#and for anyone who it reached in a meaningful way

[its-no-biggie]

for your consideration: it's one scale from real person (yoo sangah) to kim dokja (not a real person nor a character, merely an outside observer) to fictional character (yoo joonghyuk). as a reader kdj feels some separation between himself and the characters of his favourite novel, but he also feels this separation between himself and the real world. fiction isnt real but the real world is like fiction. of course someone like him cant have a relationship with yoo joonghyuk, the hero of wos, and of course he cant have a relationship with yoo sangah, the heroine of real life. theyre equally out of reach to him in opposite directions.

and han sooyoung is the only one who sits in the center with him. (although a few characters get close - his mother from the real person side, and asuka ren from the character side.) who else can the reader interact with, but the author? of course, in a world made of stories, a writer is very literally outside of reality, in the same way as a reader. but even before that, kdj has been interacting with one specific author for over a decade now. and i dont think its a coincidence that the only person kdj has any kind of connection with in the beginning is tls123: not a person from kdjs real life, but not a character. someone who only exists in relation to fiction but isnt actually fictional. i wouldnt exactly call them friends, but kdj seems to be unguarded when talking to them in a way he isnt around anyone else (until han sooyoung).

and i think thats why the themes of orv work so well. its not about putting fiction over reality - kdj doesn't feel a more real connection with the characters than he does real people, even after fiction becomes reality. its that he thinks he cant connect with anyone at all, not realizing that reading is a type of connection between the reader and the author. that the author is a real person and the reader is a real person and sometimes the only way we know how to connect with each other is through stories, but that doesnt make it any less meaningful

also semi related to my last post but kim dokja keeps all his companions on a scale from person to character with han sooyoung at the extreme person end and yoo joonghyuk at the extreme character end. and you can use that to really examine what exactly those categorizations mean to kim dokja and how he acts around those people accordingly.

[lucky-clover-gazette]

happy one year anniversary to cbiuc

[jytan2018]

I read the comic in one sitting less than an hour after finishing the movie, and wow I have many Thoughts™.

- It's very obvious the two versions were meant to cater to different audiences AND tell different messages. I don't get why people are going "But the comic was better! It had more nuance!" just because Nimona was easier to root for in the movie.

- The comic was written back when ND Stevenson was still trying to process a lot of stuff, so all the characters are morally grey/straight up evil and the climactic battle is between a Ballister who regrets turning against Nimona, even if it was to save others vs. a Nimona who's too hurt to care if her lashing out was going to hurt innocent people.

- By the time Nimona got a movie adaptation, ND was a lot more secure in his sexuality, so the climactic battle was Nimona vs. the Director, the symbol of religious oppression and bigotry. It's not just about your friends turning on you because you're "too much" for them anymore, it's also about a society that would rather bring itself to the brink of ruin than coexist with you.

- (I totally get why people were upset about Ballister's surname change, though. Like come on, the media dubbing him Blackheart just to be mean was RIGHT THERE).

- Nimona's metaphor for not shifting is such a neurodivergent thing. Even in the comic, Nimona's parents insisting she's a monster who replaced their daughter is reminiscent of the changeling myth, which is what many parents thought their neurodivergent kids were—changelings who replaced their "real" children.

- Ambrosius being trained to cut off HIS BOYFRIEND'S WHOLE FUCKING ARM instead of merely disarming him is a very cop thing to do. As much as cops claim they're trained to de-escalate situations, their training still teaches them to treat everyone as a potential threat, and that level of constant vigilance can turn anyone into a trigger-happy/arm-choppy bastard. Even the Director, who can use a sword but probably hasn't actually fought someone in ages, STILL can't see Ballister reaching for the squire's phone without assuming he has a weapon.

- And on that note, the Queen getting killed simply because she was trying to reform the Institution and allow commoners to become knights? That's the best "no such thing as a good cop" metaphor I've seen. Because even if there ARE good cops and they ARE in leadership positions, the system will crush them before they make any meaningful change. It's not a good institution that turned rotten, it's an institution that only exists to spread its rot and refuses to be good.

- That's why Ballister's characterisation is so different in the movie vs. the comic. Comic Ballister had 15 years to come to terms with his trauma and the Institution's evildoing, while Movie Ballister is still freshly traumatised and hasn't found a way to define himself beyond the role he was assigned by the Institution.

- Not to mention Comic Ambrosius was not very noble to begin with and genuinely believed Ballister was better suited to villainy than heroism, while Movie Ambrosius never wanted the glory that came with his lineage in the first place and only antagonised Ballister because of indoctrination he needed to unlearn (which he did, all by himself, after witnessing the lengths the Director will go to just to kill Nimona).

- It really shows how important it is to surround yourself with loved ones who are open to change. Comic Ambrosius can love Ballister all he wants, but he'll still blast his arm off because he thinks Ballister deserved it anyway. Movie Ambrosius will stop to question what "the right thing" even means, even if he didn't love Ballister enough to defend him unconditionally.

I have so many more thoughts bubbling beneath the surface, but I'll probably address them some other day. In conclusion:

[ID: A pink-haired Nimona grinning evilly while holding up a knife.]

Watch Nimona. This is not a request.

Edit: Added more thoughts!

[tender-rosiey]

how would modern day sukuna be like a father? :o

nerves — ryomen sukuna x f!reader

a/n: no curses au, lovelies! thank you for being so patient MWUAH and of course, merry christmas to everyone who celebrates it!

when one thinks of sukuna, one thinks of a broad muscular man covered in tattoos with a sharp jawline and an even sharper tongue punching the hell out of anyone.

you never think of the same man carrying a pink glittery bag and his own little pretty princess.

“do you have your lunch box?���

“yup!”

he quirks an eyebrow, “you sure?”

your daughter nods excitedly before looking over her dad’s shoulder. she grins when she finally sees you and excitedly calls you over, “mama! ‘morning!”

a smile instantly appears you on your face as you make your way towards your little sweetheart, “good morning, baby!”

you take her into your arms—ignoring your husband—and you kiss her cheek, “you excited for your first day of school?”

“mhm!” she gasped suddenly, “mama, look at my hair! papa made it for me!” she giggles, proudly showing off her ponytail.

you look with a knowing look and a small smile at your husband.

sukuna frowns and looks away, “it was easy anyway,” he then glares at you, “don’t make a big deal out of it.”

you giggle and pad your way towards him, resting your arm on his shoulder and gently kissing his lips, “it’s a really cute deal, though.”

you lightly bounce your daughter in your other arm, “right, d/n?”

“yeah! papa is the best!” she cheers, hugging him tightly.

your husband groans, but—nonetheless—his arms are wrapped around you two, “you two are such drama queens.”

he leans slightly, mouth near your ear as he whispers, “you better give me a proper fucking kiss when we drop the brat off.”

you gasp lightly and smack his shoulder, “watch your language!” you watch him scrunch his face—most likely about to sass you—so you press a quick kiss to your daughter’s cheek then your husband’s.

you then push them through the door with a nervous smile, “okay, bye! have a great time and don’t forget that mama loves you!”

“I love you too, mama!”

of course, you would’ve loved to accompany your daughter to school, especially on her first day, but the darn office just happened to call for you right now.

sukuna knows that, and so does your cute daughter, so there is a reason why they were both so reluctant to leave.

anyway, back to the present.

your husband’s frown is still evident as he is robbed yet again from a ‘proper’ kiss. he picks your daughter up easily and then throws her in the car.

she, as always, finds it funny and starts laughing her little butt off. sukuna rolls his eyes, and gets into the car himself.

he puts on the playlist that your daughter made herself, and finally starts the car. the ride is quiet, if you don’t count the singing and screaming of your daughter.

of course, sukuna can’t do anything about it—even if he knows that he doesn’t want her to stop in the first place.

the school isn’t that far away anyway, so they reach it in no time. your husband skilfully parks in front of the gate and takes his seatbelt off.

he doesn’t hear hurried unbuckling of a belt or nonstop squealing and fidgeting, so he looks at his daughter, “what’s up?”

she fidgets with the hem of her shirt then speaks up, softly, “I am—scared.”

he furrows his eyebrow, turning his entire body towards her, “huh? why? you were so excited with your mom earlier and you were screaming my ear off about it yesterday.”

“I know,” she murmurs then frowns, “…but what if people don’t like me?”

sukuna is stunned for a moment. he isn’t the one to normally deal with your daughter whenever she needed deep or meaningful emotional advice.

that was what you did, especially since you are able to read your daughter pretty well.

but he tries his best cause he would be damned if he isn’t the best father. his hand is placed on her head, albeit a bit roughly.

she whines, “papa, my hair!”

he takes a moment, “I…” he starts then quietens down for a second, and even then, you’re daughter is looking intently at him.

he then looks at her again, “they will love you. you’re a good kid."

your daughter’s eyes widen at her dad’s unfiltered compliment. she beams, quickly unbuckling her belt and throwing herself into his arms.

her smile is so wide it almost hurts her, but her heart feels so full because of her dad’s praise that she couldn’t care about anything other than him.

he slowly starts patting her head, “and if someone bothers you, I will just beat them up.”

“mama said no violence!” your daughter scolds and almost on cue, your face appears on the screen: you’re calling!

looks like you managed to squeeze in some time to check up on her. your daughter swiftly presses on answer and chirps, “hi mama!”

“hi baby! why are you not in school yet?” you question, eyes darting towards your husband, questioning.

“papa wanted to get some food first, so we just arrived!”

sukuna is—internally—flabbergasted. this liar. he is about to interject, but then he ponders about it for a moment: maybe she doesn’t want you to see her hesitant about the whole school thing.

maybe she wants to appear strong—with no weak points—in front of her mother. then he breathes out a chuckle, at least she takes after him in something.

“sukuna! she could’ve been late!” you huff then sigh, “good thing that you guys moved early anyway.”

your eyes then focus on your daughter, “how’re you feeling?”

“excited!”

“any nerves or anything?” you ask knowingly, but she shakes her head.

she hugs sukuna tighter, “I was a little nervous, but papa made me feel better!”

you grin, “did he now?”

he notices the teasing glint behind your eyes and looks away to avoid your gaze. your daughter giggles at her dad’s behaviour, and so do you.

and your husband has never felt more teamed up on than now. she hears the bell rings, “oh! I gotta go now!”

“bye papa!” she kisses her dad’s cheek, “bye mama!” then kisses the phone’s screen. you blow her a kiss back, and she dashes out of the car, ready to start her day.

even while walking towards the building, she turns again to her dad and waves at him happily.

sukuna nods and she grins, switching her focus back on the school. his focus is on her intently, until you speak up, “I am proud of you.”

his gaze snaps to you, expecting a teasing smirk, but instead you’re smiling warmly at him. his heart contracts in a way that makes him feel weird, and he can’t find it in him to give you a snarky reply.

he groans, “she is my daughter as much as she is yours, y’know.”

you hum, “of course, she is,” he hears rustling on the other line, so he assumes you’re checking some papers before turning to him again, “she takes after you in more ways than one.”

“yeah, I noticed,” he says quietly, and you laugh.

he notices from the corner of his eyes his daughter laughing excitedly with a bunch of others girls, and he lets out a breath that he didn’t know he was holding.

you tap on your desk a little, “you nervous?”

“if someone hurts her, I will kill them.”

“I figured."

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copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

[anantaru]

I HATE EVERYONE BUT YOU

— ꒰ synopsis ꒱ — scaramouche has always been yours, yet he needs you to know that you'll always be his no matter what— even when you get all flustered while he shows you.

— ꒰ a/n ꒱ — in scaramouche we what?

— ꒰ wordcount ꒱ — 1.7k

— ꒰ warnings ꒱ — [ns]fw, fem! reader, jealous! reader, dom scara, rough sex but very passionate, scara hates everyone but you, slightly possessive scara, spitting, cumming inside of you

"you have nothing to worry about,"

"stop thinking about it and look at me," fingers gracefully trace on your bare skin, "because i need you to realize," drawing all sorts of shapes into your searing flesh, like subtle curves into your ribs, "that you'll never get rid of me," and lines dragging across your stomach when scaramouche's hand ultimately settles on your hips.

your stomach does flips at his words, and a fresh tide of relief cuts through your initial doubts. he grins and clicks his tongue, eyes dancing with amusement when he catches your shyness, "hm? what's up with you? where's this pretty voice of yours now?" and that smile, ugh, he cannot help himself but irritate you abundantly, especially when he knows how you'd react to his words.

"shut up," you hiss, "don't do that,"

"do what?" he cocks a brow, "—that?" he breathes, boldly as his thumb rolls over your clit in slow circles. the fire in his eyes was hard to miss and when he feels your body react to his loving trace, he's more than happy to indulge in those waves of lust— most notably show you that he'll never go away.

"fuck—" you whine, "you're mean," and you find out that his thoroughly chosen words would end up adding fuel to the looming wildfire burning between you both, the two of you high on the tension and rush smoldering the air.

and scaramouche's confessions were driving you into a spiral.

"careful there," he coos, "take it slow," for him, there was no competition, and even if there was a competition, you're not in it. you're above everything. you're perfect, no one could ever set his heart ablaze like you did.

scaramouche hums, "you're stuck with me." he candidly bites down on your bottom lip, "okay?" when you nod vigorously at him, your hips leaving the bed as your back arches into his digits, your hands finding immediate comfort in his hair as you tug softly at his roots to press his lips on yours.

scaramouche was pretty when he looked at you like that, kissed you like he needed you to survive— dreamily while flushed, his cheeks seething with scarlet redness when he inhales deeply for a moment.

but he's not used to all of this, and he didn't like the fact that you could become jealous sometimes— after all, humans suffer more in imagination rather than in reality, and you have nothing to worry about, scaramouche certainly thought he made that very much clear.

but he's embarrassed, although not because of the fact that he might've gotten too close to someone who wasn't you and experienced regret, which, in fact, wasn't possible.

he simply cannot stand anybody besides you.

truth be told, he's a little annoyed that you forgot about the fact that he wasn't a big talker per se, he even actively chose his schedule so he wouldn't see a lot of people, or anyone for that matter. scaramouche never sought out to make any meaningful friendships with the people of the akademiya as well— despite the god of wisdom helplessly attempting to push him out of his comfort zone.

with that out of the way, the real reason as to why scaramouche was embarrassed was quite silly, because it's due to what your jealousy did to him— fuck, he finds it beyond attractive, yet he refuses to acknowledge that a special heat conquered his chest like that, reaching his groin until he couldn't think straight.

there's a delicate challenge in your ways of reacting when he tells you that you mustn't be jealous, and scaramouche drinks it like water— he knows you're everything he's ever wished for, like ice cream on a hot summer day, you're melting his heart.

he nuzzles into your skin to inhale your scent, leaves soft kisses on your cheekbones while holding your jaw, making you look directly at him.

does he need to show you that he's utterly addicted to you? so, do you require it like a challenge of sorts? because archons, he'll do it, easy work easy done.

to note, it's not scaramouche's fault that people want to talk to him and are curious about the new addition to the akademiya— yet he doesn't like them, it's pestering when they get too close to him as well, ask if he could talk a little more about where he was coming from because they wanted to be nice, civil but end up making him scoff with a roll of his eyes.

enjoying his own company was fine to scaramouche— and he always found himself fantasizing about you all the time, particularly about your soft laughs and candid smiles, your voice, your stories and your understanding was like a sweet melody to the wanderer, and he could indulge in it during his breaks, before he needed to finish a mission, or he could imagine it every single night before he'd fall asleep to the thought of you.

your body was rubbing against his now, sweat colliding as he removes his fingers from your cunt and wraps them around his erection, pretty dark lashes accentuating his flaring cheekbones while you loop your arms around him— parting your legs a little so he could easily slide himself in.

scaramouche gently adds pressure on your tight hole before moving his hips, but it's slow— gentle and delicate that you can feel every crevice of his length in you.

a soft moan rips from his throat as you mold around him easily, feeling him attentively as he traces the thick vein along the side of your walls as your hips twitch at the slight sting deep in your abdomen.

scaramouche was as desperate as ever to show you his love through physical attention— and the word shame didn't seem to find a place in his phraseology when he forces your gaze back under his. "open and stick your tongue out," he taps, once twice, against your lips with his thumb, "wanna taste me, right? so do it now," while keeping his throbbing dick buried inside as he purposefully moves his hips a little to make you squeal.

you cannot help the way your lips curve into a smile before you're parting your lips, applauding his efforts to claim you. it's merciless when he bundles the saliva budding in his mouth before spitting on your tongue, his crystalline eyes open to catch your tremble— how can he not indulge in this? you're nothing short of perfect, pleading for him to give you more.

