.

But when you turned back to glance at him, your eyes meeting briefly before you gave him a little wave, his heart soared despite himself. Maybe next time…

Maybe next time he’d actually say it.

Weeks had passed since Kirishima had first worked up the courage to tell you how he felt. Or at least, he’d tried to. Each time, his nerves got the better of him, and what started as a firm resolve to finally confess ended with him fumbling over his words and making some excuse to leave. The poor guy had gotten so flustered that even some of your other friends were starting to notice.

“Is Kirishima okay? He’s been acting kinda weird,” Mina had whispered to you one afternoon during training, her eyes darting toward him as he hovered awkwardly near the punching bags.

You’d just smiled and shrugged, not wanting to out him. “Maybe he’s just got a lot on his mind.”

What Mina didn’t know was that Kirishima’s awkwardness was solely reserved for you. Whether it was the way his hands shook whenever he was near you, the way his voice cracked whenever he said your name, or the sheer panic in his eyes whenever you made prolonged eye contact, it was painfully clear to you what he was feeling. And honestly, you found it absolutely endearing.

Still, as much as you enjoyed watching him squirm, you figured it was time to give him a break. He’d tried, really tried, and you appreciated the effort even if he couldn’t quite get the words out. So, you decided to take matters into your own hands. After all, relationships were about balance, weren’t they? If he couldn’t say it, then you would.

The timing couldn’t have been better. The day was warm and golden, the late-afternoon sun casting a soft glow over the courtyard where Kirishima was sitting alone on a bench. You’d spotted him from the hallway and couldn’t help but smile to yourself. He looked so peaceful, his red hair catching the sunlight and his eyes fixed on the horizon as if he were deep in thought. You almost hated to disturb him. Almost.

“Hey, Kirishima!” you called, your voice breaking through the quiet hum of the courtyard as you walked toward him.

His head snapped up, and the peaceful look on his face was immediately replaced with a mix of surprise and nervousness. “Oh, hey!” he said, his voice just a little too loud. He quickly cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck, trying to play it cool. “Uh, what’s up?”

“Not much,” you replied casually, stopping a few feet in front of him. “Mind if I join you?”

“Of course not!” he blurted, practically jumping to scoot over and make room for you. He patted the empty spot on the bench, his face already starting to turn pink. “Have a seat!”

You chuckled softly as you sat down beside him, noting the way he seemed to be holding his breath. He was always so animated around his friends, so sure of himself, but with you? He was like a different person entirely—shy, uncertain, and utterly adorable.

“So,” you began, turning to look at him. “You’ve been a little quiet lately. Everything okay?”

“Me? Quiet?” He laughed nervously, his hands fidgeting in his lap. “Nah, I’ve just been, uh… you know, busy. With training and stuff.”

“Right.” You raised an eyebrow, not buying it for a second. “You sure that’s all it is? You haven’t been avoiding me or anything, have you?”

“What? No way!” His eyes went wide, and he sat up straighter, his expression almost comically earnest. “I’d never avoid you! I mean, why would I? That’d be, like, super unmanly and—and—”

“Kirishima,” you said, cutting him off with a gentle smile. “Relax. I’m just teasing.”

“Oh.” He let out a nervous laugh, his shoulders slumping as he realized you weren’t actually accusing him of anything. “Right. Teasing. Cool.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at how flustered he was. “You’re so easy to mess with,” you said, nudging him playfully. “But seriously, there’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about.”

“Y-you have?” His voice cracked slightly, and he cleared his throat again, his fingers gripping the edge of the bench. “What is it?”

“Well,” you began, turning to face him fully. “I’ve noticed that you’ve been acting a little… different around me lately. Like, you’re nervous or something. And I think I know why.”

His face turned bright red, and he immediately looked down at his lap, his hands clenching and unclenching. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he mumbled, though his voice lacked conviction.

You smiled, leaning in slightly to catch his gaze. “Kirishima. It’s okay. You don’t have to say it—I already know.”

His head shot up, his eyes wide with panic. “You—you do?” he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I do,” you said softly, your heart pounding in your chest as you spoke. “And just so you know… I feel the same way.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, his mouth opening and closing as if he were trying to find the right words but couldn’t quite manage it. His cheeks were blazing, his eyes shining with a mix of disbelief and hope.

“Y-you mean it?” he finally managed to choke out, his voice trembling. “You really mean it?”

“I really mean it,” you said, your own cheeks warming as you smiled at him. “I like you, Kirishima. I think you’re sweet, and kind, and brave, and… well, I just really like you.”

He blinked at you, his hands gripping the bench so tightly that his knuckles turned white. Then, all at once, the tension seemed to leave his body, and he let out a shaky laugh, his shoulders relaxing as a huge, goofy grin spread across his face.

“I—I can’t believe this,” he said, his voice still shaky but full of joy. “This is… this is the best day of my life.”

You laughed, feeling your heart swell at the sight of him looking so happy. “I’m glad to hear that,” you said softly. “But, um… there’s one more thing.”

“What is it?” he asked, tilting his head slightly.

Instead of answering, you leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. His entire body went stiff, his eyes going wide as his face turned an even deeper shade of red. When you pulled back, you couldn’t help but giggle at the stunned expression on his face.

“Sorry,” you teased, standing up and giving him a playful grin. “Was that too much?”

“N-no!” he said quickly, scrambling to his feet. “It was—it was perfect! You’re perfect! I mean—uh—this is perfect! Everything’s perfect!”

You laughed again, reaching out to take his hand in yours. “You’re adorable, Kirishima. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Y-yeah!” he stammered, his voice cracking again as he tightened his grip on your hand. “See you tomorrow!”

As you walked away, his hand still warm in yours, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself. You’d made the right choice in confessing first. And judging by the way Kirishima was still standing there, staring after you with a lovesick grin on his face, you had a feeling this was the start of something amazing.

Feel free to request <3

[urlocalmultigroupfan]

mean it

pairing: kim seungmin x fem!reader

summary: based off of mean it by lauv <3

tags/warnings: reader is angry at seungmin, seungmin is vulnerable (wowwww)

a/n: hi guys <3 this isn't enough, i know, but im doing my best <3 i haven't been feeling my best lately (mentally) i'll get pt 3 of its okay, im okay soon <333

masterlist

The city lights blurred into streaks of gold and white through the rain-splattered window. You sat in the passenger seat, hands curled in your lap, your heart heavy with a question you weren't sure you wanted to ask.

Seungmin gripped the steering wheel loosely, his eyes fixed on the road ahead, but you knew he felt it too—the weight of something unspoken settling between you like a fog neither of you wanted to clear.

"Do you even mean it?" you finally whispered, your voice barely audible over the hum of the radio.

Seungmin’s fingers tensed for the briefest moment before he let out a sigh. "Mean what?" He knew what, but he wanted you to say it.

You swallowed, turning to look at him. "When you say you care. When you say you miss me." Your voice cracked at the last part, betraying the way your heart clenched inside your chest. "Or do you just say it because you think it's what I want to hear?"

The car slowed as he pulled into an empty parking lot, the rain tapping against the windshield like impatient fingers. He turned toward you, his expression unreadable in the dim glow of the dashboard lights.

"Is that what you think? That I don't mean it?" His voice was softer now, but there was something else in it—hurt, maybe.

You looked away, exhaling shakily. "I don’t know. You’re always busy, and when you do have time, it feels like you’re somewhere else. Like you’re saying all the right things, but they don’t feel… real."

Silence stretched between you, the kind that made your chest tighten with the possibility that maybe, this was it. Maybe you were right. Maybe he didn't mean it.

But then, Seungmin reached out, his fingers hesitating before they curled around yours. "I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it," he murmured, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. "I know I haven’t been good at showing it, but that doesn't mean I don't care. It doesn’t mean I don’t—"

He stopped himself, biting his lip. The vulnerability in his eyes made something inside you waver.

You wanted to believe him. So badly.

"Then show me, Seungmin," you whispered. "Because I can’t keep guessing."

