#and he knows how to do things himself that's not a question here it's just — he's so used to having someone right there

[sonrium]

That second point yanked Batman instantly and unwillingly by the throat to Phantom's side.

He couldn't speak out knowing the rest of the League wouldn't approve, so he let the discussion run its course, and Phantom was naturally denied.

But Batman is nothing if not thorough, and compiling DNA profiles would also help with contingencies. So Batman discretely reaches out after the meeting to give Phantom his personal permission as long as he provides the DNA samples and that Phantom understands that Batman cannot publicly defend him, but he will mitigate the consequences behind the scenes.

After another biting incident when Phantom is getting lectured by Superman:

"Phantom, you can't keep doing this. This is your last warning. Criminals or not, it's never okay to bite people just because you want to. Control yourself, or you might have to rethink your place in the Justice League."

Phantom staring at his feet and genuinely worried that he might get kicked out. He didn't think it was that big a deal.

Batman walks up and simply states. "He is controlling himself."

"Batman, you call that control? I'm trying to be understanding, but Phantom is biting criminals more than ever."

"Are they still breathing?"

"I don't see how-"

"Are their limbs still attached?"

"What are you-?"

Batman gives Superman a hard look to stop him mid question. "Acording to Constantine, ghosts from the Infinite Realms are creatures that should be avoided at all costs due to their extremely volatile nature. Generally, it's a death sentence to ever encounter one."

Superman turned to the child he'd been scolding, shocked that any of that could possibly be true about his colleague. The same colleague, who was so gentle he almost cried when he accidently killed a spider in the dining hall. "Is that true?"

Danny, glancing up but unable to meet Superman's eyes, "Yea-yeah. Intense violence is actually how most ghosts socialize. Regrowing limbs isn't a big deal for ghosts, so they tend to forget how fragile humans are."

Batman continues with his explanation, "In the Infinite Realms, ghosts have evolved to attack anything that moves as a defense due to how hostile the environment is. Everything from the plants to the very ground could attack at any moment. Their version of compassion is controlling their instincts before the killing blow. The fact that Phantom rarely attacks anybody is a testament to his constant and vigillent self-control."

Danny finally meets Superman's eyes and they are nothing but pools of liquid innocence and shame about his very being. "I'm sorry... I'm doing my best, but my ghost instincts are really hard to control, especially when emotions are high and we are carching bad guys, and I can't help but bite. But I promise, I will never let it go any farther than that."

Intense guilt washes over Superman. He knew how seriously Phantom took his promises. He had no idea he was asking Phantom to go against his very nature. Did Phantom have to hold himself back right now? Superman knew a thing or two about how scarily fragile human bodies were to someone like him. He couldn't imagine having instincts that screamed at him to attack anything that moved on top of that.

Batman turned to his old friend with a disapproving stare. "Maybe learn a thing or two before you judge our nonhuman members. I expected better from you."

Superman placed his hands on Phantom's shoulders. "I'm so sorry. I had no idea. Do the best you can. We can figure out the rest together. Please forget everything I said earlier."

Danny with hope sparking in his eyes, "Are you sure? I know im not perfect, but I want to stay. I really like it here, and I really like helping people."

"Of course. I'll let the others know." Superman walks away down the hall, and out of sight.

Danny grinned, lifted his eyebrows, and nodded toward where Superman ran off to convey his thanks for the save.

Batman gave a quick nod and a tiny, barely there smile of his own. He spoke aloud for the one with superhearing that was definitely still listening, "I apologize for any offense you may have taken. Know that the sentiments of Superman are not shared by the rest of us."

Danny pulled the zip lock baggie out of his pocket and silently handed it to Batman with a grin. It had a napkin smeared with the blood of Danny's most recent biting victim labeled in Sharpie. Danny responded in a wobbly voice that did not match his mischivous grin, "Thanks." He added a sniffle for effect. "I needed to hear that. I'm really doing the best I can, but i guess people dont see it that way."