"show me," he commands further, groaning deep into his chest when he looks at his saliva melting with your own and how it's dribbling from your chin, his length twitching rapidly as you try to steady your breathing at the sinful scenario you're living through.

scaramouche's hands clench at your waist as he fucks you as passionate as he can, his cock pressing against the overstimulated bud in your pussy before starting slow circles with his hips, your mouth huffing out candid i love you's amidst your moans.

inch by inch he slides into you, in and out in rapid movements, the more you take the better it felt having him rub your pleasure spots he so desperately desired to feel suck on his shaft and milk the cum out of his cock. he finds it cute when your face suddenly scrunches up if he moves faster than previous, your jaw parting in awe at how much better it felt the more he upped his tempo to batter your sore pussy.

it feels good— it always does, and if being a little jealous here and there would always result in this, than you'd gladly play your part as much as he needed it. it's almost like you don't hear yourself moaning and spell out honeyed praises, too occupied to indulge on the way scaramouche rolled along your walls and the noises of his balls colliding on your skin over and over.

"fuck— you're gonna make me cum fast," scaramouche gasps, dragging his sensitive cock through you like you're made for him, as if it just fits and he doesn't need to prep you, which he in fact, really enjoyed doing as well.

frankly, nothing tasted as good as your pussy rubbing across his mouth.

one hand leaves your hips before he gives your clit a little attention, pressing through the curtains that protected your sensitive pearl as he rubs your slick over the sensitivity, smirking devilishly when you arch your back off the mattress and begin to shake, your walls spasming while being so perfect when milking his cock, your pussy dripping with slick as he toys with your clit.

you cry out a sound between a broken sob and sharp moan of his name and that's when scaramouche knows you're close too— swift when he drags his hand from your clit to intertwine his digits with your own as he fucked you into the bed, your pussy pulsing around him as your eyes scrunch shut when you reach your high, falling slack against the bed and whining out shortly when he warms you with the weight of his body.

"fuck— shit!," his hips faster, his breath quicker, "you're fuckin mine, mine, mine," scaramouche falls apart, ��panting against your ear and groaning lowly, his erection pulsing while constricted by your walls as he holds his cock deeply buried in you before thrusting back and forth once, twice, three more times as he spills his load into your pussy— his warm seed setting your belly on fire by how perfect it felt to be claimed in such lewd, passionate way.

"fuck," he breathes, "gonna stay like that for a bit,"

archons, it's so sticky— borderline filthy and shameless with every intention of it being like that. your tits were still bouncing up and down from the following, last thrusts of him pumping his precious cum into your hole and making sure not a single drop gets lost midway.

after a while of collecting your breathing and turning it evenly again, you giggle out, finding his darkened hair strands as you greet him with a wet, sloppy kiss, "wanna join me for a shower later?" you mumble, eyes half-lidded as he hums softly into your lips, "mhm, or i'll decline so you'll get mad at me, right?"

"i will bite you," you threaten, shaking slightly as he pulls himself out without warning to expose his drenched cock being weaved with your slick, the filthy mixture dripping along your inner thighs,

"please do, "i'm counting on it," scaramouche ends with a wink.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify, claim as your own

[littlemsshoney]

Hannibal falling in love

It is ridiculous how wrapped around your little finger he was.

From the first moment he laid eyes on you he found his new fixation. Every time you were in the same room with him his gaze was fixed on you, observing silently every detail, getting to know you before you were even introduced.

Of course he would be very careful, almost suspicious of any new person being added to his social circle. For a man obsessed with his social image he had to be cautious of any potential competitor and you were just lovely. So charming, well educated, funny, and polite.

He found you unusually enchanting. Of course he recognised your beauty but there was something less superficial about you that just pulled him in.

The feeling was known to him yet very rare as it never seemed to have a happy end. He knew he tended to be quite intense with his emotions and that never ended well so he promised himself it wouldn’t be that way with you.

It wasn’t long till you happened to be invited to the same dinner parties through common friends. How could he not observe you when you were sitting opposite of him only a few centimetre out of his reach? Every time you happened to talk he found the perfect opportunity to study you, the way you spoke, the way you smiled, the faces you made when you found something funny, stupid or ridiculous. You tried to be discreet not to offend anyone but he noticed, he noticed and he loved every expression your precious face made.

If you happened to sit next to him he would already know what perfume you wore, what scented shampoo you used everything. (And he wouldn’t mind doing some personal research about you beforehand)

With every joke of yours he found himself truly laughing and when you spoke his inner monologue quietened and he didn’t have to pretend to be listening because he actually did.

For a man like him who spent most part of his life stuck inside his head, building fortresses against the cruelty of people you quickly broke down everything while having him feeling so comfortable and at ease with you. You had him hooked.

Of course he noticed the way other people looked at you. Women and men with their envy and lust and he wouldn't be jealous if he only knew you were his.

During his sessions he found himself unable to focus on anything, his mind just replaying every conversation you two had over and over like a broken radio. Almost every night he was awake at the most unholy hours, his mind unable to rest and stop thinking about you. That was when he knew it was inevitable.

His insomnia and love for you he treated with writing love letters and sonnets, making sketches and drawings of you as he imagined you, all of them hidden and locked in the drawer of his office and his heart too.

Now not only were you dominating his every through but his whole life too.

He would take notes into his head of your interests and would say all the perfect things to keep you interested. What were your hobbies? Art, literature, music he would become an expert for you. He knew everything from Taylor Swift's latest album to the full analysis of your favourite poem. He would do and learn about anything you liked and was passionate about, just to keep you talking to him with that sparkle in your eyes. He could do it for hours, days and every minute for the next of his life.

I hope you don’t share your affections with anyone special because if he found out which he would, they would be the next missing person in town or worse.

When you became used to him and you got to know each other better he found his chance to invite you to one of his special dinners. Only that one would be even more special as you would be the only guest hence having his sole interest. He had one whole evening to amaze you with his culinary skills, deep, meaningful conversations about art, philosophy and life. At the end of the night he had you feeling it too.

And when the time came and you became his you and the whole world would see just how smitten he is.

He laughed with every joke, he listened to you carefully and everytime your name was mentioned he couldn't help but smile. Any little things that caught your eyes you would have and if you asked for the moon itself he would find a way to give it to you.

He didn’t mind, he actually loved it. That was love for him. He wanted to be your loyal servant and your beloved and feared god all at once. Could you give him this and he would give you the world.

If you didn’t however return his affections or god forbid you betray him that would be a very different and tragic(for you) story.

[inbarfink]

Revolutionary Girl Utena is an Incredibly Meaningful and Emotionally Powerful Anime With Many Important Messages

The patriarchy is a toxic and deeply ingrained aspect of our culture that hurts everyone regardless of gender and social status, although ‘outsider’ women suffer from it the most - as they become the scapegoat and outlet for the suffering of others.

The concept of ideal masculinity is a myth that will basically kill anyone earnestly trying to reach it

The idealization and the demonization of women are both deeply sexist and harmful phenomena that spring from the same source

The romanticism of Fairy Tales shapes much of the way we as a culture think and is often used to reinforce regressive views of heroism and gender

Reality is a subjective fabrication. The way we view and process the world is so deeply shaped by our preconceived notions that we’re all basically living in different worlds.

Victims do not need to be morally perfect to deserve sympathy and support

Our conception of heroism is often interviewed with a condescending desire to deny victims, especially victimized women, their own agency.

Our memories are not as set in stone as we would like to believe and can easily be warped and manipulated based on our preconceptions or societal expectations

Clinging to the idea of childhood innocence past its moment will just corrupt into something much darker and uglier and probably incest-y

Gay

It’s a big mistake to think you’re the only one who can turn into a car

[kawaiigentlemenpolice]

The beast trio as your boyfriend headcannon + Trafalgar D.Law જ⁀➴ ♡

Pairing: Zoro/Luffy/Sanji and Law x A!Reader

Tags:fluff,cute,,kisses,pecks,snuggling,lovey dovey stuff

i'm no english native so sorry for some mistakes

please reblog 🔁 and like❤️

@muzansslxt @candy69gurl @kiwicopia @satorkive @ponderingmoonlight

ZORO

Zoro as a boyfriend would be the silent but caring type. He may not be the most verbal about his feelings, but he would always be there to support and protect you. He'd be the reliable and steadfast partner who stands by your side through thick and thin, always ready for a challenge. Behind his stoic exterior, he secretly has a soft side, especially when it comes to you. He might not say it outright, but his actions would speak louder than words. He would show his affection through small gestures, like surprising you with a gift or taking care of you when you're unwell.

When it comes to intimacy, Zoro would approach it patiently and respectfully, taking his time to understand your boundaries and desires. He values communication and trust, and would ensure that you feel comfortable and safe with him. While he may not be the most open with his emotions, he would express his love through physical contact, holding you tightly and showering you with gentle touches. He would also be fiercely protective, ready to defend you no matter what. Despite his serious demeanor, he can be playful and sarcastic, finding joy in the little things you do together.

Zoro would be the type to have deep and meaningful conversations with. While he might not always have the words to express himself, he would actively listen to you and provide thoughtful insights. He would value your opinions and feelings, and would be open to discussing his thoughts and experiences. He might not be the best at expressing his emotions, but he would try his best for you, knowing how important communication is in a relationship. He would also be supportive of your goals and ambitions, encouraging you to pursue your dreams and aspirations.

Zoro might appear tough and strong on the outside, but when you ask him for cuddles, he'll be surprisingly soft and eager to comply. He may grumble a little at first, pretending to be annoyed, but deep down, he secretly enjoys the closeness and intimacy. He might tease you a bit, calling you "cute" or "needy" but he can't resist the way your body fits perfectly against his. He would wrap his strong arms around you, pulling you close to his chest, and let out a content sigh.

When it comes to conflict resolution, Zoro would be straightforward and honest. He would prefer to address issues head-on and would not shy away from difficult conversations. While he might be blunt at times, he would approach discussions with the intention of finding common ground and reaching a resolution. He would respect your feelings and opinions but would also be firm in expressing his own perspective and boundaries. He values compromise and would be willing to adjust his approach for the sake of the relationship.

In an intimate moment, Zoro's kiss would start off slow and tender, his lips gently exploring yours. He would take his time, savoring the moment and making sure you felt comfortable and wanted. As the kiss deepened, his grip on you would tighten, pulling you closer to him. His tongue would dart out, seeking entry into your mouth, tasting and exploring every corner. There would be a sense of possessiveness and passion in his kiss, as if he was marking you as his. He would break the kiss momentarily, his breath hot against your skin as he looks into your eyes, a silent promise to always protect you.

LUFFY

As a boyfriend, Luffy would be fiercely protective and loyal.

He would always defend your honor, and he would never let anyone disrespect you.

Luffy would also shower you with affection, hugs, and physical touch. His love language would definitely be physical touch.

However, he'd also be incredibly dense, especially about romantic matters.

Luffy would constantly surprise you with spontaneous dates and romantic gestures, but he wouldn't always realise they were romantic gestures.

He'd buy you flowers because they look pretty, but wouldn't realize that giving you flowers is also meant to express affection.

Luffy would be extremely blunt and honest with you, and expect the same in return. He doesn't like playing mind games or playing hard to get.

Luffy would be incredibly affectionate and physical in public, holding your hand, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, or even picking you up for no reason other than just wanting to hold you close.

He'd constantly compliment your beauty and strength, and wouldn't hesitate to show off his affection for you to others. He'd take pride in being your partner, and would never shy away from calling himself 'your boyfriend.'

Luffy is also adventurous and spontaneous. He'd often drag you on last-minute road trips or adventures, even if you were supposed to have a quiet night in.

Luffy would always make you laugh, no matter how bad your day was. He'd have a way of lightening the mood with his jokes and carefree attitude.

He'd also be intensely loyal, and once he commits to a relationship, he'd never cheat or betray your trust.

Luffy would always be there for you when things get tough. If you're having a bad day, he'll immediately offer a shoulder to cry on and lots of hugs.

He'd be extremely supportive and encouraging, and would always push you to be the best version of yourself.

Luffy would also fight anyone who dared to hurt you physically or emotionally, no matter how strong they are.

However, Luffy can be a bit clueless when it comes to emotional nuances.

He might not always understand when you're upset or hurt, and can be a bit too blunt in his attempts to comfort you. He can be insensitive at times, but it's never from a place of malice.

Luffy also has a short attention span, so you'd have to be patient with him and accept that he can be distracted easily, even in the middle of romantic conversations.

Whenever you ask Luffy for cuddles, he is more than eager to oblige. He'd wrap his arms around you, pulling you close to his chest. His arms are strong, yet gentle, and he holds you securely against him. Luffy loves the feeling of your body against his, and he'll often bury his face in your hair, taking in your scent and enjoying the sensation of having you so close to him. He'll also sometimes nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck, placing light kisses there.

When it comes to kissing, Luffy is surprisingly gentle and passionate,

He'd cup your face with his hands, holding you closely, and press his lips softly against yours. His kisses are firm, yet tender, and he never fails to convey his feelings of affection for you through the contact.

Luffy isn't the type to hold back, and if the moment feels right, he'd deepen the kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth with an eagerness that's both hungry and tender at the same time.