He nodded, determination flickering in his gaze. "Okay," he said, squeezing your hand. "Let me prove it."

And for the first time in a long time, you let yourself hope that maybe, just maybe, he really did mean it.

hope yall enjoyed <3

today's writing playlist....

(they long to be) close to you by the carpenters, toxic by britney spears, can't take my eyes off you by the boys town gang, campus by vampire weekend, heartris by niziU, mama said by kickflip, umm great by kickflip, hot to go! by chappell roan, pink pony club by chappell roan, casual by chappell roan, femininomen by chappell roan, sunroof by nicky youre, hell n back by bakar, yoga by bbno$ and rebecca black

*bold is explicit*

my playlist

taglist is open! please comment if you would like to be added <3

VERYYYY friendly warning to those who vote naur 😇

[madthetruemad]

There is No Law that Emperors Must be Fair

Emperor ! Jing Yuan x Princess ! Reader

Chapter 23 | Day of Rest

You are set to marry the Emperor, Jing Yuan. In order to break the engagement, you stage an accident and fake having amnesia. But now, your own cruel, cold, and distant fiancé, who seemed to not want anything to do with you, is now acting all lovey dovey!

Fic Masterlist

The trip home was relatively quick. Though, you spent most of it sleeping.

However, once home Boothill had promised his weapons to you and said that if you ever needed him, then he would be by your side, to which you were quite thankful for. As for Gepard, he kept looking at you strangely, as if he wanted to say something, but didn’t have the courage to.

Until you just about snapped at him as you two walked to your father’s throne room.

“What is it, Gepard?! You’re driving me crazy with all your staring! Usually you would say something by now.”

He finally, finally looked away from you, “I’m sorry…”

You frowned at him, but any questions you had for him died in your throat when you walked into the throne room.

Sunday sat on your father’s throne, his elbow propped up on the arm of the throne whilst his chin rested in his palm and his legs crossed at his ankles as he stared you down.

“Princess, I’m so happy you could make it.”

“B- but- but how?”

A part of you wanted to believe this was another illusion, but with the way you r father was standing next to Sunday, you knew that he was really in front of you.

You went to take a step back, but Gepard had grabbed a hold of your arms and pushed you forward so you were directly in front of him.

“How indeed…”

You swallowed, “I thought- I thought you said you needed Blade and the keys…”

Sunday smirked down at you from his place from the throne, “you really need to stop being so naïve, princess. It’s starting to get easy to trick you.”

“Then-“

“I never needed a new body to revive as I would have just used my old one as it was already partially ascended into an aeon it didn’t rot nor decay which allowed my soul to travel back into it.”

“And the keys?”

“Those weren’t for me. They were for Jing Yuan. His power was locked away when I was gone.”

“Then why did Blade and Dan Heng want to steal the keys so bad?!”

“They knew their Emperor wouldn’t unlock his power himself, so they thought they would have to do it for him.”

“I don’t… I don’t understand.”

Sunday motioned you to come up to the throne whilst dismissing both your father and Gepard, and as you watched them leave, neither would look back at you. You wondered if it was shame or regret that kept them from looking back.

So, you stepped forward, and when you were close enough Sunday brought you into his lap. The hand that was running through your hair was anything but comforting.

“Tell me everything that you lied about,” you whispered quietly.

“When I was disposed of and sealed away Jing Yuan knew that his power would be too great and sealed it away in hopes that when he tears through the world it wouldn’t leave such big scars, but of course, Jing Yuan was still so powerful. So, your father and others have snuck around in the darkness to reawaken me in hopes of saving them.”

“When did you reawaken?”

“Guess.”

You thought for a moment as your head rested against his chest, “when Gepard came to the castle.”

“Look at how smart you are.”

You resisted the urge to hit him, “the why send the key that Jing Yuan needs? Why-?”

You stopped yourself. The answer was already there as Sunday, with his free hand brought out a similar key that used to be around your neck.

“That one was a fake… this is the real one. Once I came back, I immediately started to prepare to bring you back here. I planned to either have Feixiao do it by force, to have Gepard sneak you away, or something else entirely. Though, Jing Yuan letting you go himself was certainly a surprise.”

“Why did you want me to befriend Blade?”

“Both to throw you off and to lie to you, but… I also felt he was a good friend in the first life you had.”

“How many allies do you have?”

Sunday stopped petting your hair then and moved to tilt your chin up to look up at him, “as many nations and countries that Jing Yuan has conquered. His search for you was his very downfall.”

You closed your eyes, but his hold on you was starting to hurt.

“Open your eyes, I want to see you fully,” he softened his grip on you, “so, princess, any more questions for me?”

You thought everything over. How it was Jing Yuan manipulating time, how Sunday played you for a fool, how you don’t even know who your allies are, and how… how you’ll die in this life too.

“Will it hurt?”

You noticed how his gaze softened, “your death will be quick, I can promise you that much.”

"Then put me to rest."

[newtonsheffield]

I love that they still pay Sophie though even when she literally becomes the kids auntie. I know in big families someone's always around to watch somebody's kid but labor is labor, childcare is HARD, and just because you're family doesn't mean you don't deserve to be compensated! She's also just... objectively the best at it in the family I mean she has a degree.

im also still not over "my Soph", do the other kids start doing it too? Does Neddy reject sharing or does he not care? Does Sophie love reminding Neddy for the rest of his life how preciously possessive he was as a baby?

I don’t think it’d even be a question for Kate and Anthony. Before she married Ben that was her career. She’s got a degree. They’re damn lucky to have her slowly introducing the alphabet into Neddy’s routine alongside them and helping him do sensory play!

Neddy does love calling people his. Like all big siblings it takes him a second to adjust to the idea that he needs to share his things and his people with Miles when he comes along but he’s also pretty used to sharing with Greggy and Hy at that point. Greggy and Hy go out with him and his Daddy sometimes because Poppy Edmund’s not here anymore but they have an Anthony as well. With regards to HIS Soph, Benedict did not think his biggest problem would be Neddy. He expected it to be Anthony, bodily shielding Ben from Sophie so he didn’t make it awkward meaning Anthony would possibly have to find a new Nanny. But no. It’s Neddy. For the first time Benedict appreciates how similar Neddy is to Anthony when Neddy looks unimpressed at the flowers he’s picked out for Sophie.

“They’re not very big.”

Ben rolled his eyes, “These are like the biggest in this shop, Mate.”

“My Daddy gets bigger ones for Amma all the time. He says she deserves them because she’s pretty and she loves us.”

Ben sighed, “Well your Daddy’s obviously richer than uncle Benny.”

“You’re not being a good boy for my Soph. She might not want to be your friend anymore.”

Benedict sighed, dropping the bouquet back into the water and picking up a bigger one, “Happy, Neddy?”

“Happy!” He grinned, “Can I get Choccy milk?”

“Bloody Charlatan.” Ben muttered under his breath. “Obviously, mate. When have I ever been able to say no to you?”

Sophie obviously loves all of her nieces and Nephews but she has a real soft spot for Neddy, she can’t deny that. He was her first sweet little boy. And he still is, even at sixteen when she’s chaperoning a dance with Kate and he’s clearly flirting with a gaggle of girls in the corner.

“Remember when he was a tiny baby? And used to call me his Soph.” Sophie sighed to Kate who let out a sad noise of her own.

“He was my sweet little angel. Now he’s so much like Anthony.”

“Stop pretending that’s a bad thing.” Sophie chuckled.

“I’m not! I’m just saying: Anthony was a charmer and I should have known his son would be a menace!”

[gayspacepiratesss]

TL; DR: Saving Minrathous allows Neve to hope.

(Saving Treviso allows Lucanis to forgive, but that's another story for another day.)

***

Every companion in DATV hits a character crux during the game, but Neve's and Lucanis's characters -- being linked to the cities they love -- are especially interesting to me.