After this incident, Superman became Danny's biggest defender against the biting accusations.

Danny Phantom, who as far as the Justice League knew was a normal ghost, was presenting a pointpoint in front of the rest of the League. The presentation says, "Why I should be allowed to bite criminals: 1, because I am not human and cannot catch any of your filthy human diseases. 2, because it would allow us to compile DNA samples from the criminals of the world to compare with during crime scene investigation. 3, Fuck you."

[hoshifighting]

LYLAAAAAAAAA OMG ILYSM EAT ABD SKEEP AND DRINK WELL!!!

if you don't mind a req, Jihoon (or svt reaction) when he finds how good it feels to use a shower spray against the hoohaa

clit stimulation using shower spray w woozi <33

WARNINGS: situationship!woozi, bath sex, using shower head to masturbate, dirty talk, mentions of body fluids (cum)

it always started like this with jihoon—blurred lines that somehow felt crystal clear when you were with him. like, you knew what it was, but did you really? dude would pass by your place at 10 p.m. like, “you eat yet? i got chicken katsu.” then, five hours later, he’s snoring on your couch, legs tangled with yours, an arm slung over your stomach like he lived there. and yeah, maybe he didn’t outright say things, but actions...oh, he was fluent.

tonight wasn’t any different. except it was.

you were mid-rant to your group chat about some guy hitting on you at the café when jihoon’s name popped up. jihoon: "should i bring dumplings or ramen? heading over." like. no question if you wanted him over; just straight vibes of "you good? i’m on my way."

fast-forward, and somehow, you ended up here—in the shower, your body pressed up against the tiles while jihoon held your leg like he was tuning a guitar. the steam made everything feel hazy, as he rinsed the soapy bubbles from your body.

the shower spray hit your inner thigh, the pressure tracing lazy lines up to places he wasn’t even aiming for. “lift a little,” he mumbled, voice low like the water could hear him. his hand slid behind your knee, steadying you like it wasn’t a big deal, but when that stream hit right at your clit. your breath stuttered, sharp enough to make his brows knit together.

“what?” he asked, head tilting like a curious cat. the fucker.

you shook your head, mortified.

his lips twitched, like he didn’t fully buy it, but he adjusted the angle anyway, aiming higher. too high. a broken moan fell out of your mouth, and your hand flew to his shoulder, digging in like it could stop time. it didn’t.

jihoon froze, the stream still very much pressing where it shouldn’t. “wait.” his tone was careful, but the corners of his mouth betrayed him. “does that—does it feel good?”

you groaned, smacking your forehead against his collarbone. “don’t.”

“i’m not judging!” he insisted, but the joy in his voice was hella obvious. “just—wait. do you do this by yourself? like, on purpose?”

“oh my god, stop talking.” you could feel your face burning, like the steam was actively conspiring against you.

jihoon chuckled under his breath, this low, knowing sound that made your embarrassment worse. “okay, okay. no answer needed.” he adjusted the spray, the water softening into a gentler stream, but he didn’t let go of your leg. didn’t pull away either.

the shower went silent for a beat, save for the soft patter of water hitting tiles. you thought that was it—mortification over, donezo. until jihoon, of course, had to ruin it.

“so... you want me to keep going?”

your gaze flickered to him, catching the way his eyes softened regardless the sneer tugging at his lips. you bit your lip, heart pounding louder than the water. and then, quietly, like you were confessing to a crime, you mumbled, “mhmm.”

his grip on your leg tightened just a fraction, his smirk deepening. “okay,” he whispered, so gentle it made your chest ache. “just relax, yeah?”

his hand tightened around your thigh like he was steadying himself, except you knew it was for you. the spray hadn’t moved yet, still teasing the edge of your inner thigh, the warm water trailing in lazy streaks down your skin. jihoon adjusted his grip slightly, his thumb grazing the back of your knee.