SANJI

As a boyfriend, Sanji would be the stereotypical romantic type. He'd shower you with constant gifts and compliments, his way of expressing his love would be through his cooking and always making sure you were well fed. Despite how rowdy and boisterous he can be, when it comes to you, you have his undivided attention. The moment he's in your presence, he's completely enamored with you. He would do anything to make sure you're always taken care of and happy.

Another notable thing about Sanji as a boyfriend is his jealousy. He's known to be possessive and territorial, getting jealous easily if he sees anyone giving you any kind of attention. He'll always be there to step in and protect you if need be, making sure nobody else gets near you or tries to take you away from him.

His love language is definitely physical touch. He'd make any excuse to touch you. Whether it's holding your hand, wrapping one arm tightly around your waist, or just gently placing his hand on your shoulder, as long as he can touch you, he's happy. He likes to shower you with small kisses as well.

On top of being romantic, he's also pretty flirtatious. He loves to whisper sweet nothings into your ear, and shower you in compliments. He knows how to smooth talk and charm his way into your heart. Even when it comes to arguments or disagreements, he'd never raise his voice at you, instead trying to gently and calmly find a resolution. His desire to understand and compromise is one of his strong points when it comes to being your boyfriend.

He's not afraid to show his soft side around you either. When the two of you are alone, he's all gentle and tender. He likes to be close to you, and often craves your company. Even if he's having a bad day, just spending time with you can instantly put him in a better mood. Your presence alone brings him comfort.

He's also really considerate of your feelings. He'd always ask how you're feeling and make sure you're not stressed out or upset. If you ever need someone to talk to, he's all ears. He's willing to listen to you vent about anything and everything. He takes your emotions seriously and always tries to find ways to make you feel better.

Even when he's busy, he can't stand being apart from you for too long. He constantly checks in with you and keeps you updated on what he's doing. He doesn't like the idea of you feeling neglected. If he can't come to you, he'd make sure to send one of the other Strawhats down to give you updates, just so you're not left in the dark.

When you ask Sanji for cuddles, he would light up like a Christmas tree. His eyes would widen, and a bashful smile would spread across his features. He'd immediately scoop you up into his arms, holding you close to his chest. A low hum of contentment would leave him as he nuzzled his face into your hair, inhaling your scent deeply.

Overall, Sanji would be a devoted and loving boyfriend. He'd treat you like a princess and make you feel like the only girl in the world. He's attentive, caring, and protective, and his love language is a mix of physical touch and words of affirmation.

Whenever you kissed him, Sanji would melt against your lips. He would wrap his arms around you, pulling you closer to him in an almost desperate manner, as if he was afraid you'd slip through his fingers if he didn't hold onto you tight enough. Soft sighs and quiet moans would escape him, his body completely surrendering to the sensation of your lips against his. He'd kiss you with an intensity that betrayed his usual bashful behavior, his tongue eagerly exploring your mouth as though he couldn't get enough of you.

LAW

Law would be surprisingly a very affectionate boyfriend once you win his trust. Behind the facade of being a cold-hearted and apathetic doctor, Law secretly yearns for the closeness and love from someone he can rely on. He becomes a bit clingy, not wanting to leave you alone for long, and always secretly craves your attention. But he will rarely admit it, if you confront him about it, Law will blush in embarrassment and call you "bothersome".

Law is also a surprisingly a very protective partner. He always worries over you whenever you're in danger or injured. Though he does try to hide it from you, he gets jealous easily and secretly enjoys having you around him rather than other people. He values your presence in his life and always craves your company. Law will also always go out of his way to keep you happy and satisfied. Though he may portray himself as a stoic and apathetic person, Law is a real softie when it comes to romance.

Law is also a surprisingly a very protective partner. He always worries over you whenever you're in danger or injured. Though he does try to hide it from you, he gets jealous easily and secretly enjoys having you around him rather than other people. He values your presence in his life and always craves your company. Law will also always go out of his way to keep you happy and satisfied. Though he may portray himself as a stoic and apathetic person, Law is a real softie when it comes to romance.

Despite his aloof and stoic nature, Law secretly enjoys cheesy and romantic gestures. Whether it's a surprise flower bouquet, a hand-made card, or even a simple hug, Law can't help but melt whenever you do something romantic. He pretends to be annoyed by it but secretly loves it. He also secretly loves cuddling and holding hands with you, often subconsciously seeking your touch whenever you're nearby.

Law also secretly loves it when you show concern and care for him. When he's not well or feeling under the weather, Law secretly enjoys it when you take care of him. He's secretly happy when you bring him a glass of water or a soup to bed, or when you offer to do something for him. Law will never admit it to your face, but he does secretly love being taken care of by you. He also secretly enjoys it when you pay attention to him and focus entirely on him.

Law also secretively craves your touch and affection. He loves it when you hold his hand or rest your head on his shoulder. He pretends to be annoyed by it but secretly enjoys the small gestures of intimacy. Law also loves it when you stroke his hair or caress his face. He loves it when you give him little touches like a brush against his arm or a playful poke in the side. He's secretly addicted to your touch.

Law also secretly loves it when you give him compliments. He may act like he doesn't care, but he secretly revels in hearing sweet words from you. When you call him handsome, or tell him how much you care for him, Law can't help but feel a little flutter in his chest. He secretly enjoys the attention and the appreciation, and loves it when you go out of your way to make him feel special. Law also secretly loves it when you express your attraction to him, whether it's through words or actions.

Law secretly loves it when you ask for cuddles. He may pretend to grumble or act annoyed, but he secretly enjoys the intimacy and closeness. Law will often pretend to be resistant at first, but as soon as you curl up next to him and rest your head on his chest, he will quickly wrap his arms around you and pull you closer. He secretly loves the feeling of your warmth and your scent, and will often hold you tightly, as if he never wants to let go.

Law's kisses are surprisingly gentle and tender. Despite his aloof facade, he's actually a very skilled kisser. His lips are warm and soft as he gently kisses you, taking your breath away. Law also secretly loves deep and passionate kisses, especially when alone with you. When he's in a good mood, Law may even initiate kissing you unexpectedly, surprising you with a quick kiss on the forehead or a kiss on the cheek.

[asidian]

One thing I haven't seen talked about is Crystal's character arc, and specifically the way the timing of it interacts with Charles' arc. They stumble over each other in the worst possible way en route to their respective character growth, and from a narrative perspective, it's absolutely genius.

I'm going to preface all this by saying: none of this is a criticism of Crystal. Part of what makes her such a dynamic, refreshing character is that you don't get to see women in fiction written the way she's been written. You don't get to see women with her flaws that aren't throw-away mean girls or villains. You especially don't get to see women with her traits who learn and grow and become better people. So yeah, I'm going to talk about Crystal's character flaws. No, this isn't Crystal hate. We love our girl in this house. Okay? Okay. Let's start.

Crystal's character arc, at its heart, is all about her learning to be a better person because she has good influences that love and support her for the first time.

When the show starts, Crystal is not a nice person. She's abrasive in a way that's specifically designed to push people away. She's used to getting her own way, and it shows. She's used to having no meaningful connections with anyone, and it shows. She's breathtakingly selfish, in the very literal sense of the definition. She is focused on her self. Her problems are front and center to her; everything is about what she needs, and what she wants, and how she's struggling.

Jenny calls her out very early on. In episode one, Crystal is complaining about the boys, and Jenny, for all her cynicism, strikes right at the heart of the problem. She tells Crystal, "Everybody is always thinking about themselves, all the time." People only care about their own problems. And she says, correctly, that that's what Crystal is doing, too.

This moment is a revelation for Crystal. For the first time, she considers what her behavior looks like from another person's perspective. As she says, she gets mad at herself over it, and that awareness allows her to do something selfless for the first time in the series. She takes a step back and insists that instead of focusing on her problems, they go to help a little girl. It's a big moment for her.

But importantly, she's not done growing as a character here. She's only just getting started.

On my first watch through, I didn't realize how often, over the next few episodes, Crystal redirects things to her problems during conversation, but it's quite a lot. She's still focused on herself – selfish, in that most literal definition of the word. The issues most important to her are her issues. She's starting to learn to think about other people, but she's not there yet. The process is still underway.

Which brings us to Charles.

Charles' arc is a different sort of self-reflection. He's terrified that he's a bad person the way his father was and the way the boys that killed him were.

During the course of the show, he gets systematically stripped of his confidence and made to feel helpless, and just like Crystal needs outside influences to help her reach a more stable place, Charles does, too. He desperately needs reassurance that he isn't everything he's afraid he is.

But my goodness, the timing in their arcs is such a trainwreck when you put them together, and it is brilliant.

Let's start with the Devlin House.

Crystal has some amazing character growth here. She displays genuine concern about Charles, makes an attempt at comforting him, and learns to work with Edwin even though she still doesn't particularly like him at this point.

Charles, meanwhile, is beginning to fall apart. He's just had the worst night of his afterlife. He's been viscerally reminded of how helpless he is. He couldn't stop the Devlins from being killed over and over, just like he couldn't stop his own father's abuse. He messed up his attempted rescue so badly that he was completely out of commission until the case was finished. He managed to help not one single thing. He made no impact at all. He couldn't help those girls any more than he was able to help himself, while he was still alive.

So they get back to the butcher shop, and what do we see? Monty immediately coopts Edwin. Niko doesn't know what's happened because she wasn't there and Charles has been all fake smiles with her. And Crystal goes off with Niko, leaving Charles to flounder on his own in the wake of everything. She's still learning how to support other people. She isn't there yet, and it's extremely on display in this moment.

Then we get the lighthouse episode, and they both get put through the wringer here. Crystal gets her hopes and expectations jerked around by the Night Nurse in the very worst way, and Charles gets hit with a whole pile full of trauma. All that helplessness wells to the forefront again. Combined with being forced to relive some of his worst memories and the desperation to keep Edwin safe from hell, Charles lets himself act on his anger for once.

And what does he get in the aftermath? Horror.

Everyone who cares about him is horrified by what he's done. Edwin goes so far as to call it extreme. They don't know the half of it, of course; they haven't seen what the Night Nurse just put him through. But in this moment Charles is at his absolute lowest, and all he sees is confirmation that he's exactly as terrible as he thinks he is.

That's why Charles shrugs off Edwin's attempt at comfort, here. When he needed to be able to do something to protect Edwin and also himself – when he needed to believe that he could be better than what his father always was – all he sees is the confirmation from the people he cares about most that when push came to shove, he really is a bad guy.

Then comes the aftermath. And this moment is such a brilliant, awful clash of both of their character arcs. It is so delightfully messy.

Because Charles starts to open up to Crystal here. He starts to lay himself bare, the way he ends up doing with Edwin in episode 5. He's on the verge of admitting something that he's been worried about for literal decades. He tells her, "I've been angry for such a long time."

And what does Crystal do? She's still in the midst of her own character growth. She's still struggling to support other people. She's still learning how to. In a lot of ways, though she's made progress already, she's still that selfish girl that Jenny called out in the very first episode.

And she shows it here it with the absolute worst possible timing. No sooner has Charles started to talk about what's bothering him than she cuts in with her own problems. She's tired of riddles and spirits and demons and not knowing who she is. And the look on Charles' face. The moment when he visibly sets aside his own problems, because Crystal doesn't need any more disasters on her plate? It's heartbreaking. You can actually track the subtle change in his expression there. The actor does a phenomenal job.

And then comes the kiss. And what spurs it? Crystal saying she needs something real.

This moment isn't about light-hearted attraction, the way the earlier flirting is. It's Charles setting aside what he needs – comfort and reassurance and a moment to talk through the things that have been tearing him apart – to give her what she says she wants. He can't even feel it. And Crystal isn't far enough along in her character growth here to realize how selfish she's being. Like Jenny said way back in episode one, she's only thinking about herself.

And then comes the absolute unmitigated disaster of episode 5.

Straight out the gate, Charles leans in for a kiss. From his perspective, they have something together; there's affection there. Charles "I think I'd miss kissing" Rowland, who has been starved for meaningful physical contact for thirty years, is not in a hurry to give this up.

But Crystal is fresh out of a nightmare where she conflates Charles with her abusive ex. She withdraws; she calls what they had a distraction. She cuts it off almost as soon as it's started, so focused on her own worries here that she misses how damn fake Charles' smile is, to cover up that he's coming to pieces.

To be clear, she's absolutely not in the wrong here. It is 1000% her prerogative not to jump into a relationship again while she's still struggling to work through what happened with David. But the arc of her narrative is still early enough that she does it all without so much as the awareness that her focus on her own issues has hurt Charles terribly.

And then the episode really kicks off, and both of them are in shambles in very different ways.

Crystal is projecting her issues with David onto Charles. She has a lot of history, and David seems as though he's exactly the right sort of toxic to leave lasting a lasting impact. But Charles hasn't done anything to deserve her assumptions, and he takes the brunt of her temper here and throughout the episode.

Charles is desperately projecting onto the dead jocks. He very badly wants them to be good guys, because he sees himself in them and he needs himself to be a good guy. He snipes back at Crystal for the very first time in this episode, and he does it in the worst way possible, accidentally prodding her where it will do the most damage.

They're both hurting. They both say some truly painful things to one another.

She does not need to hear that she has unsorted hangups about David still plaguing her while she's unable to move past them. He desperately does not need anyone to tell him that he has rage issues while he's still struggling to think of himself as a decent person.

They apologize, in the end. They start to move past it.

But it's telling that Charles doesn't try to open up to Crystal again. He goes to Edwin instead, even though Edwin is the one who called his actions regarding the Night Nurse extreme. He gets the reassurance he needs so badly; he gets the connection he was looking for with Crystal from Edwin, instead. (I have a lot of thoughts on why Charles initially tries to open up to Crystal so quickly, but it is very much an aside, and this is already extremely long, so it will have to wait for another write-up.)

But the important thing here is, Edwin is the one to offer Charles what he needs to overcome the self-doubt eating him alive. Edwin provides the physical affection Charles was seeking in the form of that long-overdue hug. Edwin is the one who's able to reaffirm for him that he's not just a good guy, he's the best person Edwin knows.

And for all intents and purposes, Charles' major character arc ends here.

Charles has a few last little moments to go on the path to rebuilding his own self-image, after this, but for the most part his concerns have been resolved. He saves Crystal in episode 6 and Edwin in episode 7, proving to himself that he's able to make a difference in the face of overwhelming odds. He's not helpless, no matter what the Night Nurse told him; he can be a force for good in the world. By the end of the series, his crisis of self-doubt seems to have been largely overcome.

But it's the conversation with Edwin at the end of episode 5 that really allows him to work through his most pressing issues. Edwin is there to help support him when he stumbles. Edwin provides him the comfort he was looking for while Crystal was too worried about her own problems to notice how badly he needed the help.