In particular I think Neve's character is a brilliant navigation of the issues the devs faced in representing the Tevinter Imperium. In previous games, Tevinter is an ancient shadow empire of blood mages and oligarchy; if Ferelden is roughly medieval Britain and Orlais is roughly medieval France, Tevinter is the remnants of the ancient Roman empire, with a hefty number of Nero-like rulers (sadistic, debauched, unchecked) still in residence.

So: how do you make that a place the player can root for? You write the story of the resistance. The anti-slavery Shadow Dragons make sense as Rook's allies, and their work is important. But Neve is how DATV tells the story of Tevinter's losers: the vast majority of regular people, who aren't mages or oligarchs or magisters, but still have to get by in this violent, corrupt place.

Neve has been manipulated and disappointed by institutions her whole life (like, let's be real, most poc and women and lqgbtq+ folks irl). She has enough privilege to protect herself: she's a mage born in a world that prizes magic. But she's not rich, and she's too fiercely ethical to take the shortcuts that would allow her to accumulate power. If you travel with her long enough, she'll tell you about the relatives who were only kind to her because they wanted to use her status as mage, and the uncle who was different. When she's in Lucanis's family home in Antiva, he complains about decorating, and she tells him her entire Minrathous apartment could fit in one room. Her clothes are well-tailored because she knows that looking good is a kind of power, but she'll explain to Bellara that it's not because she actually HAS rich patrons; she just dresses to look as if she might. She knows how to use the theater of wealth, but at the end of the day she's firmly working class, surviving off street food and bad coffee above a second-rate bookshop.

Neve loves Dock Town, sees how badly Tevinter's institutions have failed her community, and is deeply, fiercely protective of the weak and the vulnerable. If you drop a coin in a beggar's plate, she'll drop one too, and ask if they have shelter for the night. Hal insists he owes her free fish, but notice: every time, she says "Sure, next time, Hal," and pays him anyway. She knows he can't afford to give away business, but she'll never embarrass him by pointing this out. This is the same instinct that makes her so sweet to Bellara back at the Lighthouse: her elvhen fangirl is an open book, completely emotionally vulnerable, and Neve is immediately ready to look after her.

(It's also the instinct, I think that keeps her from confronting Rook about [redacted for spoilers] -- how terrifying would it be to fall for someone with that much of a blind spot?? But she's not going to kick Rook while they're down, and she can't help being drawn to them. Like, her fear is justified. It's not a great start to a relationship.)

But Neve is also a realist: she knows she CAN'T protect everyone, no matter how hard she fights. Over and over she's seen bad actors like Aelia slip through the cracks, and good guys like Brom (who ... maybe she had a thing for? some of her notes, idk) get killed trying to make it right. So when Rook meets Neve, this is the open question for her: CAN you make the world a better place? Can you illuminate the dark corners, and lift up the downtrodden, without compromising your own values? Or is it always already a hopeless proposition?

If Rook saves Treviso, and lets Minrathous burn, that's Neve's last straw. She stops looking. There's no way to be better than the Archon or the magisters, and so she'll join the Red Threads to beat them at their own game. Unlike Lucanis, she's still romanceable in this state, because ultimately she's still fighting for the things she loves; she just doesn't really believe in the future anymore. There's a pretty sad version of Neve's story in here, especially if you choose her to dismantle the wards in endgame. It's possible for her to lose everything she ever believed in. I've seen a lot of angry people complaining on the internet that her line at the end of her last companion quest -- "This is MY city now" -- is aggressive and cliché, but these people seem mainly to have saved Treviso and to not understand, as a result, how Neve's character is limited by the circumstances they've engineered. The complaint that her voice acting is hard, guarded, or flat is missing the point: her PERSONALITY is hard, guarded, and flat unless and until you help her believe that gentleness can be rewarded.

If you SAVE Minrathous, I think, Neve's character can have the most beautiful arc -- and her romance makes the most sense here, because as she begins to hope that her efforts in Dock Town might actually make a difference, she also begins to let her guard down. Both these things scare her shitless. Being visible (letting the citizens of Dock Town SEE her fight for them, letting Rook show her some risks are worth taking) is really scary. But if you save Minrathous, Neve begins to hope that there's a future for the soft, sweet, and vulnerable creatures of the world -- and that includes herself.

When her voice starts to crack in the later romance scenes, when her brow crinkles with anxiety and her eyes go wide and soft -- that's the reward for saving Minrathous. That's Neve Gallus with a future.

[flickeringquip]

Convince the Fighter abstinence is bad for his health. There may be consequences(?) <<

Part 2 of this post, feat. @thedolmainblog's Blythe

(smut continues below the cut + link for the full nsfw aster pic)

(full & uncropped picture here)

(1) Arrive at Blythe's flat.

It's only when the engine cuts out from beneath you that you realize you're shaking, clinging to Blythe as tightly as you can. It would be easy to assume it was from some manner of fright or nerves from the reckless ride—

But it was certainly not fear that had your face burning beneath your helmet, caught somewhere between dazed by the experience and mortified at the very real worry you'd left a stain on the leather seat of Blythe's bike.

Blythe who disentangles himself from you with little difficulty despite your death grip, dismounting in a smooth, practised motion before turning sharply back in your direction. A few seconds later finds you free of your helmet — and realizing all at once that he hadn't worn one.

"You shouldn't ride one of these things without a h—" The concerned admonishment slips free of you before you even really think about it, but your scolding is interrupted when the Fighter hoists you onto his shoulder like a particularly prized sack of potatoes, your voice pitching high as you cling to the back of his shirt, "—elMET!"

(1) And once again you're along for the ride as Blythe makes for his apartment with the same single-minded focus as before.

You expect this ride to be much shorter than the last, and it is, but you can't help but be a little confused when you aren't set down as Blythe steps into his apartment like you'd been expecting.

It's a confusion that only grows when you remain slung over his shoulder as he locks his door. As he crosses the length of his apartment. As he steps into what you assume to be his bedroom.

He only lets you down when it's to drop you the short distance to his bed, leaving you to blink up at him as he whips his shirt off and tosses it somewhere out of your line of sight.

(1) Get a little distracted ogling Blythe's chest and biceps.

Look.

The man is shredded.

You may be a little restrained compared to some other residents of this hell hole, but you do have eyes. Eyes that are all too happy dip as Blythe shoves his trousers down his hips, and you aren't sure if he had simply skipped on boxers or if they went down with the pants, but it's a question that'll have to wait, because—

(1) Turns out Blythe was very proportional.

In the span of time it takes for you to force yourself to stop gawking at him, Blythe closes the distance between the two of you once more, stripping you from the top down with the same ruthless efficiency he'd rid himself of his own clothes. The last to go are your own pant and panties, tugged off in one go that leaves you splayed on your back on his bed, more exposed in front of someone than you've been in a long time.

"It's-" Your tongue sticks to a suddenly dry mouth as you push yourself into a seated position just in time for the Fighter to lift one knee to the bed — your voice pulls his attention up from your body so fast it almost startles you, the intensity in his gaze more than enough to have you squirming a little beneath his attention, "It's been a bit for me, that is, since the last time I, y'know— I mean, not as long as it's been for you of course—"

After transitioning to working for Landry full time, you had seen no need to continue doing sex work on the side; working for the Criminal had proven more than profitable enough, and you didn't even have to see Bailey's stupid face anymore thanks to automatic deposits. And without that pressure to constantly have to make more money, you simply had found your interest in sex greatly reduced.

You weren't unhinged about it like someone — and besides, you weren't part demon, so it's not like being abstinent would've even hurt you the same way — but it wasn't uncommon for you to go months and months between your little dalliances. You'd never experienced sexual attraction quite like most of your peers, and you found that now that it wasn't a transaction, you generally needed to get to know the person before you'd even really think about sex.

(1) Which was really all to say: you weren't fitting him anywhere without some prep first.

The moment you opened your mouth to offer to handle it yourself (look, you'd never really gotten the hang of the whole 'rely on others' thing), a yelp stole free of you instead. Why?