“you good?” his voice was soft, almost too soft, and when you peeked up at him, his eyes weren’t mocking anymore. he looked focused. calm. it made your chest twist in ways you weren’t ready to deal with.

you nodded, swallowing hard. “yeah.”

“okay.” he glanced down, adjusting the showerhead with his free hand, the click of the spray setting sounding far too loud in the intimate quiet of the bathroom. then, like he’d done it a thousand times before, he tilted the stream closer, the water landing in a direct line that made your toes curl.

“jihoon—” your voice cracked, half his name, half a choke, and your body jolted on reflex. the spray circled over your clit, not quite a flick but not soft either, the pressure just shy of overwhelming.

he paused instantly, pulling the water back. “too much?”

“no, no,” you rushed, your hand gripping his shoulder like it was your lifeline. “just—fuck, i wasn’t ready.”

his lips curved into the faintest smirk, a tiny dimple ghosting one cheek. “should’ve said something. i could’ve warned you.”

you grumbled, heat blooming up your neck, he was already moving again, guiding the water in slow circles. it was gentle at first, the warmth rolling over you, but as he shifted his wrist, tilting the angle just slightly, the stream narrowed, honing in on that one spot.

your hips bucked forward, a strangled whine slipping from your throat, and jihoon chuckled low under his breath. “there it is,” he murmured, almost like he was talking to himself. “feels good, hmm?”

you wanted to snap at him, to tell him to stop talking like he wasn’t wrecking you in the middle of your own bathroom, but the words dissolved into a needy moan as he flicked the stream upward, the water hitting just right. your fingers dug into his arm, and you swore your knees might give out.

“careful,” he said, his tone shifting to something softer, his hand sliding to cup your hip as his forearm holds the back of your knee now, grounding you. “don’t go falling on me now.”

“easy for you to say,” you bit out, your voice trembling, but he only hummed in response.

he switched the spray again, this time narrowing it even more, and when he angled it just below your clit, letting the water ripple against you in a teasing rhythm, your head tipped back against the tile. “holy fuck,” you choked, legs trembling.

jihoon’s smirk widened, but his grip didn’t falter. “yeah?” he asked. “you like that, hmm?”

your only response was a broken whimper, and his hand flexed against your hip like he was fighting the urge to pull you closer. “relax,” he murmured, his voice steady even as his own breath hitched slightly. “just let it happen. i got you.”

you did relax, maybe too much, because the next moment, your leg wobbled, your body sliding just enough to make you panic. but jihoon moved instantly, catching you before you could even process it, his arm locking around your waist while he adjusted the spray back to that perfect rhythm.

“gotcha,” he said, and there was something in his voice—pride, maybe, or just satisfaction at the way you melted into him. “thought you were gonna make me work for it.”

you glared weakly at him, your cheeks burning, but it only made him laugh, the sound soft and familiar, grounding you even as your body threatened to unravel.

“don’t worry,” he added, his voice dipping as the spray circled again, the pressure building making your vision blur. “i’m not stopping ‘til you’re begging me to.”

jihoon adjusted the spray again, sharper now, the stream jolting directly onto your clit. it wasn’t gentle, wasn’t soft. the sound that ripped from your throat wasn’t human, and your body arched against the tile, your back curving like a bowstring pulled too tight. your neck stretched, your breasts lifting as your lungs fought for air, and he didn’t move.

he just watched. studied, really. his eyes darted between yours, flicking from one to the other, then down to your parted lips, swollen and trembling. but then, as if he couldn’t resist, his gaze fell lower, trailing the path of your shivering belly, your chest rising and falling in frantic bursts.

his grip on your waist tightened, keeping you steady as your legs buckled again. the way you shook wasn’t subtle—your entire body was trembling, your muscles pulled taut under his hands. but jihoon didn’t stop. he tilted the stream slightly, letting the water flick at just the right angle again, and the sound that escaped you was downright obscene, echoing off the walls of the bathroom.