Crystal, meanwhile, still has a ways to go after episode 5. The last three episodes are where she does her most important character growth.

In episode 6, she learns some hard lessons about keeping secrets and letting people help and appreciate you even when you can't offer them anything in return. And Charles, importantly, is there for her every step of the way. He consistently offers her physical and emotional support. He models for her, in a very real way, what it looks like to have someone prop you up when you need the help.

And in turn, Crystal steps in to save the boys. She's the big damn hero at the end of this episode.

The breakthrough continues into episode 7. She's so intent on helping to get Edwin out of hell that she literally goes to face her own demons, not for herself for once – not for her own purposes or needs or wants – but because she wants to help someone else.

And episode 8, at long last, brings her to the culmination of her character arc.

Crystal is at her absolute lowest here. Her family, the people who were supposed to love her unconditionally, didn't even realize she was gone. Her precious memories, that she's spent the entire series trying to regain, have showed her that she's not the person she hoped she would be. She's overwhelmed enough that she means to flee, to cut herself off from her new friends entirely.

Then the boys get kidnapped. And just like that, she makes up her mind.

For the first time since the start of the series, she sets aside her most important issues in order to let what other people need take precedence. She disregards all of her own personal concerns and focuses instead on others. She's finally stepped out of those selfish impulses that Jenny calls her out on, all the way back in the first episode. She's finally learned how to support other people when they need it.

Crystal has finally figured out how to be there for others, despite having troubles of her own.

It's a lovely arc, and it's beautifully done.

Charles' is just as touching.

And god damn, but it was a brilliant narrative choice to have their character arcs line up in exactly the wrong way.

[lottiies]

SHARED MY BODY AND MY MIND WITH YOU

→ Leon broke up with you because of his emotional baggage, not wanting to drag you down into his trauma-induced misery. He didn’t usually date out of his line of work anyway, he hated himself for involving himself with someone so innocent. But when he gets a voicemail at an awfully late hour and listens to it, he nearly broke driving laws to get to your place. He still loves you, that much is certain. Your body and mind are like a second nature to him

CW: MDNI, fem!reader, pwp, one sided breakup, angst, description of leon’s self guilt and sabotage, heavy mentions of marriage, centered around Leon rather than the reader, reconciliation, lovemaking–gentle sex, crying, very small religious snippet, he eats you out, unprotected p in v, implied aftercare + implication of a better future

WC: 5.3k

Note: i think…this is my favorite fic that i’ve ever written. breaking my pink blog theme with this and actually capitalizing letters um…i had to set the tone okay. i actually started working on this in january to cope with some things, but i didn’t make much progress until recently!! the title’s a lyric from the song ‘cruel world’

BOT VERSION HERE MASTERLIST

Leon has a rule: never get emotionally involved with anyone who isn’t in his line of work. The reason behind that is self-explanatory. It's too difficult to accomplish. All his baggage holds him down, and he’s always away for long periods at a time and then returns back with body aches all over and has to hibernate for a while. What does he truly have to offer?

He did it anyway.

You managed to romance him, granting him a fleeting glimpse of happiness and a chance at self-love. Lingering caresses, meaningful eye contact, soulful conversations, an audience to his jokes, the key to your heart — you gave him everything.

Breaking up with you was painful, the second it was all said and done and you were out of his sight, he broke down crying. That was what he deserved, that’s what his mind told him.

It was easy for Leon to disappear from your life, just as quick as the snap of his fingers. He was never around that much to begin with. Your efforts in reaching out to him were futile if he was halfway across the world dealing with another abrupt assignment, or if he fell back into the habit of nursing a drink in some run down bar without contacting a soul.

But no amount of alcohol could make him forget about you these days. The memories of you were too strong to be diluted.

“What about this one?” Curiosity had dripped from your question, your fingers gently feathered across the healed up scar on his left shoulder.

Leon was almost an open book when it came to you, he truly cherished honesty in any relationship, whether romantic or platonic. Guilt weighed on him for having to limit certain answers to only the surface details. It felt wrong; it felt like he was keeping secrets from you and keeping you in the dark. But it couldn’t be helped, not when you weren’t in the same line of work as him. Most of the contents of his work were confidential.

After all, at this point the two of you had only been dating for half a year. How could he burden your mind with the harsh realities of everything that wasn’t known by the general public?

The two of you were naked, tangled under the sheets. No sex or anything, simply getting familiar with each other’s bodies and exploring with gentle and cautious hands.

“1998, shot on duty.”

The memories were still fresh in his mind. People say that forgetting a traumatic event is common, people dissociate to cope and shield their brain. It was the opposite for Leon. All the screams plagued his mind like a damn mantra, no way in hell would he ever be able to forget anyone’s voice.

Either that, or his mind made up fantasies about what could’ve been between you both. Domestic bliss. Buying a house together. Shy talks about how many kids you guys wanted. The memories haunted him. He wanted it back.

He even bought a ring. A beautiful one that he was meant to display to you when he sunk onto one knee and popped the question that would hopefully bind the two of you for life. The one that he was supposed to fidget with whenever he held your hand as the two of you planned your wedding, whether it be simple, grand, or to elope.

He kept it safe even after he broke up with you, he couldn’t bear to throw it away because of the sliver of hope that maybe one day he’d still get the chance of putting it on your finger. He felt like a fool. Sometimes he opened the box up to reminisce. It tugged at his heartstrings when he saw how rough his own fingers were in comparison to the smooth metal, from his years of physical exhaustion and training. God, he wished your hands would never get all battered like his.

He thought about you so much that you were the star actress in his nightly dreams.

The worst ones were the nightmares, though. Like the one that had him turning in his sleep tonight.

It all replayed in his mind. Your facial expression when he broke up with you out of the blue — the way the smile on your face had faded into a frown, your glimmering eyes contorting into that of disheartened ones. The way you looked at him with such a concoction of emotions. The pitiful chuckle that escaped your lips along with a nervously spoken ‘what?’ Or maybe it was the prolonged silence afterwards that killed him. It felt like hours until he got a proper response from you, one that was drowned out by the drumming of his own heart and the pulse that formed in his ears.

Usually he got to the end of it, but tonight he was abruptly woken up by the sound of his phone ringing. A blessing in disguise, maybe. Regardless, he was a bit irritated, he had always been such a light sleeper.

“You’re kidding…” Leon let out a heavy sigh, trying to rub the sleep away from his eyes. He didn’t even want to answer, too tired to even think about the possibility of being called to the field. No way in hell did he want to be met with Hunnigan’s voice and some intel he didn’t feel like remembering.

He let the phone ring, and eventually, blissful silence filled the room again. If it was dire, he knew he’d get another call soon.

Instead, he heard his phone vibrate not long after. He muttered out a curse before reaching for his phone, seeing that a voicemail was left. He didn’t bother reading whose number it was. Christ, the message was 5:06 minutes long.

Whatever. He played it aloud, resting his forearm over his face as he listened in.

“Hey Leon, it’s me…”

Fuck.

He fully sat up on his bed, so quickly it could’ve given him whiplash.

“I miss you. Still think about you every day. I don’t know what I did wrong…you probably aren’t even listening to this. I just…I don’t know.” a sigh. “The clock hit 12 and um, well today’s the anniversary of the day you asked me out. Maybe you don’t remember. I think you do though, you were always good with dates.”

Leon knew the voice of a broken person when he heard it.

No. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He was supposed to let you go and then you’d see how much life had to offer, how any other person could give you a better and more stable relationship.

How could you be hung up on a man like him?

It was instinctual. He shuffled out of bed, body reacting before his mind and reaching for a clean pair of clothes from his closet. He left the voicemail playing in the background, it filled his lonely house. His heart was racing so loudly he couldn’t even hear the sounds of the wind outside or the creak of the floor with every step. All he did was change and brush his teeth before he drove over to you.

Thankfully, the roads were empty and the highway was free of traffic or else surely he would’ve been pulled over.

Thinking rationally wasn’t necessary when it came to you, not when he just got punched in the gut with a load of nostalgia and gut wrenching heartbreak.

He has always been yours, even during the separation. His heart hammered within his ribcage when he pulled into your driveway, his body moving in a hurry out of his car and towards your door. No hesitation.

Knock, knock, knock.

Ten seconds felt like ten minutes, but eventually the door swung open.

Your pretty face filled the focus of his pupils, his expression softening. You looked like a deer in the headlights, gazing up at him with wide eyes.

Oh, my sweet girl. There she is.

His hands itched to reach for you, to hold you in his arms and spin you around, nuzzling his nose against yours like old times — like some romantic drama. He hadn’t watched one in a while, they reminded him too much of you. He shoved his hands in his pockets.

Leon's hair was messy. It was a sight you had seen many times: his bed hair. Those emotion carrying eyes of his were contrasted with the lifeless bags under them. He came over so damn quickly he hadn’t even taken the time to make himself look composed.

“Leon? What are you…” You couldn’t even finish your thoughts. You felt nothing yet so much at the same time, perhaps from the shock of it all. You brought two fingers to the pulse on your neck to make sure you were awake, and hadn’t somehow fallen asleep after your call and voicemail to him. The thundering pace of your pulse confirmed that you weren’t off in dream land.

“I got your voicemail,” He responded, sounding remorseful. “Had to make sure you were alright. Uh…can I come in?”

You continued staring at him like if he was some sort of supernatural being. If you reached your hand out to touch him, would he disappear? Or perhaps your limb would go straight through him as if he was transparent.

You snapped out of it and nodded. “Yeah, come on in.” Hesitation clouded your tone, not out of wariness but because you had no clue what the hell was going on. You hadn’t seen him in over a year, at least not in person, only through photos and videos you still had saved on your phone from when the two of you were dating (going through them was part of your nightly routine.)

“To be honest…I wasn’t expecting you to even hear my message.”

You stood there awkwardly as he entered, closing the door afterwards. Your apartment still smelled the same, a wave of comfort washed over him despite the circumstances, his eyes darting around at all your belongings. This was once his safe space, like his secret haven.

You sat on your couch, waving him over. Your legs felt like jelly, no way could you be standing for this. He followed, sitting on the couch cushion on the opposite side from you.

“My ringtone woke me up. I thought you were a coworker of mine at first but…I’m glad you weren’t.”

“Glad, really?”

“Yeah.” He gave no further context, at least for that minute.

Silence hung in the air, time became still. Either way, the shared glance between the two of you broke the tension, you were both thinking the same thing. Your minds were linked, seeking reconciliation, every circuit of neurons buzzing with your shared proximity.

He rested his elbows on his knees, running a hand through his hair, a nervous habit. Everything felt surreal, you couldn’t take your eyes off him, afraid he’d disappear.

“I’m…I’m sorry about the way I ended things.” There was a crack in his voice, he was so desperately clinging onto the ideology that he shouldn’t wear all his heart on his sleeve. He failed every time though, his words had wavered.

“I know.” You truly did.

“How?”

“Because I know you, Leon. It hurt, and I found myself wondering why you would just up and leave after what felt like such a meaningful time. But I didn't ever think you did it with mal intent.”

You should be demanding answers, hell, he could even take a few slaps to the face. Maybe his guilt ridden self preferred that to your sweet treatment. Did he even deserve to be met with your understanding? This self-pitying mindset he harbored is what had led to this in the first place.

“You’re right. I didn’t mean to hurt you, that’s the last thing I wanted to do.” Were his efforts in explaining himself getting across? “I thought it was better this way. I'm…broken.”

Trying to convince him that he isn’t ‘broken’ was futile, all you could do was beautify it instead. You scooted closer to him, clasping one of his hands between yours. “All you see are your faults, but I was seeing you entirely, not just for what you do in your job or the images that keep you up at night.”

His hands felt the same. Calloused in areas he couldn’t help like his knuckles and his palms, but well-kept in the nail department. He looked down at the physical contact, putting his other hand atop yours, his thumb grazing tenderly at your skin. Familiar territory.

“It’s hard not to.” He admitted, his eyes feeling glossy all of a sudden. “My job is my life, it drags into every other part of my life.”

“How did it drag into our relationship?”

He truly didn’t know how to answer that. The times he shared with you were the best experiences of his life. He finally got the chance to pull out his cardboard box full of romantic movies to watch with the lover he had been waiting for his whole life, you. Countless nights spent cooking together in your kitchen, full of laughter and playful bickering, and some harmless food fights. Grocery shopping together with laced fingers, just a sneak peek into domesticity. God, he yearned for its return.

“I don’t know. I constantly had to leave and got no vacation time either. Let’s see…I had to keep a lot of information confidential. It kinda screams ‘this’ll all make a girl run the other way.’”

How wrong he was, he ended up leaving before he could get abandoned, as if that would’ve happened, though, you never wanted him out of your life.

“That wasn’t true for me, Leon. I wanted to be with you. I just hope I wasn’t a burden on you.”

That hurt. A dull ache spread across his chest. He pulled you close, tucking you against his side.

“Don’t say that,” His instruction was soft spoken, his lips brushed against your cheek. You were never a burden, he always shut you out, thinking that his heart was full of thorns and you’d prick yourself if he let you get too close. That, perhaps his sorrow was contagious and his poison would flood your veins.

Words of comfort weren’t his strong suit, but he tried his best. He had to. “You weren’t a burden. Never were, and never will be, okay?”

It felt so good to have you against him, his gaze was set on you, searching for any indicator that you were uncomfortable. You leaned your shoulder against his shoulder though, nuzzling against him. Pensive silence followed.

Even with the somber undertones filling your apartment, your heart was bursting. He was here, back with you. Holding you like he used to do after you had a particularly stressful day at work, or when you had an argument with one of your close ones.

The long separation made familiar carnal desires spark to life, along with the itch to bring them to fruition.

“I’m glad you’re here.” You murmured to him, but your wavering voice caught his instant attention.

You were on the verge of tears, oh dear. If you started sobbing, he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to hold back from crying either.

Leon didn’t waste a second, pulling you onto his lap, one of his hands stroking the back of your head, his other arm wrapping around your back.

“What are you thinking about?” He needed to know. You had always been the most verbal, whereas his feelings usually showed on his face or body language.

“About how much I missed you.” You respond, running your hands up and down his arms, squeezing at his muscles. “And how unreal this feels. And…” Your eyes flicker down to his lips. “I wanna kiss you, Leon…and y’know.” Make love. “Like old times.”

Oh.

“Are you sure?” Leon hadn’t intended for the night to play out this way. He needed to make sure you were actually thinking straight with the pool of emotions you seemed to be drowning in. To be fair, he was drowning too.

It was midnight, your bodies burned for one another.

“I am.” You uttered those words with such finality, eyes set on him.

This wasn’t some impromptu longing for his physical connection, you had been craving it for as long as the two of you had been separated. To feel him in the purest and most tender way possible, nestled against one another and eliciting feelings no one else could.

The pads of his thumbs rub circles against the fat of your hips. He's looking up at you, his eyes are unable to hide a flicker of yearning and affection. Expressive, his pupils dilated and his eyebrows slightly raised. He blinked slowly, like a cat showing utmost trust to its owner.