It probably had something to do with how Blythe grabs your thighs and yanks you towards the end of the bed, looking for the world like he'd heard the words you'd been about to say and found them truly, deeply insulting.

And then his gaze dips between down to your legs as he hoists each of your thighs over one of his shoulders, you, well—

(1) You're not sure what's going to kill you faster: the sudden shocks of intense arousal or the overwhelming embarrassment.

And you just wanted it on the record that you're hardly some blushing virgin, and while you have far more experience giving oral than receiving it, you had been eaten out before. It was just. . . a long time ago. By a client you really hadn't liked much.

And yeah, fine, you are blushing, but it's because this is Blythe, who you'd formed something resembling a friendship just by proxy of co-existing in the same spaces long enough for you to get a little attached — even if you hadn't really thought he felt the same. It had never bothered you, if the people you cared about reciprocated the feeling; you'd managed to shake the guilt over the years, but the caretaking habits had held fast. And it had been nice, knowing someone else who had clear, simple loyalties — him to Aiden, you to Landry. You didn't have to really worry about navigating weird backstabbing bullshit, and if down the line your respective employers' relationship turned sour, well. . .

. . .There wouldn't have been hard feelings, at least.

(But wow, that's an anxiety that's gonna haunt you later, isn't it?)

Which was ALL to say, you think you have a pretty solid grasp on what's about to happen as Blythe yanks you a bit closer, close enough that the feel of his breath has your thighs jolting a little overtop his shoulders.

(1) It only takes one lap of his tongue for those confident expectations of yours to Go Out. The Fucking. Window.

Because you were so wrong, holy shit, you were so wrong it's not even funny, you hadn't even come close up realizing what you were in for—

But how could you have possibly known he'd be this good? That it would only take a couple minutes for you to be squirming something fierce in his hold, mewling as his tongue laves through slick, sensitive folds to flick against your clit. That it would take barely a few minutes more to find yourself cumming embarrassingly fast, hips jerking fruitlessly in his hold as he keeps your climax going for as long as physically possible, pausing only when you slump in his hold, breathing hard.

". . .Why on earth are you so good at that?" The words spill out of you as soon as you have enough air for them, an arm tossed up and over your eyes because you aren't sure you could survive whatever sight he must make between your legs right now, "You've been abstinent for like— Ack!"

The startled squeak that leaves you is far from dignified, but that's a hard thing to maintain when Blythe slides your thighs off his shoulders — only to push them up towards your chest instead, making use of your flexibility to all but remove your ability to squirm and wiggle as he holds you in that position with just his hands.

. . . It's both a little insulting and incredibly enticing how little effort it takes him to keep you pinned down like this.

(1) That's the last coherent thought you have for awhile, because—

Blythe isn't satisfied with only making you cum on his tongue once. The man eats you out like a man posssessed, and each new noise he pulls from you only seemed to encourage him. And when he closes his lips around your clit with a moan that you feel all the way to your core and you're all but thrown into your next orgasm, he works you through it and keeps going until the next one, until your thighs are trembling in his grasp and you keen loudly enough for the sound to echo throughout his room. It's only then that he at last pulls away, and even the groan that escapes him is enough to have you whimpering from sensitivity.

Your legs feel like jello when he finally releases them, pleasure long having robbed your limbs of any semblance of strength. For all that you haven't really done anything, you feel like you've run a marathon, flushed and panting. Blythe's palms are rough against your skin as he smoothes his hands down the backs of your still faintly-trembling thighs, a soothing gesture—

And one that is very at odds with the salacious way he licks his lips and the ravenous glint in his eyes.

(1) Which is obviously a great time for you to realize that you had yet to even really touch him, let alone help him release all that pent up stress form his abstinence.

"Do you want—" A true seductress you are, truly a vixen to be feared, your words winded and blurted as your hand meets his thigh and sweeps upwards, "I could suck you off—?"

Your fingers don't quite get to brush against him before you find your hand caught in his grasp, a full-body shudder rolling down your spine when Blythe growls and guides both of your hands above your head, pressing both wrists hard into his sheets with one hand in clear command — stay — before letting go.

You- you stay.

"Next time," His voice is even rougher than usual, guttural in a way that would've made your thighs clench, had he not already reduced them to jello — he splays a hand over your belly that feels hot enough to brand, something in you coiling hot and tight beneath your skin, "Only place 'm gonna cum tonight is inside you."

(1) This man was going to fucking kill you.

A fact you become more and more sure of when Blythe hits you with that fucking bombshell and does not immediately fuck you into next week, because first he has to loosen you up a little first.

Any attempts on your end to convince him you probably don't need any more prep are utterly ignored as he works one, and then two fingers inside of you — and, to his credit and despite your assurances, even with you all but dripping off his wrist thanks to his earlier affections, there's just enough of a stretch to it to make you shift in discomfort.

And for all that you might have expected him to call you on being wrong about how ready you might have been, Blythe seems to instead throw all of that energy into actually accomplishing that goal. There's a level of meticulous care to the careful way he works you open that you wouldn't have thought possible for someone in his state, and it does things to you, things that have you clenching around his fingers with a shivery little moan.

(1) The sound seems to chip away at the remnants of restraint you're not even sure how he's been hanging onto.

Blythe fingers you through two more orgasms — once with his thumb pressing sinful circles around your swollen clit and another by fucking his fingers and curling them into a spot that makes your legs shake with every stroke — before you start to crack.

Like you'd been the one who'd had a decade-long stint of abstinence.

"—Please," There's just enough desperation in your voice to bring Blythe to a pause as he teased a third finger against your entrance, one trembling leg hooked over his forearm to keep you spread wide for his touch, "I'm ready, I-I promise I am, please Blythe, I want- I need you to—"

Blythe seems to freeze above you, but you keep pushing, because you're not sure how much more of this you'll possibly be able to survive but you know you have to at least accomplish the singular thing you'd set out to when you'd kissed him.

(1) "I need you to fuck me, Blythe, please—!"

Even if you hadn't already been spread too thin to have room for embarrassment, you simply wouldn't have had time to even feel things like that with how fast Blythe sets upon you. The words have barely slipped past your lips when you find them claimed, the kiss as ravenous as the man himself as he hitches your thighs up around his hips, the heavy weight of his cock a brand against your dripping sex that has you both moaning in tandem.

Blythe doesn't leave you in suspense, driven by a lust you barely imagine as he lines himself up and pushes forward with a groan so deep in his chest you can feel it through him and it's—

It's a lot.

Your arms twine tight around his neck as your legs squeeze tight against his hips, needing something to ground you against the almost dizzying sense of fullness as Blythe sinks deeper inside of you inch by agonizing, amazing inch. You realize at once why he thought to prep you to three fingers, but it is not pain that has your nails scrabbling against his back as you cling tighter to him.

It's the way every inch he sinks deeper has you pulsing around his cock; the way his weight above you presses you down into his sheets like he never wants to part from you; the way his lips suck bruising marks into your pulse; the way he sounds, the shuddering gasps and broken groans breathed right into your ear—

(1) And above it all it's the words spilling from him like the sweat across your brows, rough and breathless and adoring.

"Fuck, you feel—"

"You're so—"

"Perfect, fuck, Aster, you're perfect—"

And it's his fault, it really is, it's his fault because you're already so sensitive, so hyper-aware of his everything, and what right did he have to say your name like that? To talk to you like that? Of course you find yourself pushed to the very edge just as you feel him press flush against the back of your thighs, and realizing you'd taken every last inch of him does things to the both of you.

"Blythe—" Your voice quivers alongside the rest of you, his name nearly a keen as tension winds tighter in your middle, eyes squeezing shut as you tried to hold yourself together just a little bit longer—

(1) Only for them to fly open with a yelp at a stinging smack to your hip.

"Eyes on me," Blythe chooses then to begin to pull back, establishing a rhythm that's slow but deep as you shiver and squeeze around his cock, his words half-groan, half-command, "Want to watch you— cum."