He looks at you like he worships you (he does.) Get him on his hands and knees, he’ll mumble your name like you’re his god and he’s praying to you, all his sins out in the open and his scarred body for you to look over and judge. He’ll be vulnerable with you if that means you’ll forgive his wrongdoings and give him a second chance. You must be a merciful god, no doubt about it.

“Don’t look at me like that.” You murmured, cupping his face. His gaze was hypnotic, sending a wave of security down your body. It almost felt as if you traveled to the time before he shattered your heart into pieces of glass.

“Like what?” He couldn’t help it. Not like he had a mirror, anyway. His face was usually tense, brows permanently furrowed and eyes narrowed from being attentive all the fucking time, his lips a straight line, jaw anything but relaxed.

Not right now, though. Never with you. Everything in his body softened and loosened up around you. Well, with the exception of his dick but that was another matter.

“You know what I mean. Like…like you still love me.”

Leon didn’t know what to say. The words died in his throat while every fiber of his being wanted to say ‘I do.’ The same words he could’ve voiced out standing across the altar from you. His brain short-circuited.

His pause came across as ambiguous to you, to mask the pain, you kissed him. Like a chocolate on a hot summer day, he melted in an instant, turning to mush, holding one side of your jaw and matching your pace.

The two of you mingled like two puzzle pieces. Your chest was flush against his, one of your hands finding his hair and pulling on it, earning a drawn out groan from him. It went slow for the first five minutes, some occasional pull backs for breath, shy smiles in betweens, before going back in like the act of kissing was needed for your pulses to continue, your hearts beating as one.

“Mmph.” Your whimper made him shudder, oh how he had missed that noise. His other hand got a bit more confident, resting on the small of your back, moving up towards your ribs then back down, almost resting on your ass.

He felt a surge of heat settle in his groin, aching to give you all the pleasure you deserved, to make you feel cherished and known. To knock any misery out of your head and replace it with euphoric sparks and reassurance. To be one with you again, if you’d have him.

He pulled away from the kiss, his eyes fluttering open. “Bedroom?”

A nod from you was all it took. He didn’t let you get up, instead holding your ass as he stood up, his lips back on yours as he carried you to your bedroom like he owned the place. His mind still had the spatial layout, it worked out and he eventually placed you onto the middle of the bed oh so delicately.

You knew what was coming, already taking your clothes off in a haste as you heard his belt come undone, the sound of his taking his shirt off, and his boots being kicked off.

It wasn’t long until he was on you again.

Leon took his time to look at your body. He was all too familiar with it, knowing exactly where certain beauty marks were, or the places that were sensitive to even the slightest fan of his breath. His fingertips ghosted over your sides, sucking in a sharp inhale as his eyes roamed all over, studying you as if you were his muse and he was about to draw you. “So beautiful…”

His lips had traveled all across you once upon a time. Leon had a great memory, perhaps one of his best features, though also his downfall. At times like these, it comes in handy. It almost seemed like a hazy flashback to the nights he had you splayed on the bed, pressing his lips against your forehead and making it all the way to the sensitive skin of your inner thighs.

He wanted to mimic the memory. “Need to taste you. Can I?”

“God, yes.” You agreed in a heartbeat, body already feeling all tingly at the anticipation.

He littered open mouthed kisses from the middle of your chest, all the way down to your end of your stomach, making your body ignite with flames and mind flood with an overwhelming sense of nostalgia. What day was it? Month? Year? You couldn’t remember, just desperately hoping this wasn’t some realistic feeling dream. You’ve had those too often, and if you woke up without him by your side, you felt like you would die from heartbreak.

He hooked his arms underneath your thighs to pull you close. His fingers dug into your thighs as he took another look at his favorite pretty cunt. He missed this. Missed you. Missed having you grind yourself against his face until he couldn’t breathe. Missed having his heart race from the angelic noises you blessed his ears with.

His nose pressed against your clit, applying light pressure as his tongue lapped at your slit, gathering the dew there. Geez, he really got right into it. Your eyes rolled back, your stomach tensing and your back arching. You could die right now by your (ex) lover’s tongue, what a way to go.

On the occasion that he opened his eyes, he’d look up at you through his light lashes — he swore you looked like an angel from his perspective.

“What is this? Your last meal on death row?” You were joking, but god…he really was making your mind go blank, he knew just all the right buttons to press.

“Oh, so you think I’m a criminal?”

Like always, you reached for his hair, pushing it back and hearing him growl out of contentment. He gave your clit gentle sucks before flattening his tongue against it and flicking it, his head moving side to side, repeating the process again and again.

One thing about Leon? He always found a way to turn you on by being vocal. His noises were muffled and sloppy but you could feel the vibration of all his whimpers and growls against you as he took his time eating you out. He was getting off to pleasuring you, and that fact alone made it so much hotter.

Your thighs were trembling, threatening to close in and squeeze his head. Leon placed one of his hands over your lower abdomen, applying light pressure with his palm and coaxing you into your orgasm.

It didn’t take you long to get there, you hadn’t felt a tongue on you in ages, he was your last.

“Leon, I’m—“

He already knew.

“That’s it, make a mess all over my face.” It sounded like a demand but instead it came across as a pitiful and desperate plea.

How many times had he been in this position? Lying on his stomach, your taste on his tongue, chin dripping with his drool and your wetness, feeling your body trembling…he couldn’t even count how many. But it was enough for him to know your body like no other.

He kept going even after your thighs started squeezing in on him, even with the way you unintentionally tugged at his hair enough to have him rutting against your sheets. He made sure to make your orgasm feel good, lapping at you all throughout until he heard a whine leave your lips and he felt you weakly push his head away — he didn’t want to overstimulate you and hurt you.

He finally took a breath, one that filled his lungs with satisfaction as he propped himself up on his elbows before sitting up. He ran a hand through his hair, feeling his blood pump south with the way you were still composing yourself, your legs twitching all cutely and your torso rising and sinking with each deep breath you attempted to take.

“Do you wanna…” Your eyes flitted down to the prominent tent in his pants, feeling a stirring in your stomach already.

“Do you?”

“Yeah. I mean…only if you want to.”

With his belt already in some corner of the room and his fly down, all that was left was discarding his pants and boxers down. He fished his wallet out and pulled a packet from it before doing so.

You were too distracted eyeing his now exposed dick, gulping. It had been a while. But a certain wrapper noise caught your attention. A condom. You had always been careful with him in the past, but you wanted him inside him without any barriers. To feel him entirely, his skin against your insides.

“Don’t, please?”

“But–“

“I need to feel you, Leon.”

“Already being a bad influence on me? What am I gonna do with you?” His jest was met with your roll of eyes, but the corners of your eyes crinkled, happy he was already comfortable enough to bicker a bit.

He pet your head, gazing fondly at you as he awaited your response.

“I just want to feel you as close as possible. I don't know how to explain it. You can pull out at the end…I dunno.”

You didn’t need to explain further, because he felt the same. He kissed your forehead, whispering “okay.”

Getting in between you and in position for missionary, he continued peppering kisses all over your face. He couldn’t hold back, he had so much to make up for, he owed you at least a thousand more. He pushed into you, a breathy moan leaving his lips, it felt like he had just entered the pearly gates. And the way your jaw hung open in a silent gasp told him you felt the same.

“You alright?”

“Mhm, keep going.”

“God, I missed you…” His thrusts made the bed creak, adding to the assortment of sounds of two bodies joined as one: skin against skin, high pitched gasps and occasional throaty groans, nails scratching against Leon’s back and leaving red marks in their wake, a subtle noise, but there nonetheless.

“Yeah? How much?”

“Too much. Could never get you outta my mind.” He admitted, burying his head against your neck to leave open-mouthed kisses all over, smiling when he felt you squirming. “Dreamt about you every night. Every…every morning I woke up, I thought you’d still be by my side.”

His response knocked the breath out of you, God if you could have him closer than physically possible, you would. This was the closest you’d be though, his tip hitting your g-spot, his body flush against yours, it was just the two of you in this never ending universe.

“Leon…Leon…fuck.” You called for him like you needed him to prevent you from crumbling.

He pinned one of your hands to the side of your head and laced his fingers between yours, his head remaining against your other side, raspy grunts and incoherent praises rumbling against your ear. He gently bit your earlobe, tugging at it and sending a shiver down your spine.

Despite all his self doubts, Leon knew how to love, how to send another person to cloud nine and make their head fuzzy with sheer euphoria. He wasn’t fucking you, he was loving you, there’s a clear difference.

His lips trailed to your jawline, eventually reaching your lips and initiating an uncoordinated make out session, the sound of dazed out whimpers and quiet growls mixing together perfectly.

He was getting there, his pace more erratic than before, his hand squeezing yours tightly. “You’re so pretty.” He mumbled against your lips, speaking in between rushed pecks. “Prettiest girl in the world.”

You managed to smile at that. “Yeah? Well you’re the prettiest boy in the world.”

You could’ve said handsome. Or hot. Or cute. But Leon was pretty, that was always the first thing that came to your mind. He was like a model, surely some agency would have tried to recruit him if he were actually in broad daylight more.

“Mm.” He liked the compliment. No more words were exchanged after that, he was focused on feeling you. Feeling the way you took all of him like it was nothing, clearly the two of you were physically made for one another.

There was no going back from this, Leon couldn’t bear the thought of getting a taste of happiness yet again and then falling back into a hopeless pit. He wouldn’t push you away again.

You were already sensitive from the way he had made you cum on his face earlier. You pulled away from his kisses, your head thrashing side to side against the pillow instead, your hips desperately bucking to meet his.

“Leon…”

“Just let go for me, you can do it.”

Moans ripped from your throat, your nails leaving crescent indents on his skin as your body writhed underneath him. Leon couldn’t take his eyes off of you as you came, his own stomach feeling tighter and tighter until he followed suit.

“I love you.” He let it slip at the very end, his mind too dazed and his emotions for you running at full blast. You would’ve replied if not for the way you were in awe, watching the way his eyebrows furrowed, his head tilted back, his mouth let out the raspiest grunts as he pulled out and came. Fuck, he couldn’t be real.

It was only then that Leon’s head cleared. He felt his heart sink to his stomach, had he said something wrong? The moment died down, he felt uncertain about how you’d react. Regardless, Leon took a moment to admire you in your flushed state before leaning down to kiss your head, then lying down beside you and pulling you to his side.

You were all dazed with his confession lingering in your head.

He still loved you. Maybe it was obvious, but hearing it aloud was a completely different feeling.

All the suppressed emotions between the two of you were being put on the spotlight. Your eyes brimmed with unshed tears, you tried to blink them away, but you failed.

Leon wished your eyes hadn’t gotten glossy and that your lips hadn’t tugged into a small frown. It made his heart physically ache. Heavy hearted, that’s what he felt like, swallowing to try to alleviate just how sore his throat felt all of a sudden. Guilt bubbled in his stomach because he knew he was the source of your tears.

He kissed away your tears, welcoming the salty taste of them.

He couldn’t tell you not to cry, he wasn’t in the position to. All he could do was reassure you instead, curling his hand into a fist before rubbing soothing circles onto your back as he watched you curl against him.

“Hey…”

“Sorry. I didn't mean to start crying. I just…you still love me? Did you mean that?”

“It’s okay. Just let it out, I'm here for you.” He had your head tucked underneath his chin. “And yeah…I never stopped.”

“I love you too.”

He wasn’t leaving this time.

Maybe that ring he held onto would find its true owner soon.

You, his sweet girl.

[scarletttries]

When Fallout Characters Fall In Love... (Fallout Show Request)

Pairings: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Reader, Maximus x Reader, Norm x Reader

Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who has sent in a request for the Fallout show, please keep them coming as this is definitely the show that I'm thinking about the most at the moment! Also let me know if you want a part two of these headcanons or something similar :)

The Ghoul:

- Cooper Howard couldn't put his finger on exactly when he had accepted that the life he now led would be one devoid of love, but it was a hollow feeling he carried in his chest wherever the wasteland took him. Maybe it was in the decades he'd spent wandering and gaining a reputation as a heartless cowboy without an ounce of mercy. Or the fact that he hadn't met anyone that had stirred up a single emotion inside him, fearing the aching betrayal of his wife would haunt him even as lifetimes passed. Maybe it came to him in the way he flinched each time he caught his reflection in the few unbroken windows he passed, flesh slowly forming caverns and creases where once there were only the faintest of lines that showed endless signs of life. The wasteland was no place for love. That's what he had decided.

- But even in the fall of civilization there's room for a surprise, and you were certainly one of those..

- He heard rumour of you before your bounty crossed his desk, a runaway scientist from a mysterious body known only as The Institute, a target to everyone for the sheer volume of classified knowledge you might possess.

- A life on the run was no easy one, and Cooper knew that better than anyone, so it didn't take long for him to track you down to a small town just on the outskirts of the radiation's no man's land. His gun was cocked as he strutted towards the half open door of the rundown house he'd narrowed your location down to, glancing at the poster in his hand one last time before he burst inside. Even from the poorly illustrated version of you, he could see your eyes were kind, almost hopeful, like you still believed science could make right what had gone so wrong in the last 200 years. He almost felt a tinge of guilt as he steeled himself for a fight, saying a silent prayer that you wouldn't be behind the walls in front of him.

- Stepping in carefully he expected traps, or an army of robots to jump to arms, but instead he found you travelling alone, a small satchel of papers clutched in your arms as you stared him down with a calm resolve that caught him more off guard than any weapon.

"Do you still believe there's hope for this world Mr Howard?" Your voice was soft, not the trembling fear he was so used to hearing. You stared up at him without a trace of disgust in your expression, your eyes locked on his as he considered your question, and then lowered his weapon.

"And what if I do?" His heart ached at the question, so hardened by years of cynicism that even the idea of hope and goodness were almost too heavy to bear. He felt more human than he had in years as you slowly inched towards him, the creaking floorboards beneath you cutting through a tense silence that had The Ghoul feeling like he was back on a movie set, everything so perfectly orchestrated to have his stomach in knots. And then you extended your hand to him and gave him the most genuine smile he could remember receiving in this whole sorry chapter of his after-life,

"Then I think we could really make a difference. Together." Your pip-boy screeched as his irradiated hand stretched out to reach yours, but you didn't flinch, gently squeezing the twisted flesh as you shook on what you bought felt in the depths of your souls was going to be a meaningful partnership.

- It would be a straight forward life trying to use your research to get the world back on track for there to be joy and peace again. But with The Ghoul by your side you can expect; a personal bodyguard who cares more about your safety than his own by far, a gleaming look of pride in his eyes any time you tell him which Cooper Howard film was your favourite, the slow and steady acceptance that he is still worthy of love even in his new twisted form, and Cooper being endlessly grateful that you are the person who wants to give that love to him.

Maximus:

- All Maximus had ever wanted was to be a knight of the Brotherhood. He wakes up every morning and does his best every day just to try and earn his spot in this family of welded metal and unflinching loyalty. It wasn't until you arrived on the base that he started to realise there were other ways he might form a family.

- A nearby village had been half destroyed by raiders until the Brotherhood stepped in, clearing out the violent scavengers and bringing anyone with skills they could utilise back to base for assessment. Maximus was sitting alone, nursing the most recent wounds inflicted by his so-called brothers when he watched you march in alongside two soldiers, the final evacuee of your faded community, a distance in your eyes that he felt akin with from his own home's destruction. You could feel his eyes on you before you spotted him, a rag damp with blood pressed to his nose as he sat huddled against a corrugated iron shack.

- Despite the sheer joylessness of the situation, Max couldn't stop himself from sporting a smile, waving at you like you had locked eyes across the schoolyard not some barren military base. Whatever he hoped for in that moment seemed to pay off as you waved back, a small laugh escaping your lips at the absurdity of his blood soaked grin. He watched as the knights around you escorted you to the medical tent for a check up, waiting until they left their guard posts beside you to sneak behind the off-white fabric, following some unknown instinct he'd never felt call to him before. You bolted upright where you perched on one of the medical beds as he appeared, visibly relaxing when you recognised him from outside and once again waving in his direction. His mouth worked faster than his brain in that moment, heart hammering in his chest as the words gushed out with his new found affections,

"I used to live in Shady Sands. I know what it's like to have your home destroyed, your family hurt, everything changing all at once. But you're safe here with the Brotherhood, and even if it doesn't feel like it today, things are going to be okay eventually. Also I'm Maximus and if you ever need to talk to someone, I'm, like, around all the time, and no one else really wants to talk to me so I'm probably going to be available... " He trailed off as he tried to recover what had ended up a far more embarrassing sentence than he'd hoped, his lungs burning as he realised he'd forgotten to take a breath through his whole winding spiel. But when you smiled at him any shame seemed to float away, and as you patted the bed and nodded for him to take a seat beside you, the once lonely squire suddenly felt much closer to finding a family than he had surrounded by his brothers.

- As you settle into life on the base, you and Maximus only grow closer. Expect; late nights of sneaking out of your dorm so you and Max can stare up the stars and plot your escape from this life, fantasising about what a life beyond these walls and this world could be like for the two of you, someone who has your back no matter how bad things get and how low you feel, and truly some of the most god awful flirting you will ever hear.

Norm:

- Growing up in the Vault, Norm had always been told the value of belonging to a community, and how everyone in the vault was just a big happy family. But none of that stopped Norm feeling like an outsider, like he didn't quite operate on the same wavelength as the rest of the cheerful strangers he shared his deep underground walls with. After a few of the annual exchanges between vaults, he had all but given up on hoping to meet anyone he felt he could actually feel close to.

- When his overseer father had finally decided it was his turn to continue the vault's legacy and be part of what Norm considered an archaic tradition of arranged marriages between the linked vaults, Norm couldn't have been more resistant. He pleaded for the council to reject his nomination, begging them not to force some young hopeful to be subjected to his notable lack of enthusiasm for the rest of their life in this dutiful swap, but with limited options of eligible young men, he soon found himself staring down the doors of your vault. The suit previously used by his fellow bachelors had been tailored to within an inch of its life to try and fit his slight frame, the shoulders still feeling like they hung off him, threatening to swallow him up along with ground as he watched the round door slowly start to roll open.

- He thought this whole thing was stupid and outdated, and he knew there was no way he could actually find someone to love and love him in return behind those doors, so why was his stomach so full of butterflies as slowly your face started to appear in the artificial light of Vault 33. He waited to see you throw him a false smile, going through the motions as much as he had planned to, or even a look of disappointment that he was not the man you had been picturing as the door crept open. Instead he really thought he saw sincerity in your eyes, a thoughtful understanding as he choked out his name, his stammering not going unnoticed by his sister who quietly chuckled behind him.

"It's really nice to meet you, Norm." You spoke each word with intention, like it wasn't just a rehearsed greeting but an honest confession that sent sparks flying in the air between you.

- Suddenly the pressure of matrimony didn't feel so all consuming. And maybe this system was more advanced than he had appreciated. And there might be a small chance that he wasn't destined to spend his life feeling like he was on the outside, that he might finally have someone that could take him as he is, darkness and light, for better or for worse.

- Whether you stay in the vaults, or make your move to the surface world, with Norm by your side you can expect: Sarcastic comments muttered under his breath at inopportune moments just to see the way you fail to contain your laughter, being the sounding board for all of each other's thoughts and feelings no matter how serious or silly they might be, Norm clinging to your side through everything knowing that he only feels himself when he's stood in your light, and being the one person Norm would do absolutely anything for, bringing out the bravery and intelligence that was always just below the surface of this sweet man.

[walkerofthebeyond]

Honestly, with everything that has happened with dragon age veilguard, im really sad to say a part of me wishes this game had been cancelled.

I trusted weekes to write a great ending for solavellan. I defended the devs on Twitter and got called slurs by antiwoke weirdos for it. I bought into the hype and bought the rooks coffers and the artbook. Now i just feel ill, i wish the game had never been released, and then i could have stayed in my little headcanon bubble. So many writing choices left me just thinking, why?!

Spoilers

I knew there wasn't going to be a happy walk into the sunset type ending for solavellan, and there were things I liked about the ending like solas and lavellan going into the fade to be with each other eternally, really tying back to "in another world"

but some of the other choices I just can't get behind. Mythals' relationship with solas just felt wrong. We're they lovers or mother and child? I can't tell, which is not something anyone should have to say, but either way, it was toxic and manipulative, and it's never brought up or confronted in any meaningful way. They could have used this to highlight the difference between lavellan and mythal. How mythal forced him to change to what she wanted while lavellan loved him for who he was.

Mythal should have been the bad guy who had manipulated and corrupted solas, using his guilt and desire to save the elven people, so that she could have her revenge and to change the world how she saw fit. Have lavellan be the one to reason with him, to finally show him that he was wrong, again. That thedas was worth saving. I know some people (me included) wanted the veil down, but I understood for gameplay reasons that couldn't happen.

They could have finally shown solas loving lavellan from his pov. shown us memories of what he thought of her when he first saw the little mortal with his magic in a cell in haven. What he did after the first flirt, what he thought after the fade kiss or the kiss on the balcony, what happened after crestwood or when he left skyhold or the end of trespesser. show him pining for her, show him watching her dreams from his pov, always running when she reached out for him. Apart from one codex and one piece of dialogue, we aren't given any sign that he misses her. They put more effort into the relationship with mythal than the one with lavellan.

I'm not even going to bring up what happened with varric because honestly I still not ready for it, it was such a terrible writing choice not just to varric but to solas ans the player as well, and a terrible send-off for a beloved character.

So many of the lore reveals were thing that we already suspected and they were given to us so quickly.

Overall, I'm a bit heartbroken, angry, and broke. This is ME3 ending all over again.

[pearlzier]

────⠀ RICH.ᐟREADER struggles with showing love.

NOTES ,, might do a tag list specifically for skater!matt and rich!reader if anyone.... is interested... this is just fluff but i think theyre so cute <3.

you don't really know how to show affection towards those you like or love without spending money. you're so used to others doing it for them—your parents throwing a couple of expensive clothes or jewellery at you for your birthday, your friends taking you out to lavish restaurants as a gift as opposed to something homemade or actually thought out. of course, you like all of those things, who wouldn't? but.. they don't know how to not spend money on those you love.

you don't understand the saying, 'money doesn't buy happiness'. it's managed to make you happy your entire life, so how's that supposed to work? like.. it doesn't make sense. so when matt's birthday's coming up, well, you immediately knew you were gonna buy him something nice and take him somewhere expensive.

but you can't help but think that maybe that's not the best course of action, that matt wouldn't exactly want the generic rich kid birthday starter pack. he's got three siblings, damn it, maybe he'd want something a little more.. meaningful? he's probably seen a few birthday dinners at expensive resturaunts in his time, you doesn't want it to be boring for him. you wanted to make an impact, even if you didn't know how.

it gets to a point where you're stumped, completely. you know matt so well, but are so stuck in your old ways and so used to just shelling out some cash for one day only to do it again and again annually, that coming up with anything that he wanted seemed impossible.

a new skateboard? surely he had enough. protective gear? now that was just comical. you hated the feeling of not being able to come up with a meaningful gift to give him. sure, you two aren't dating, but you're close enough to constitute a gift, right? it pisses you off to no end, to the point of upset. you practically storm into matt's room, having been let in by chris when he saw how distraught you were. "you're so fucking hard to please! how am i supposed to get you a gift for your birthday when, when—"

matt's taken off guard. first of all, how'd you get in? he's assuming it was one of his brothers who'd let you in, but.. second of all, you're so upset. he'd thought he'd done something wrong but you're yelling at him about a gift? his birthday? he blinks for a minute, sitting up, "hey, hey, hey," he starts, frowning. the sight of you so upset makes his heart ache in the worst way possible. getting up from his bed, his gaze rakes over you.

it's appreciative, of course, but also concerned. "you're scarin' me, sweetheart, what's goin' on?" he mumbles, taking a little step closer as he reaches out for you. gently, he places his hands on your arms and draws you a little closer. you look up at him with glassy eyes, a little wet with tears that you try to blink away as to not seem weak or make your mascara run. "stop bein' all.." you don't know what you're protesting against, you really don't.

"all what?" his brows furrow a minute, a small, faint smile ghosting his lips. it only serves to make you a little more upset with how caring he is to you, even when you're a bit of a bitch to him sometimes. hey, he's a bitch in return too.

"all nice. we're supposed to fuck 'n' be all passionate, that kinda thing," you mumble under your breath, lashes fluttering as your eyes lift to his. matt feels a warmth flood his chest and he shakes his head, "don't even want you thinkin' 'bout that whilst you're feelin' like this," he murmurs quietly, tone firm but soft. "you gonna tell me what's up, or—'cause we can just watch a movie or somethin'." as much as he was passionate with your body, he was passionate with your heart too.

"wanted to get you something nice for your birthday, yeah? like.. something you'd enjoy, not some shit you'd say you like and then never use ever again," you start to explain, relaxing a little at the touch on your arms finally and melting your way against him. he hums for a moment, slowly nodding his head at your words. "but nothin's coming to mind at all. blank slate—i can't think of anything you like, i've tried every store, every website." you'd spent hours with your laptop and your soft blankets wrapped around you, just trying to find a single gift for him.

"babe," he sighs at the sight of you, the corners of his lips flitting upwards at the realisation that settles upon him. all this over him? over his birthday? god, you're adorable. "really?"

"what do you mean, really—what type of shitty response is tha—"

"hear me out," matt murmurs, interrupting you gently. he rubs his hands over your arms easily, sighing for a second as his eyes meet yours. "what if i don't want all that? what if i just wanna spend some time with you? y'ever think about that?" his hands slide up over your arms to your neck, fingers curling around the back gently. "that ever cross your mind?"

you scoff instantly at that—"well, who'd want that?" he doesn't admit it, but the sound of you saying that about yourself makes his heart ache in his chest once more. shaking off the pang of hurt, he continues after being quiet for a moment. "me, i'd want that. jus' bein' with you makes me happy. that'd make it a real good birthday." you can't deny there's a warm, fuzzy feeling in your heart when he says that. no one's ever said that your company is all they need to be happy.

you bite your tongue momentarily, considering your words. a bashful little look dawns on your face and you look away with a quiet huff. "yeah?" you mumble, looking up at him through your lashes after. damn it, he makes your heart feel all fluttery and warm like no one else has before. you're not sure whether you like it all that much—since it's so vulnerable, but you can't say you hate it, since you don't. "really?"

he draws you into him, his hand sliding up to the back of your head to cradle it before he holds you against his chest. "i mean it, pretty girl," he murmurs, his words completely genuine and true. he really does mean it, he loves you and your company so damn much—even if he can't say it. he doesn't need your alone time with him to end with having sex, or for you to buy him expensive little gifts, he just needs you. "really do mean it. i like hangin' out with you, ain't it obvious?"

"you're so—like," you don't know how to explain it. your head tilts a little, chin bumping against his chest a little as his fingers brush over your jaw. "so.." you're a little lost for words, admittedly. a smile plays over matt's lips once more, his eyes fluttering over your pretty face.

"so what, babe?"

you're quiet again, considering what to say before you make the decision that words can't describe how you feel enough. so you lean in, grasping at the fabric of his shirt to draw him closer and press your lips against his. it's slow, gentle, he blinks a minute to adjust to the fact you're kissing him, but he melts into it almost immediately. his plush lips against yours feels like heaven, parting a little instinctively. resting his hands on the sides of your face, he holds you against him.

after a little bit, he pulls back. "i get it," he murmurs quietly, "no need to explain. i know." he gets you more than anyone else.

ִ ֹ ★ @mattybsgroupie, @dayzeandhaze, @mattslolita, @stellasturns, @stevelacylovebot, @55sturn, @jetaimevous, @phone4pills, @aesthetixhoe, @venusiers, @chrissdollie, @stvrnmc, @sarosfilms, @beetlejenna, @funkycoloured, @v3nusasagrl, @imwetforyourmom, @deansbite, @beridollie, @https--roman, @sincerebabydoll, @pillwebb, @cayleeuhithinknot, @j2ss7 ִ ꒱

[buckys-wintersoldier]

Would you lie with me? | Bucky Barnes

Pairing -> BestFriend!Bucky Barnes x BestFriend!Female!Reader

Summary -> After a mission Bucky comes into your room to see you watching the raindrops at the window. The two of you decide to go out to enjoy the warm summer rain there.

Wordcount -> 2.1k

Warnings -> (G) none, just fluff

A/N -> The Oneshot is dedicated and a surprise for @imtryingbuck. I hope you like it and I just want to tell you I LOVE YOU, BESTIE. Thank you for always being there when I need you and being so supportive. It really means a lot and I appreciate you so much.❤️❤️ Divider made by @firefly-graphics , aesthetics: @sergeantbarnessdoll

Events -> Multifandom-flash Bingo | Round 3 | Card 1008 | 1.5 | Worth living for | @multifandom-flash | Sweetheart Bingo | Row One-One | I’m Yours | @sweetspicybingo

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist

The rain slowly makes its way down the window. It's been raining all day, but you like to just sit there and look at the raindrops falling down. The quiet sound of them hitting the floor makes you smile, and you enjoy the moment of the rain and the sound of it.

When someone knocks at your door, you turn away from your window, the blanket still tight around your body, while you shout a soft “yes?” in the direction of the door. The one outside the room opens the door, and you’re greeted by the big and lovely smile of your best friend, James Buchanan Barnes.

“Bucky,” you say happily.