His hips snap forward with a force that steals the breath from your lungs, feeling what scant control you'd mustered beginning to slip as you turn your burning cheek to the side despite his demand—

Only for the sound to taper off into a whimper when strong fingers catch you just under your jaw and turn you back to face him with a strength that brooks no room for argument and the barest little squeeze that sets your already racing heart beating even faster.

Your lashes flutter unsteadily, vision blurring as you desperately try to hold your pleasure at bay when every slam of Blythe's hips threatens to send you careening over the edge.

"Aster," One of his hands slips down from your hip, and your whole body jolts beneath with a stuttering cry as his thumb presses into your clit with tight, devastating little circles, "Cum for me."

(1) And damn him, you do.

A pleasure crashes through you that blinds you to all else; light splintering through a prism as waves of heat burn through your veins. Some distant part of you is sure you're going to be mortified by the noises you're making right now, sure to wake his neighbors, but you cannot stop them anymore that you could the climax currently shattering you to pieces.

And throughout it all, Blythe's rhythm only grows more desperate, the sordid sound nearly as loud as you as he fucks you deeper into his bed — and beneath it all, you can hear his voice, a strained mantra of curses as his fingers squeeze and shake around your hips.

(1) And all at once, even beneath the all-consuming tide of your climax, you're filled with a fierce, singular desire: make Blythe cum — isn't that why you'd come?

(a few times, at this point.)

"Blythe, p-please—" It's all you can do to mewl the words, your voice raw from all your cries and still shuddering through your own release; it takes everything you have to focus up on him with blurry eyes, to keep them on him like he'd wanted because you want to be good for him, "You p-promised— wanna feel you cum i-inside, please—!"

"Fuck—" He tenses above you, every muscle taut as his his hips slam into once, twice more—

Before a scalding heat bursts inside of you as Blythe makes a noise so relieved he sounds almost pained by it, fucking you through his orgasm while the feel of him has you whimpering a new, aftershocks of your own pleasure skittering up your spine.

(1) You all but melt into his sheets, feeling well-fucked and accomplished.

Blythe's lips meet yours in a kiss sweet enough to make your chest warm, hands rubbing up and down your sides as he breathes praise against your lips; how well you'd taken him, how perfect you feel, how perfect you are for him — and you ride an altogether different kind of high, a euphoria that has you shuddering as you coast along cloud-nine.

Before you can sink too deeply into the afterglow, all soft-limbed and sleepy-eyed even as the slow drag of Blythe's cock from inside of you, the spill of his cum making your face flush anew—

(1) You're startled back into full-alert as Blythe rises to his knees and rolls you onto your belly, pulling your hips back towards himself and pushing back inside of you with a groan.

"Blythe?" You shake and squeak below him, twisting to look over your shoulder in time to watch and feel him tug your hips higher, trembling thighs unable to support your own weight but so easily supported by his strength, "D-didn't you just—"

He does not start slow this time, setting a rough pace that quickly finds you keening into his pillows; you're just so sensitive now, pleasure bringing tears to your eyes as you squirm, only to yelp when Blythe answers your wiggling with a spank that makes you squeeze around him for reasons you aren't going to think about.

And then you hear a word you've heard once before tonight already, a pattern he's spent all night establishing as his fingers slip over your hip to find your clit, still flushed and swollen from his loving abuse—

"Again, love."

(1) And for the first time this evening you begin to realize the predicament you'd gotten yourself into. Good luck!

[corporationsarepeople]

On what to do now

(Shared by Ben Lowe on Bluesky)

A dear friend of mine asked me:

"Ben ... serious question: What the fuck do we do? We ordinary citizens without access to any real levers of power."

I wrote him a lengthy reply which he said he found helpful, so I thought I'd share it.

"Hey friend, it's indeed a dark time. This is fascism which relies on people being frozen with fear, and thinking they are powerless, and thinking they are alone.

One thing I’ve been trying to remind people is there is very little you can do, but that does not mean there is nothing you can do.

The Talmud says that when a wedding procession and a funeral procession come to an intersection at the same time, the funeral must yield to the wedding.

Because above all, we who are alive should celebrate life and being alive, and that we are still here in the world.

So the very first thing you can do is make sure people around you aren’t overwhelmed, that they can breathe, that they have sources of strength, that you find and recognize and allow moments of joy.

The second part is to refuse to be powerless. Look around your community. See the people and institutions that fascism threatens, and take steps to protect them. On a day to day basis, one of the most important ways of defending against what is coming are also some of the most mundane.

Yes, go to rallies and yes make calls and be visible and take actions of direct resistance. That all matters.

But between those moments, if public transit and libraries go unfunded, coordinate to give people rides and volunteer or loan your books. Tutor or pick up trash or perform public music.

Weave the world you refuse to allow to be taken away from you.

And prepare yourself now to help people who will be singled out by malice or neglect. Think about what you can do for them. And meditate on what you will commit to and how much danger you are willing to put yourself in. Will you hide people in your home? Will you stand in front of police?

Will you still speak up if we’re told we’re not allowed to?

These are impossible questions, of course. But we should all ask yourselves in earnest, now, what the person we hope each of us is would do in those situations, and make commitments before those moments come.

Finally, do not allow those around you to believe any of us is alone. Community saves lives. Connection brings hope.

As someone who has spent many years singing with others, I've seen the combination of tone in harmony is only part of the beauty; so much of it is the feeling of shared creation, of being a part of a whole that, once joined, cannot be meaningfully separated into its constituent parts.

Help those who begin to despair understand they are not alone, that you love them and that their existence matters. And do everything you can to prevent the growth of hatred and dehumanization in those around you.

It is so easy to give in to hate, to stop trying to understand the other. Even as resistance may mean bearing witness to true darkness, we cannot stop seeing the humanity in those around us.

This will be hard, but we aren't going to build a better world after this until we're able to do so.

And there will be better things after this. It is on us to lay that groundwork, even now.

And while it's completely unclear today what that will take, the one certainty is that it will require not just hope but faith in humanity to bring that world about.

Faith in other people is an act of defiance, and they can't make you stop if you refuse to.

Sending you love and hope and stubbornness from Brooklyn."

(And I'm sending that to all of you, too.)

Benjamin Lowe

benjaminlowe.bsky.social

[mintyys-blog]

BEFORE THE WAR— preserum! bucky barnes

WARNINGS: war, draft, pregnancy, character death.

Brooklyn, 1942

The streets of Brooklyn were alive with the sound of swing music drifting from open shop doors, the chatter of neighbors leaning out of apartment windows, and the occasional honk of a passing car. The summer heat had settled thick in the air, but nothing could stop the steady buzz of the city or the way Bucky Barnes walked beside you, hand tucked casually in the pocket of his slacks.

“You got any plans for the weekend, doll?” he asked, nudging your shoulder playfully as you strolled down the sidewalk.

You smirked. “That depends. You askin’ me on a date, Sergeant Barnes?”

His grin was instant, boyish and smug as ever. “Wouldn’t call it a date. More like me takin’ my best girl out to show her off.”

“Oh, is that all?” You shot him a teasing look. “And here I thought you actually wanted to spend time with me.”

Bucky laughed, the sound warm and familiar. He threw an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close as he pressed a quick kiss to your temple. “I always wanna spend time with you, sweetheart.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart still flipped the way it always did when he got like this—soft and sweet in a way only you ever got to see.

The two of you had been inseparable for as long as you could remember. Bucky was the boy who pulled your pigtails when you were kids, the one who taught you how to throw a proper punch when you got older, the one who made you feel like the only girl in the whole damn city.

And in return, you were his doll. His best girl. His soft place to land when the world got too rough.

“You wanna go dancing?” he asked suddenly.

You raised a brow. “Since when do you like dancing?”

“Since I realized it’s a real good excuse to keep my hands on you,” he said with a smirk, winking as he twirled you playfully in the middle of the sidewalk. You let out a laugh as you spun, the hem of your dress lifting before you landed against his chest.

Bucky held you there, his arms secure around your waist, his expression shifting from playful to something softer.

“You know I’d do anything for you, right?” he murmured.

The question caught you off guard. “What’s gotten into you, Barnes?”

His grip tightened slightly, just for a second, before he forced another easy grin. “Nothin’. Just makin’ sure my girl knows she’s special.”

You narrowed your eyes, sensing there was more behind his words, but before you could press further, he kissed you—soft, lingering, like he was trying to memorize the feeling.

And for now, you let it go, letting yourself melt into him, savoring the warmth of his touch.

Because whatever was on his mind, whatever weight he was carrying, you knew Bucky would tell you when he was ready.

At least, you hoped he would.

Brooklyn, 1942

The summer heat had faded into a warm, breezy evening, and the lights from the dance hall cast a golden glow on the sidewalk as you and Bucky stepped outside. Music still pulsed from inside, couples twirling across the floor, lost in the rhythm.

Bucky had been quieter than usual tonight. Oh, he still flashed that signature grin, still twirled you around like you were the only girl in the world—but something about him felt… off.

You noticed it in the way he held you, just a little tighter than usual. The way he looked at you, like he was trying to burn the image of your face into his memory.

And now, as the two of you stood outside, you watched him as he exhaled, rolling his shoulders as if trying to shake off whatever thoughts were eating away at him.

“Alright, out with it,” you finally said, crossing your arms.

Bucky glanced at you, his easy smirk flickering across his lips. “Out with what, doll?”

“You’ve been actin’ funny all night. Thought maybe you were just distracted by how good I looked, but now I’m thinkin’ there’s somethin’ else.”

His lips parted, but he hesitated—just for a second. If you weren’t paying close attention, you might’ve missed it.

Then, just as quickly, he was Bucky again, flashing that boyish grin as he leaned in. “You do look real good tonight, sweetheart.”

You rolled your eyes. “Nice try.”

Bucky sighed, running a hand through his hair. For the first time tonight, his mask slipped—just a little. “Let’s take a walk.”

That was never a good sign.

The two of you started down the quiet street, the sounds of Brooklyn still buzzing in the background. You walked in step with him, waiting for him to speak.

Finally, after a long pause, Bucky exhaled. “I got a letter.”

A chill crawled down your spine. “A letter?”

“From the draft board,” he said, voice quieter now. “They’re sendin’ me overseas.”

The world felt like it had been knocked off balance.

You stopped walking. “You— You’re goin’ to war?”

Bucky turned to face you, his jaw clenched like he’d been dreading this moment. “Yeah, doll.”

For a second, you couldn’t breathe. The noise of the city faded, replaced by the pounding of your heart.

“When?” you finally whispered.

“A couple weeks.”

A couple weeks.

You felt sick.

Bucky stepped closer, his hands gently settling on your arms. “I didn’t wanna tell you tonight. Wanted to give us one more night without it hangin’ over us.”

You searched his face, and suddenly all those little moments from earlier made sense—the way he looked at you, the way he held you so tight, the way he kissed you like he was afraid it’d be the last time.

Tears burned in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall.

“What if—” Your voice wavered, and you swallowed hard. “What if you don’t come back?”

Bucky cupped your face, pressing his forehead against yours. “Don’t say that.”

“But it’s true, isn’t it?” Your voice cracked. “People don’t come back from war, Bucky.”

“I will.” His voice was firm, steady. “I swear it, doll. I’ll come back to you.”

You wanted to believe him. God, you wanted to. But the fear dug its claws into your chest.

Bucky pulled you into his arms, holding you against him like he could shield you from the world. You buried your face in his shirt, inhaling the scent of him, memorizing the way he felt.

Because no matter what promises he made, war changed people.

And you weren’t sure anything would ever be the same again.

Brooklyn, 1942

A couple of weeks.

That was all you had left with Bucky. The thought sat heavy in your chest, a constant ache that refused to ease. But you didn’t want to waste time crying—not when every second with him was slipping away.

So you made a choice.

If this was all you had, then you were going to make the most of it.

The next morning, you showed up at Bucky’s apartment bright and early, swinging open the door like you owned the place. His mother barely blinked—she was used to you by now.

“James Buchanan Barnes, get your lazy behind outta bed,” you called, hands on your hips.

A groggy groan came from the other room. “Doll, the sun’s barely up.”

“It’s almost nine,” you corrected, marching into his tiny bedroom. “And we got things to do.”

Bucky was still sprawled out in bed, shirtless, hair a mess, eyes barely open as he peered at you. A slow smirk tugged at his lips. “Can’t we just stay here? I can think of plenty of things to do in bed.”

You threw a pillow at his face.

He laughed, rolling onto his back. “Alright, alright. What’s the plan, sweetheart?”

You hesitated for just a second, gripping the hem of your dress. “I don’t know yet,” you admitted softly. “I just wanna spend today with you.”

Something in Bucky’s expression shifted. He sat up properly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes before reaching for your hand. “Then we’ll do whatever you want, doll.”

The two of you spent the day wandering through Brooklyn, revisiting all the places that held meaning.

You stopped by the candy shop on the corner where Bucky used to sneak you chocolate bars when you were kids. The owner still recognized him and slipped you both a piece, chuckling as Bucky winked and said, “Some things never change.”

You made your way to the boardwalk, where the two of you had spent countless summer evenings. The salty air, the distant laughter of children, the old wooden planks beneath your feet—it was all so familiar, so comforting.

“Remember that time you pushed Steve into the ocean?” you teased as you both leaned against the railing, watching the waves.

Bucky grinned. “He dared me to.”

“He almost drowned.”

“Nah, he was fine.” He shrugged. “Besides, I jumped in after him.”

You shook your head with a laugh.

Then Bucky’s voice softened. “We’ve had some good times, huh?”

Your chest tightened, but you smiled. “The best.”

He exhaled slowly, drumming his fingers against the railing. “I don’t want you to sit around waitin’ for me, doll.”

Your brows furrowed. “What are you talkin’ about?”

“I mean it.” He turned to face you fully. “I don’t know how long I’ll be gone. And I don’t want you puttin’ your life on hold for me.”

Your stomach twisted. “You promised you’d come back.”

“I will,” he said quickly. “But I don’t want you to be lonely.” He swallowed, his voice dropping. “If you meet someone—”

“Don’t,” you cut him off, shaking your head.

Bucky looked at you with something between love and regret. “Sweetheart—”

“I don’t want someone else,” you whispered. “I want you.”

His throat bobbed, and for the first time, he looked truly lost. Like he didn’t know how to make this easier for you—for either of you.

Finally, he reached for you, pulling you into him. You melted against his chest, gripping the fabric of his shirt as if holding on would somehow keep him here.

“You’re my doll,” he murmured against your hair. “Always.”

You closed your eyes, letting the moment sink in, letting yourself pretend—just for a little while longer—that time wasn’t running out.

Because soon, it would.

And neither of you knew what the future held.

Brooklyn, 1942

The night before Bucky was set to leave, Brooklyn felt different. Quieter. Like the city itself knew what was coming.

You sat on the fire escape outside his bedroom window, legs dangling over the edge as you stared at the twinkling lights below. Bucky was inside, lying on his bed, tossing a baseball into the air absentmindedly. Neither of you had spoken much since dinner.

Because what was there left to say?

You sighed, gripping the metal railing tighter. “I hate this.”

Behind you, the sound of the baseball landing in Bucky’s palm stopped. “I know, doll.”

You turned to look at him. He was watching you, blue eyes shadowed with something deep and unreadable. Slowly, he sat up and patted the space beside him.

“C’mere,” he murmured.

You hesitated before climbing back through the window, settling onto the bed beside him. As soon as you were close enough, he pulled you against his chest, his arms strong and steady around you.

For a long moment, you just lay there, listening to the sound of his heartbeat.

“I don’t know how to say goodbye to you,” you admitted quietly.

Bucky let out a slow breath, his fingers tracing idle patterns along your arm. “Then don’t,” he whispered.