His smile grows when he hears the excitement in your voice. Bucky's already beautiful blue eyes brighten even more when he closes the door and walks towards you until he reaches your bed and lets himself fall down on the edge of it. Now he is just a few inches away from you.

“Hey, doll. I thought I wanted to look after my best girl when I'm home from the mission, and here I am,” he says, his hand reaching to place it on your thigh.

You giggle softly about his words. Bucky always calls you ‘doll’ or ‘his best girl’ and he only calls you like that. When you first met him, you immediately knew he was your best friend. They told you Bucky isn’t really the one who talks much, but when you two are alone, he is the most talkative person you know. His laugh is the most beautiful you have ever heard, and the way he looks at you whenever you tell him about something makes your knees weak.

“How was your mission?”

“It was good, but I prefer being back at the compound because it means I can spend as much time with you as we want.”

You blush, your hand making its way from under your blanket to place it on his, and you stroke your thumb over his strong arm. Your eyes are piercing in his, and you are slowly getting lost. Everything feels so easy; there are no problems around you right now. You feel so much stronger when you just look into his eyes. Every fear and every negative thought is so far away that you feel like he is building walls around you to make sure they will never bother you.

After a moment, you’re just going to get lost in the depths of his eyes. You start to sing your favorite song, not really recognizing that you do. But it’s the song you and Bucky have decided to be “your song,” and whenever you’re around him, you have that song stuck in your mind, and like that, you just start singing it. Bucky’s grin grows when he hears the melody and words of the lyrics.

“We’ll do it all. Everything. On our own.”

When you sang the line the first time, Bucky made sure to tell you in every way possible that you’re never alone because he will be by your side whenever you need him. He found the most meaningful words someone could find to underline how much he means what he says. He never wanted to be so close to someone before; you’re the one he wants to be with whenever he can. With you around him, he feels like he is needed and loved by someone who understands him without words. And then one is you, his doll.

“We don’t need. Anything. Or Anyone.”

The two of you need just one another. There is nothing that makes you uncomfortable around him; you both can laugh together; he will comfort you whenever you need comfort; and he knows you do the same for him. Whenever he has a nightmare, he knows he can come into your room - when he isn’t already sleeping there - and talk to you. You would stay up all night for him, as long as he felt safe and comfortable. And he does the same, or whenever you get your period, he makes sure to have all you want to eat there, laying in bed with you, watching your favorite movies, and comforting you whenever your mood changes.

“If I lay here. If I just lay here. Would you lie with me and just forget the world?”

You could sit there, lay there with Bucky underneath, or have him next to you. His arms are tight around you while you feel the warmth of his body. The way he kisses your forehead whenever you look up at him and the smile on his lips are so soft that you would like to feel and see this all the time. He looks at you almost the whole time when the two of you watch a movie. Bucky just can’t get his eyes off you, especially when you smile or laugh about something. He would love to just capture your cheeks and press his lips on yours, making you his even when you’re already his doll.

“I don’t quite know. How to say. Or how to feel.”

The thought of you being with someone who isn’t Bucky makes him almost throw up. He wants to be the only one who is the reason for your big smile, your brightening eyes, and your beautiful laugh. Bucky would like to be the one who kisses you, holds you close, and cuddles you until you fall asleep. He would like to be the one who kisses your face to wake you up in the most beautiful way you can imagine. Little did he know that you feel the same way he feels for you, but he doesn’t want things to be awkward between the two of you.

“Those three words. Are said too much. They are not enough.”

Bucky is scared of telling you those special three words in the way he wants to tell you. You often tell each other that you love the other one, but he would love to tell you that he loves you. Like you’re the one and only for him; you belong to him, and he can show everything how gorgeous and beautiful his girlfriend is. Like he can tell everyone that you’re going to become his wife and that you carry the kids of the two of you in your pretty belly.

“Forget what we're told. Before we get too old. Show me a garden that’s bursting into life.”

The words are burning on his tongue, and whenever he is around you, Bucky feels like he just tells you all about the way he feels for you. The way he is so in love with you that he feels like he can’t think straight, everything in his mind is you. Whenever you touch him, he has a feeling of butterflies going wild in his stomach, and the spot where your skin is touching his, even when it’s just through the fabric of your clothes, feels like it’s all tingling, and he loves the feeling because he only has it when he is around the person he loves.

“Doll?” Bucky asks softly.

You blink and recognize that you are singing, stopping before you give him your full attention.

“Mhm?”

“Do you trust me?”

“You know I do. I trust you, Bucky,” you say, capturing his cheeks, and the two of you get lost in the moment for a second.

The urge to just lean forward and kiss one another is growing with every second you’re so close. But neither you nor Bucky break the distance between your lips, so scared the other could think it’s awkward. He clears his throat and smiles then.

“Let’s go outside.”

Your smile grows when you understand his plan. You slide the blanket down your body and let him take your hand to lead you through your room and then through the corridors of the building.

When he opens the door and the two of you walk outside, you feel the warm rain soaking your clothes immediately. With Bucky’s hand still in yours, you walk a few steps further away from the building. You tilt your head and close your eyes, letting the rain fall on your face and slowly sliding along your skin. Bucky stands next to you, his smile on his face from one side to the other, while his eyes are focused on you and the raindrops on your soft skin.

“Let’s waste time. Chasing cars. Around our heads,” Bucky sings, making you look at him and see his beautiful face.

His hands find your hips, and he pulls you closer. You wrap your arms around his neck. Bucky holds you tight against him, and when you place your head against his muscular chest, you inhale your favorite smell. Your best friend, the one you love so much. Bucky is the one who is definitely more than just a best friend for you, and he feels and thinks the same way about you.

“I need your grace. To remind me. To find my own.”

Your voices fit perfectly together, and the melody matches like the two of you do. It’s just the two of you, singing in the rain, standing as close as possible while you’re just around each other. With your song, with your love, you and him. With him, you’re feeling completely like every missing piece has found its way and its place, and now you’re complete with him by your side.

When you slowly pull away, Bucky looks at you, opens his eyes, and frowns softly.

“What’s going on in your beautiful mind, doll?”

You could melt when he calls you that. It’s a nickname, like every nickname, right? As much as you tried to tell yourself that it’s still special for you when he calls you by the nickname. When he calls you his best girl, his doll. Like you belong to him, like you’re his and he is yours.

You just smile and sit down on the ground, pulling him with you. When he sits next to you, he groans playfully because of his wet ass, but it causes you both just to laugh before you let yourself softly fall backwards until you lay, and he does the same. Bucky lays next to you, his hand looking for yours, while your feet and shoulders are touching each other. The grin on your face probably competes with the Cheshire Cat, but that doesn't matter. Because no one except Bucky - who is the reason for you being happy like that - can see you right now.

“All that I am. All that I ever was. Is here in your perfect eyes, they’re all I can see.”

Bucky turns his head around, facing you the moment you turn your head towards him as well. He suddenly looks so shy that you want to kiss his pretty, soft lips.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

He chuckles about your cuteness.

“No, doll. I love you.”

“Yes, Bucky. I love you too.”

Now it’s on you to giggle when his expression changes between shy and confused, and then your favorite smile appears on his lips. He gets it; he gets that you love him. Not like a friend, not like your best friend. No, you love him the same way he loves you. Like you belong together, and the things he just dreamed about have yet to come true. You love him. His plans he made whenever you were together can become reality at some point, and he finally doesn’t have to hide his feelings for you anymore.

“I don’t know where. Confused about how as well. Just know that these things will never change for us at all.”

Even when you sing the line, you know that you’re definitely not confused about anything right now. With Bucky's hand in yours and his body so close to yours, you can feel his warmth. Just the two of you in the warm summer rain, laying on the floor, knowing you belong to one another now and that the love you tried to keep a secret is shared between you and Bucky now.

“If I lay here.”

“If I just lay here.”

“Would you lie with me and just forget the world?”

“Of course, my precious doll,” Bucky says, pushing himself up and leaning closer to capture your lips for a soft but passionate kiss. Your hands are still holding one another’s hand while he grabs your waist to hold himself above you and be as close as possible while you share the sweetest first kiss with your love.

Taglist: @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @nicoline1998enilocin @kandis-mom @sergeantbarnessdoll @identity2212 @km-ffluv @lunaalovesyouu @blackhawkfanatic @randomawesomeperson102 @rogersbarber @bucky-barnes-lover @felicitylemon @cjand10 @bookishtheaterlover7 @harleycao @lives-in-midgard @casa-boiardi @futurequeen2018-blog @flstrawberry

[theconstitutionisgayculture]

Indefinite hiatus

I was toying with writing up a long post about what running this blog has meant to me over the years and why I'm stepping away for the foreseeable future, but that feels too dramatic for what's really just me saying "I'm not going to be on tumblr for at least the rest of the year". So, I'll just say I'm not going to be on tumblr for at least the rest of the year.

Okay, actually I have a bunch more to say, but it'll be under the cut.

Politics sucks. And paying attention to it, even in the reduced way I've been paying attention to it over the last few years, is hard. You end up spending so much of your supposedly free time thinking about things you can't change, getting mad about things you can't change, and getting depressed when the people who can change things just keep going in the wrong direction. Even when good things happen, it's just a matter of a few days before something bad happens once again. And vice versa. It's an endless cycle of hope, despair, resignation. Rinse and repeat, and triple speed that cycle during an election year. And I'm tired of it. I'm tired of spending every other year worried about what's going to happen on one day in November. I'm tired of hearing a piece of news and automatically composing a post about it or running through 20 different responses I might give to asks I might get about it in my head.

Everyone I know who doesn't pay attention to politics (or at least doesn't run a social media page dedicated to it) seems to enjoy their live a lot more than I currently do. Which sounds way more dramatic than what's actually going on, which is mainly that I want to get to a place where I just don't care. I want the world and its problems to flow off my back instead of weighing it down. I want to stop thinking about what people on the internet might say about something I haven't even posted yet. And that can't happen while I'm tied to this blog. So I'll be staying away from it for at least the rest of the year.

I did have a good time with this blog. I've met a bunch of really awesome people, some who are sadly no longer with us (RIP Blue), and some who I think will carry on the "fight" way better than I ever did. This isn't an admission of defeat, or pessimism about the election. Even if Trump wins, and I truly think he will if we have a fair election, I still won't be back this year. But I'll still vote and I'll still be proud that my silly little tumblr blog had an impact on some people's lives. I may not have the reach of a Tucker Carlson or a Glenn Beck, but I've gotten a lot of messages from people who said they changed their minds about an issue, or even politics in general, because of things I said, and that counts for something. If you guys take anything away from me, I want it to be this: Even the smallest impact matters. It doesn't matter if you only ever reach one person and then stop, reaching that one person is enough. Changing one vote is enough. Changing one mind is enough.

To all my mutuals, you guys are the best. I truly hope you have wonderful lives and I'm sad I won't get to see your names on my dash everyday anymore. To anyone I've ever followed or reblogged from, I couldn't have had a blog without you, so thank you. Yes, even the leftiod psychos, XD. To everyone else, find your own balance and never give into despair and never listen to people who tell you not to try. Even a failed effort is still more meaningful than sitting back and mocking people for trying to improve even the smallest thing about themselves or the world around them.

I won't be logging back in after I post this, so any messages or asks you send, I won't see. I'll still be active (or as active as I ever am) in my discord, so feel free to join there if you want to. It should still be my pinned post, but if it isn't, I'll edit this with a new invite link.

And that's all I've got to say for now.

[straystarr]

From the Start; lmh

in which you end up getting partnered with the bad boy but it turns into something meaningful. (Somewhat strangers, to friends)

a little soft, a little boring, but comforting (at least I hope)

Blank minds were accompanied by bored expressions and still your professor ignored the dull atmosphere as her words drowned before reaching your ears. Philosophy of sex and love — while immersive in its contents and literature, it was oddly scheduled in the evening of the day. Naturally, you were drained, ready to crawl into bed and sleep the day away. Showing no interest was not your intention, in contrast, this had to be your favourite class of your crammed university schedule. Your days were filled with due dates after due dates. Exam after exam. One long lecture to another. Life was repetitive at the moment. And one can only enjoy the repetition  for so long.

You couldn’t help but allow your pen to draw minimal doodles onto the loose leaf sitting in front of you, anything to keep you sane. It was obvious you weren’t the only numb soul as the room seemed to be suffocating due to cumulative body heat and exaggerated exhaustion.

You were pulled away from your pointless observations, the door to the class swinging open, disrupting the scattered peace in the room as heads lifted at the sudden noise. Your eyes caught a glimpse of his dark clothed figure before you swiftly turned your head back towards your notebook, already anticipating the reactions around you. 

If it were any other late student, every person in the room would have nonchalantly returned to their business, carefree of the lives outside of their own. Instead, waves of whispers brewed as he confidently made his way towards his designated seat, which happened to be right beside your own.

He gave no attention to the soft chaos his presence ignited, but his plain eyes glared at anyone who daringly gazed for more than expected.

Something about Lee Minho always had people on the edge of their seats. Whether it be the countless rumours surrounding his reputation or the way he detached himself from any social setting. 

You never understood it really, the way people obsessed over him. He was popular, for all the wrong reasons. It was either romanticising his ‘cold’ personality or scowling at his existence. How he became known as the bad boy will always remain ridiculous to you. 

Some claim he spends his nights at clubs, some say his personality speaks for itself, others believe only people involved in illicit activity would stain their skin so “excessively”, thrown off by the tattoos visible when his arms were out in the open. Stereotype after stereotype was all it was. You found most of these reasons to be baseless, filled with the flaws of people's own beliefs and values. 

Sure, he wasn’t the friendliest person, but that doesn’t justify the shit he received on a daily basis. Even if what people said was true, what did it have to do with them? He was just living his life. And still, people managed to bury him six feet under. 

He never seemed bothered by the distaste he received, rather amused, a smirk flourishing on his lips with every new story created in his name. Even when all eyes were on him or when assumptions about his life were brought about in conversations, he always stuck to himself, never talking to anyone, a facade of oblivion hanging above his head. 

The only people you’ve ever seen welcomed into his own little world were his group of friends, specifically, Han Jisung and Bang Chan. But even then, he remained conserved, only giving small reactions in contrast to their big personalities. You always wondered how they got along. Jisung was known to be a social butterfly on campus, always waving, always laughing, a person one can’t help but be drawn to. One time, he mistook you for someone else and gave you a back hug, spending the next five minutes on his knees profusely apologizing for touching you. Chan was more laid back, but he enjoyed the company of other people. He always lightened the mood with his cheerful and calm persona.

Their relationship took the concept ‘opposites attract’ and played it into reality. It was comforting knowing such a friendship existed in a complex world. 

“Can I borrow a pen?” The request came from your right, somewhat hidden in your professor's speech about Vrangalova’s association of love and commitment to sex. You met eyes with him, face stoic and reserved, expectant of your generosity. It wasn’t the first time he had asked you for a pen, and it wouldn’t be the last time you held one towards him. “Thanks.” He muttered, eyes already gone from your sight. You smiled in response, even if he couldn’t see it. It was moments like this that solidified your liking towards him. 