You lifted your head to look at him, brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… don’t say goodbye. Not like it’s forever,” he said, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I’ll come back, sweetheart. No matter what it takes.”

Your throat tightened. “You don’t know that.”

“I do,” he insisted, voice firm. “Because I have to. Because I got somethin’ worth comin’ back to.”

You swallowed hard, fighting back tears. “Promise me.”

Bucky cupped your face, eyes never leaving yours. “I swear it, doll.”

And for that moment, you let yourself believe him.

He kissed you then, slow and deep, like he was memorizing the feel of your lips. Like he was trying to leave a piece of himself with you. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, desperately trying to hold onto him—to this moment—for as long as you could.

The night stretched on, and neither of you spoke about tomorrow.

Instead, you let yourselves pretend that the world wasn’t changing. That when the sun rose, everything would still be the same.

But deep down, you both knew better.

And as you fell asleep in his arms, you wondered if you’d ever feel this safe again.

The years had been kind to Brooklyn, but they had been cruel to you.

The war had taken Bucky, or so they said. When the soldiers returned, they came in droves, but Bucky wasn’t among them. No body to bury, no remains to mourn. Just the cold, harsh reality that he was gone. You never got closure. Never got to say goodbye.

You had held on to hope for months, years even. The letters you sent, the prayers you whispered every night, the way you clung to every scrap of news you could find. But eventually, you had to face it. Bucky was gone, and you were left to pick up the pieces.

And then you found out.

You were pregnant.

The news had hit you like a freight train, but even in the devastation, there was a flicker of hope. Bucky had left a part of him behind—your son, James.

Raising him without Bucky was the hardest thing you ever did. The little boy had his father’s blue eyes, his smirk, and his unshakable sense of loyalty. You saw Bucky in everything James did. In the way he stood tall, the way he cared for those around him.

But there were nights when you cried yourself to sleep, wishing more than anything that Bucky could be there. He should have been. He should’ve been there to see their first steps, to watch James grow into the man he was becoming. But instead, you raised him alone, pouring all the love and care you had into him.

When James was older, he married and had children of his own, carrying on the legacy you and Bucky had started. But your heart never truly healed.

Then, on a quiet afternoon, years after you had passed, James was sitting with his own children, when the doorbell rang. It was a sharp, unexpected sound, one that made him frown in confusion.

When he opened the door, there stood a man—older, with a rough edge to him, but his eyes… those were unmistakable.

“James Barnes?” the man asked, his voice low and filled with a depth of emotion that James didn’t understand.

James blinked, taking a step back. “Who are you?”

“I’m your… father,” the man said, and James felt the words hit him like a physical force.

His father?

The words barely registered. His mind raced. He was supposed to be gone. He was supposed to have died in that war all those years ago. Yet here he was. James had seen photos of him… he looks the same.

“You’re… you’re him?” James asked slowly, stepping back further. He couldn’t believe it. The man before him looked like Bucky, but younger. His features were weathered with time, but those eyes, the same shade of blue that James had inherited, were the same.

“I had to see for myself,” Bucky said quietly, as if just being in the presence of his son was enough to break down years of walls.

James’ heart beat wildly in his chest. It didn’t seem possible, yet here was the man who had never come back, the man who had vanished without a trace.

“Mom… Mom talked about you all the time,” James said, his voice thick. He shook his head in disbelief, his hands trembling as he spoke. “She never stopped talking about you. She never let me forget who you were.”

Bucky’s throat tightened, the weight of those words hitting him harder than anything else. He had no idea. He had no idea that you had held onto him all these years. That you had kept him alive in your memory for your son.

“You— you never told me,” James murmured, stepping back as if still trying to process.

Bucky swallowed hard. “I couldn’t. I couldn’t remember who I was for so long. But now I do. And I had to come back.”

He looked at his son, seeing the resemblance in the set of his jaw, the curve of his smile, and even in the way James stood—proud, unyielding. He was Bucky’s son in every sense.

“I never thought I’d see you,” Bucky continued, his voice barely a whisper. “But here you are. All grown up.”

James stared at him for a moment before stepping forward. “Come inside,” he said softly, his voice cracking. “I… I think Mom would have wanted you to meet your grandkids.”

Bucky nodded, his heart heavy with emotion. He followed James inside, unsure of what came next, but knowing that he couldn’t go back to the past.

What mattered now was the future—the family he had missed.

And as he stepped over the threshold, into a world he’d lost so long ago, Bucky Barnes found himself home at last.

As Bucky followed James inside, the sounds of children’s laughter filled the air. James’ home was warm, the kind of place that felt full of life—just like you would have wanted it to be. The walls were adorned with family photos, many of them capturing moments of joy you had never gotten to witness.

James led Bucky into the living room, where two young children were playing on the floor, their faces lighting up when they saw him.

“They’re mine,” James explained, his voice softer now. “My son, Ben, and my daughter, Emma.”

Bucky stopped in his tracks as he took in the sight of them. Ben, a boy with messy dark hair and curious blue eyes, was standing at the toy chest, while Emma, a girl with your bright smile and Bucky’s cheekbones, was sitting beside him, her laughter filling the room.

It hit Bucky like a wave. These were his grandchildren. He hadn’t been here for any of it. For their births, for their first steps, for the bedtime stories.

James knelt down in front of them, his voice warm and affectionate as he called out to his kids. “Hey, you two. I want you to meet someone.”

Ben looked up first, squinting at Bucky with those familiar blue eyes. Emma followed his gaze, her eyes widening in curiosity.

“Kids,” James continued, his voice cracking slightly, “this is your grandfather. My father. His name is James—your papa.”

Bucky’s chest tightened at the word. Papa. He hadn’t thought he’d hear it, but hearing it now, spoken from his son’s lips, made his heart swell. He’d missed so much, but he was here now.

The kids blinked at Bucky, not entirely sure what to make of the stranger in their living room. But then Ben, ever the curious one, took a cautious step toward him.

“Papa?” the little boy asked hesitantly, his gaze flicking between his father and the man in front of him.

Bucky kneeled down, slowly, so as not to scare them, his heart thumping wildly in his chest. “Yeah, kiddo. I’m your papa.”

Ben’s eyes searched his face for a moment, before his lips parted in a hesitant smile. “You look like my daddy.”

Bucky chuckled softly, his heart swelling at the comparison. “I sure do, don’t I?”

Emma, ever the bold one, stood up and crossed the room, her little hands reaching for Bucky. “Can you play with us, papa?” she asked, her voice as sweet and innocent as any child’s could be.

Bucky’s breath hitched in his throat, and for a moment, he didn’t know what to say. He had missed so much of their lives, but seeing them—seeing his grandchildren—was the reminder he needed that he had something to live for.

With a soft laugh, he reached out, lifting Emma into his arms. “I’d love to, sweetie.”

As the afternoon passed, Bucky played with Ben and Emma, the sound of their giggles filling the house, and the weight of the years seemed to lift just a little. For the first time in so long, he felt at peace. He hadn’t come back to the life he’d lost—but in these little moments, with his children and grandchildren, he had found something that felt almost as important: a new chance.

James watched from the doorway, a small smile on his lips as he saw his father with his children. He couldn’t help but feel a surge of emotion—knowing that, despite everything, Bucky had come home.

“Mom would have loved this,” James murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

Bucky glanced over at his son, the weight of the years and the distance between them settling in. He cleared his throat, trying to push the emotion down. “I know she would have. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for her.”

James walked over, his hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “You don’t need to apologize. You’re here now. That’s what matters.”

And as Bucky watched his grandchildren, his heart filled with a bittersweet joy. He was here, and he would be a part of their lives from this day forward. He would never make the same mistake again.

He had a family now. A family that was waiting for him to be the father and grandfather they needed him to be. And with a full heart, Bucky promised himself he would never let them go.

[xx-zikeri-xx]

So I have a really embarrassing story about 11 year old phannie me that I was saving to tell dan and phil personally if I ever got to meet them, but I was just thinking about it and realized that I actually don't want to see their faces cringe at me in real life - so I guess I'll tell it here bc I need to be freed from this lmao

So from the ages of 8/9 to 12/13, kids in my school area had to participate in this club called 4-H, which I actually can't remember what we did other than a yearly presentation to teach each other something, but in my last year of doing it (circa 2015) I had been obsessed with dnp and I procrastinated coming up with an idea for the yearly presentation (I was actually planning on not going that day but my mother wouldn't let me stay home) and so at the last second, while watching dnp, I was like, "oh my god wait brilliant idea!! I can teach my classmates how to speak british!! They have words that mean different things over there, I can teach them that!!" And so I shittily put together a poster board from words I had heard from dnp and that I'd googled. I sat there and watched people actually teach things and knew I was going to completely fail up there, but I wasn't the type to defy authority (4-H person and my teacher) so I went up there, no notes, no plan, and read off my poster board. Everyone was dead silent when I stopped talking after a few minutes (it was supposed to last 5-15mins), nobody asked me any questions even though that's what we're supposed to strive for, and the 4-H person gave me a bad score, which normally would've been fine bc I didn't care about the club, but my teacher that year decided to use the scores as actual grades and I nearly failed that class (other factors were involved but that didn't help).

The kid who taught everyone how to make a paper airplane won first place, though I actually didn't learn how to and still don't know how.

[dundeey-art]

How would you interpret prowl as a romantic partner? Especially IDW prowl

my friend, this is the question of the century. youre asking me to answer one of life's greatest mysteries. every day i knock on my friend's barred doors, and i demand they answer my very same question...: How would you interpret prowl as a romantic partner?

now, if i was a writer, and if this was a headcanon blog, i would give you a neat little list of headcanons that would make your heart flutter. unfortunately i am not a writer, so i can in no way paint a beautiful picture of a world in which prowl is your lover in a sweet 200 words or less. instead i wrote a stupid essay for you that doesnt even answer your question... hah. after another hour of typing i actually did more or less answer your question

so, you say "especially" IDW prowl, but IDW prowl is unique (and all i think about), so this is just going to be about IDW prowl.

let me just say that i started writing and i couldnt stop, so i accidentally ended up with a bunch of bullshit that has nothing to do with what you asked. i kind of like the bullshit though, so i'm not deleting it. just scroll down until you see "the headcanons" if you want to skip past my nonsense.

i used to have trouble envisioning prowl as a romantic partner because of the way he's portrayed. i bold that last part because it is specifically the way he's portrayed that makes it difficult to envision him in a romantic setting, and not necessarily the way he is as a character. what i mean by that is that prowl is always shown to be in extremely stressful situations and in environments where the stakes and tensions are high. nevermind personality, we don't even get to see how he is when he's relaxed, when he's not under threat. i suppose we get a glimpse of that during the flashback that shows him working with chromedome, but even then he is 1. performing dangerous work and 2. shown interacting with someone who is more so a colleague than a friend. even then, that is a prowl from the past. we don't know if that is how he would still act "today" (by which i mean the end of IDW). since then he's gone through millions of years of war, and that doesn't just come with trauma, but all kinds of growth and change. so we can't just fall back to pre-war prowl for our headcanons - we have to focus on present-day prowl, trauma and all.

i also want to say that i don't like the way i see how a lot of people headcanon prowl as a romantic partner. again, because of the way he's portrayed, people tend to default to a cold, mean and distant partner. someone who lacks empathy, communication skills, something about "emotional intelligence"? i've even seen people headcanon that he would be abusive... yikes. i think what people tend to forget is that prowl is not a villain. he does act distant to the people around him, but that is a pretty common personality trait that a lot of normal people in the real world have. so while he can be a little rough around the edges, i'd say hes just a normal guy who is, just like anyone, capable of developing romantic feelings for someone. still, prowl has some key traits that are undeniably him, and i try to base my idea on that while staying as loyal as possible to the canon.

the headcanons

i don't see prowl as someone who would fall in love easily. but when he does, it's intense. prowl is shown to have one goal throughout the comic: it's to attain peace. that goal is his world. i think that in a similar way we can imagine how he might be when in love - his partner, the object of his desire, would become his world. i think he would love his partner with the same kind of intensity that he is shown to have in various situations.

i think he would like to have you rely on him; he likes to be depended on, to be trusted. he wants you to leave everything to him, and he would take good care of you. that's not to say that he wouldn't trust you to take care of yourself. however, he might have a tendency to be a little controlling and overprotective - but really, it's because he cares a lot about you. he wants to prevent harm from befalling you at all costs. he might have to learn not to be so worried about you all the time. can you blame him though, after everything he's seen? if prowl lost you, he probably would not be able to move on.

i can imagine prowl's lover, and love in general, having a certain effect on prowl. you bring a kind of warmth out of him. you make him let his guard down. when he's with the one he loves, he can finally relax. he's not under threat and he's not constantly being scorned - you are essentially his safe space.

the thing is that love can bring a side out of people that you might not normally see or expect. you can imagine almost anything within reasonable limits. maybe, as a lover, prowl is soft spoken and sweet. maybe hes playful. or maybe he's not one for verbal but physical affection. honestly, it was hard for me to tell you exactly how i imagine him as a romantic partner because i like nuance, and i like to be open minded to those infinite possibilities. still, i did my best to paint a picture for you. 👍 this just took me two hours so i hope you like it

[joyful-soul-collector]

wassup

i am not actually in arcane, can you explain to me what happened to the person who like turned into a cosmic mummy? who died and is still alive??? who the author/producer (?) cannoned as asexual in an attempt to make people stop shipping them with another guy but it failed?

that is my understanding of whats going on

love the fanart thats coming out of it tho

Pfft haha so his name is Viktor, and he's shipped with Jayce!

What happened to him is A Lot. He was born in a place called The Undercity/Zaun, and there was a ton of pollution and disease there, so he got real sick along with being born with a bad leg (they never explain exactly what disabilities he has but he's got em). He and Jayce worked together to try and help people with their invention of Hextech.

A VERY long story short, Viktor got Really Powerful with the hextech and became The Machine Herald (mummy guy). He almost destroyed the world. Until Jayce talked to him, and showed him what would happen if he did, and they stopped the end of the world together. This resulted in the both of them dying, but MANY people headcanon that they ended up in an alternate universe (as the show explored such a thing) and are living happily ever after there together. The death of the characters felt "right" in a way for the show, it ended in a thematic, good way for them overall.

That ending was very sweet and beautiful, and felt romantic watching it. Jayce decided he would die with Viktor, even though he had the choice to leave. If you want the full effect I highly recommend watching the show, it's quite amazing.

As for the guy who doesn't want them together, his name is Christian Linke, and he was a co-creator. He doesn't see their relationship as romantic, and did say that he sees Viktor as asexual. It does seem like he strongly disliked that they were shipped together.

Now, a couple problems with that:

Making Viktor asexual does not make him unable to be shipped with Jayce. Ace people can feel romantic feelings, they can even enjoy and have sex, this doesn't change that the feelings between Jayce and Viktor LOOKED to be rather romantic. Whether you see Viktor as ace or not is up to you. I personally don't but it really doesn't matter

A lot of shows and movies and Stories In General have a bad habit of making their disabled characters Non-Sexual. Especially in that they don't often get romantic partners, unless the story is ENTIRELY about a disabled person getting a romantic partner Despite It All. Disabled characters often are shown to never even feel the need for a partner, they're just there to Be Disabled in the story. There's a high chance Christian Linke is using "asexual rep" as a kind of excuse for why they kinda perpetuated this stereotype in the show. Viktor wasn't really there to Be Disabled, but he was very non-sexual, he didn't even have chemistry with the woman who apparently had a crush on him

This feels a lot like when JK Rowling decided Dumbledore was gay but never talked about it in the books. "Oh we have this rep, we just never showed it or talked about until after the story was over"

So yeah that's mostly it, lemme know if ya got any other questions haha