In a way, you cared for Minho, watching from the sidelines, stealing little glances whenever he was in the room or catching yourself frowning every time his name was carelessly thrown around. It’s not that you had a crush on him, or that you pitied him, but it’s the same way you get concerned when you see a friend stumble. You flinch as you imagine their potential pain. You hope they're ok. And then you move on with your life. It is possible, and it does happen — caring for someone you know nothing about. The same way you can hate someone you know nothing about. 

You sucked in your bottom lip as your pen tapped a rhythm onto the table. His body became clearer in your peripheral, bringing the rhythm to a pause. His thigh slightly brushed against yours, sinking into the chair with his body shifting into a comfortable position. And like clockwork, the wave of gossip diminished as time passed by, and your eyes only continued to fall, forcing you to use all your energy to keep them open. 

“I’ll be ending the lecture early. But I am assigning a group paper since it seems as though you all would not be able to complete one on your own, judging from the lack of enthusiasm. To make things simple, your partner will be whoever is sitting to your right. All you need to do is research……” Her voice echoed into the air as you hesitantly moved your head to the right. Your eyebrows trailed up in surprise due to the set of eyes already directed at you. 

Minho raised his hand to his cheek, resting against his fingers as he cocked his head to the side. “Y/n, right?” An unconscious smile bloomed upon hearing your name, to which he straightened his posture. Your smile threw him off. He could always guess a person's intentions by their smile. It’s either genuine, or it’s not.  And he almost always received the latter. But with you, that wasn’t the case. He found himself fascinated at how quickly the smile came and left. It was an authentic reaction.  

It was new to him. And he simply didn’t know how to react.

“You know my name?” 

“I’ve been stealing your pens for a whole semester. How can I not?”

He was talking more than he was used to. What should have been a yes or no answer turned into an invitation to continue the conversation. And he again, didn’t know why. The side of your lips dropped at the sudden coldness glazing over his face but you thought nothing of it as you nodded and began to pack your things. “We should start the project tomorrow, are you available?” Standing, you twisted your head to look at him once again to which he just nodded before pushing himself off from his seat. 

Your fingers curled under your notebook, instinctively tightening your hold to no avail as he seized it from your hands. A sound of confusion choked from the back of your throat, prompting the questioning look you sent him as he began to write something down. Bringing his head up, he processed your stare, an unexpected wave of caution flooding his system as he placed the notebook back in your hands.

“My address.” The awkwardness he displayed was fresh compared to the certainty he previously held in his actions. “Unless you’d like to work on campus, I just assumed you wouldn’t since everyone is camping out here with the semester coming to an end—” Your shoulders vibrated from the amused giggle in your throat.

He was rambling, and you quite enjoyed it.

His nostrils flared upon hearing your stifled tune. It was odd, he found himself trying his best to ignore the urge to smile along with you. It was barely a success as he patiently waited for you to speak, a hand coming to rub his warm ear. “Maybe we can head to your place together after class tomorrow?” You advised, bag already over your shoulder and coat hanging from your arm, you were eager to leave. But the quick interaction with the stranger who always had your attention lined your thoughts amidst the fatigue. “Yeah— yeah, that works.” He said with a curt nod. Twisting in place, your hand flew in the air, fingers waving ever so slightly.  “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

His lips fell apart, watching as you marched your way out of the room. He couldn’t read your mind, but he so badly wanted to. Because the many questions swarming in his head just about drove him crazy. You were weird. At least in the sense that he didn’t mind your presence. He didn’t mind how easy going you were or how you made him conscious of himself. He didn’t mind that you laughed at him or how he so easily talked to you. You intrigued him. You had ever since you were paired to sit together. And it scared him. He always wanted to talk to you — really talk to you, none of this pen borrowing bullshit he settled for even when his pencil case lay untouched in his bag. 

And now that he has, your voice echoed in his head like a soft melody, to which he paused the tune, frightened to dance along to the beat. 

“Are you feeling any better?” 

“I think so.” He managed to moan out. 

You turned your head away from the screen of your computer, waist twisting in place as you caught ahold of his weary eyes, soon widening at the sudden eye contact. It was a few hours after class had ended. You weren’t really keeping track. But you were constantly checking up on the boy who lay on the couch you leaned on.

“You sound like shit. And you still look like shit.” Your observation fell on deaf ears, your eyes blurred against the rays of the white screen staring back at you. “I’m fine.” He sniffled, buried in the blankets you had wrapped around him with care.

And to think a few hours ago, you were frustrated with him, having travelled from University to an unknown area with the only hope that the address messily written in your notebook would lead you to Minho. The frustration grew with each second you loitered in the apartment's hallway. You didn’t want to assume anything when Minho never showed up for class. So you took it upon yourself to find out what was going on.

And there you stood, a deep sigh collapsing along with your eyes as your knuckles came in contact with the door one last time. Pulling your hand away, you clicked your tongue against the top of your mouth, analyzing the options you had left. God seemed to take pity on you as the door swung open, sending you staggering backwards, hand over your chest with your eyes now wide open. 

Although his face was barely visible with the hood that covered his head, his feline eyes peeked through the fringes of his hair naturally covering his forehead. The scowl on Minho's face melted upon recognizing your startled figure. Tucking his hands into the pockets of his grey sweatpants, his body fell onto the doorframe. He was very much surprised with your visit, but his blank stare intimidated you into thinking your efforts may have gone to waste. 

Guilt crawled into his skin, unsure whether to explain himself or let you assume what you wanted. He would usually give less than a fuck, but with you — with you, he didn’t know what to do. A sigh of relief was given as you felt somewhat reassured by Minho’s presence. 

Readjusting the bag hanging over your shoulder, you paused as you felt the reassurance being replaced with confusion. You were ready to bombard him with the questions clouding your mind. Why wasn’t he at school? Did he expect you to finish everything yourself? Did he really not give a shit? Did he not like you? 

But the wandering questions were easily dismissed upon noticing the way Minho couldn’t seem to hold himself up, continuously leaning against the door frame. It wasn’t until frail sniffles came from the boy in front of you, his head tossed to the side as if to silence himself. It was then you noticed how his cheeks were painted in a harsh shade of pink, the way he tried to softly clear his throat, the shadows under his eyes. 

“I couldn’t go to school today and I didn’t know how to contact you—”

“You look like shit.”

The statement shot through his already weak state, but he wasn’t offended. Instead, a loose chuckle caressed his tongue as you smiled in return. You began to rock on your feet, unaware of what to do or say. Minho observed your actions, carefully stepping aside as his hand pointed towards the inside of his home. He didn’t approve of what he was doing, but he didn’t necessarily oppose it either. He was just as lost as you were.

Your body failed to move, eyes blinking while you began to comprehend his gestures. “What? You didn’t come here just to check up on me.” Dropping his hand to the side of his body, Minho raised an eyebrow, eyes glazing over the words that barely made their way out of your mouth.  “I think you should use this time to try to get better, I’ll just finish the project—“ “I can’t let you complete it by yourself.”

Your eyes fixated on the back of his head as he trudged into his home, leaving you to gawk at his figure, hesitation confronting you as you consciously entered through the door frame that separated you from the outside world. Minho watched as you observed the surroundings. It was nothing like you’d imagine, but also seemed to fit him very well.

The living room consisted of a brown leather couch and a circular glass table. Nothing seemed out of place, every decoration he had with a purpose. “Why hello there.” You crouched down, hands fluffing the cat that arrived at your feet. You directed your gaze to Minho. “I didn’t take you for a cat dad.” Minho picked up the cat at your feet before placing him on a cat tree tucked away in the corner of the room that you failed to notice. “I have three.” He managed to say. 

Nodding in awe, you set your bag down onto the wooden floor in front of the table, your body sinking as your jeans hit the cold ground. Burrowing his eyebrows, Minho gazed at you with curious eyes. “You can sit on the couch?” You lifted your head as you set your laptop on the table, a smile growing on your face while your hands strung your hair into a loose bun.  “I prefer the floor.” Your causality ignited a comfortable atmosphere to which he found himself drawn to. His feet carried him towards the couch behind you as he slumped onto it, his sick body hindering him from acting any further. The simple fact that you spit out about yourself traced through his mind, unknowingly settling in the depths of his memory. 

“You can rest for now, I’ll let you know when I need your help.” Your focus was directed towards the screen of your laptop, completely oblivious to the boy whose lips were ever so slightly curved into a smirk. “That’s not how it’s supposed to work.” A string of coughs followed his response, much to his dismay. “Yeah well, we have underlying circumstances so just listen and I don’t know, heal?” There it was again. That light tune that so easily infiltrated his thoughts. The sarcasm laced in your voice only humoured the smirk on his face, somehow guiding it to curve into a light smile as he continued to stare at the back of your head. 

How odd it was for him — for him to do as he pleased, not having to shelter himself into the colourless character he lived. How odd it was for him to lie there on a random Friday, a mere stranger on his living room floor as he tried to get some sleep. Well, at least he knew your name. He liked your name. And he was so at ease with the person linked to the name. “Why did you want to work here?” Your question halted his thoughts. “I don’t like public places.” He said with eyes closed. You absently nodded, fingers typing away. “Why don’t you like public places?” He remained quiet for longer than anticipated. “I don’t really like people.”

Silence corrupted the air, bringing your chest to slowly rise in contrast to its previous pattern. 

Your eyes soon landed on his face, as your head twisted in place, focus no longer directed towards the gleaming screen of your computer. It occurred to you that the line of questioning was heavy, too heavy and you were in no position to ask him such heavy questions. Especially with his weak state. Minho opened his eyes, his gaze trailed on the ceiling, avoiding your hard stare as the two of you shared the understanding that explanation was to follow. Although you were aware of the reason.

“I'm sorry.”

The apology was louder than a whisper but not quite full in tone. You inhaled, slowly turning back around as the hot air left your nose. The tapping of your fingers began again, spelling out a sentence that lacked your attention. “Why do you prefer the floor?” Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, nonchalantly resuming as your shoulders moved up and down in oblivion. “I’m not sure. I just find it more comfortable.” He hummed in acknowledgement, making an effort to rise from his place but immediately groaning while trying. 

“Now what happened in the span of a day that you went from being all healthy to barely being able to move?” You asked, still typing away on your computer. Minho sighed, embarrassed and hesitant to explain the ridiculous events that occurred the previous night. But with the way your expectant eyes gleamed in the dark room, his lips betrayed him. “Jisung made me dance in the rain last night because you apparently only live once.” His voice was barely a whisper towards the end but that only solidified the giggle shaking your body. Minho smiled, conscious of the highs and lows of your laugh and somehow harmonizing with the one coming from his sore throat.

You listened to Minho’s laugh, fully aware that this was the first time you had heard it. It was pretty and contagious. And you couldn’t help but think about how nice it would be to hear it more often. “So you’re telling me, you’ve lived every girl's dream.” Your cheeks were full with pressure from the grin on your face. Minho’s smile melted into a smirk. “Jealous much?” You nodded before standing up. “Very much so.” 

Minho found himself searching for you as you made your way out of his sight. But soon enough, you returned, a bowl in one hand while you kneeled beside him. You hesitated before laying your hand flat against his forehead, falling to his cheek. “I think you have a fever.” Minho weakly hummed, unsure what to say. So he continued to watch you dip a towel into the bowl, lifting his bangs up before placing it on his forehead. The cool material felt nice against his hot body, prompting him to close his eyes.

He felt vulnerable. He was vulnerable. Never would he allow someone so physically close to him unless it was his friends. But here you were, hand to his cheek with no ounce of refusal in his gut. You were as close as anyone could get with him, and it only took you a few hours to do so. Perhaps that’s why he continued to speak, susceptible to you in ways he couldn’t quite understand. “People let you down.” His voice was frail, but you caught his words. “It's like they’ve pieced my life together without even asking me about the details.” He didn’t need to ask whether you understood what he was referring to, because with the way your face slightly fell, he knew you weren’t immune to the rumours. 

“People suck.” You left the towel on his forehead, turning away as you settled back down in front of your computer. “We make assumptions in order to help us understand the world. Even if our assumptions are ill-mannered. What makes sense to us, protects us.” You paused, now looking at him. “I’m sorry you’re experiencing the consequences of other people’s actions.” You spoke quietly, your bottom lip slightly pushed forward.

Minho said nothing, offered no expression of regard. Instead, he cleared his throat, letting his eyes fall shut. You bit your bottom lip, unsure how to interpret his nonchalance and choosing to continue whatever you were typing. “I’d like for you to hear about them.” Your fingers lay still against your keyboard. “The details.” The breath you were holding blew past your lips, subtly. “Well, you can tell me all about them while I finish up this paper of ours.” You stated, a smile threatening to break out on your face, a low murmur of acknowledgement coming from behind you. 

“How many pages have you done?” 

“Two.” 

“How many do we need done?”

 “Twelve.” 

Minho’s eyes shot open. “I— what have you been typing this whole time, I thought you had this shit locked and loaded.” You swiftly faced him, arms crossed over your chest. “I’m sorry for being invested in our conversation.” Your tone was entirely satire and he could only groan in disbelief. You both stared at each other, your face relaxing while his lit up, smiles breaking out as laughter filled the air.

“Should we ask for an extension?” Miho forced himself up, now sitting against the couch. “I emailed her the minute I opened my computer.” You shrugged, reaching for the towel that was now lopsided on his forehead. Minho could only stare at you with wide eyes. “Why’d you stay?” You tilted your head in confusion, as if it were obvious why you had been here for the past hour or so. “I wasn't going to leave you here to rot.” His lips parted slightly. 

He had your voice paused in his mind, replaying it to familiarize himself with your tone. He liked you. This he knew. And was more than willing to accept. It was new for him to welcome someone so eagerly into his small world, but with the way you dipped the towel into the bowl of water and casually placed it back onto his forehead, he knew a new friend would do no harm and probably more good than he deserved. His soul welcomed your presence. Something he’d never come to regret.

“I’ll invite you next time.” “Next time?” You continued to pat the towel down, retracting your hand and making eye contact. Minho nodded. “When Jisung asks me to dance in the rain with him.” You blinked slowly. You didn’t think much of Minho when you first sat beside him in class, other than his obvious physical attraction, you knew nothing but his fabricated reputation. And yet, here you sat in his living room, worried and cautious over him while simultaneously laughing and enjoying his company.

You were unaware that he would soon become someone you’d think the world of, someone who’d make you laugh a little harder and feed your soul. Until then, he remained the boy who borrowed your pens, had a pretty laugh, and was sick from dancing in the rain.

“I’d like that.”

AN: A gentle or not so gentle reminder that this is written fanfiction. xoxo

𝙎𝙏RAy𝙎𝙏𝘼𝙍r★