“fuck, jihoon—” your voice cracked on his name, and the way his lips twitched into a barely-there smirk made you want to scream for an entirely different reason.

“yes?” he asked, his tone smooth, but his breath wasn’t. it was uneven, shaky, like he was feeling this just as much as you were. “i can feel it—you’re so close.”

he was right. too right. the pressure built and built, your thighs clenching around nothing as your core tightened, heat pooling low in your belly and spilling over. the water, the angle, his goddamn voice—it was all too much.

“hoon, i—fuck, i’m—” the words dissolved into a scream as your orgasm tore through you. your hips jerked forward, your body trembling uncontrollably as the spray kept hitting that same devastating spot. your moans were loud, messy, your breath hitching in sobs as your climax rolled on.

jihoon didn’t move, his hand firm on your waist, keeping you upright as your legs gave out completely. he looked mesmerized, his jaw tight, his eyes flickering between your face and your trembling pussy. “fuck,” he whispered like he didn’t mean for you to hear it.

but the spray didn’t let up. even as you sagged against him, your hands clutching his arms for dear life, the water kept its merciless rhythm, and your overstimulated nerves lit up like fireworks. “jihoon,” you whimpered. “s-stop—too much, it’s—”

he blinked out of his trance, his fingers brushing your hip in silent reassurance before he turned the showerhead aside, finally giving you mercy. the sudden absence of stimulation left you gasping.

jihoon’s gaze dropped, and when he saw it—saw the string of your cum clinging to your folds before dripping down to the tile—his breath hitched. it was wet, but wasn’t water; it couldn’t have been. it was too viscous, too familiar. the memory of your taste, sweet and unique flickered in his mind, and he swallowed hard.

[robo-writing]

helloooo

I’ve recently gotten into call of duty and I make a humble request 🕺

could I have a ghost x afab!reader who’s usually innocent and stuff, but tries to seduce him or something? Take your time!! I love your work

I don’t think I’m ever gonna get used to people saying they love my writing 🥹

His squadmates check up on him occasionally—especially Soap, nosey as he is. For everything that they've gone through together they practically know nothing about Simon, and he likes it this way. Not to say that he doesn't trust them, but because Simon's a solitary creature, nothing more. However, it's surprising to the entire team when he off-handedly mentions that he's picked up a new hobby recently—bird-watching.

Immediately questions are fired off, but much to everyone's annoyance Simon only smiles as he takes another swig of beer. They almost suspect him of lying; he's not. His favorite past-time is making his way to his local haunt—9:00 pm sharp, every Friday—all to watch the pretty little bird behind the bar. He hasn’t missed a day, a regular customer every week for the past three months.

He likes the atmosphere, he likes how no one seems to ask questions about the 6’4 beast that orders his whiskey neat and sits alone in the corner—even more than that, he likes how you greet him with a smile every time he walks through the door.

Adorable really, how you fly about the bar, chirping out orders at the speed of light. More than once he’s had the opportunity to talk to you, and more than once have you averted your eyes from him, made yourself busy in hopes that you could hide the obvious attraction written on your face.

It never works, but he likes that about you.

He likes how you stumble over your words, how you meekly offer him a refill once his glass is empty, how your face lights up when he purposely lets his fingers touch your own when you set down a new glass. It's easy to let his mind wander knowing how easily riled up you are, and let it wander he does. Sensitive little birdy, he thinks to himself. Wonder how you'd react if his fingers were stroking your clit instead.

His pretty little birdie, shy little thing you are. So shy that you can’t bring yourself to express your little crush with words, but it’s alright—he knows—and he's willing to play this game for as long as you want it to go on. He's a patient man. It's February now, and it seems as if you're ready for this game to end. Among the red streamers and paper hearts that decorate the bar is you, and the cute red set you're so excited to show him. "I got the boss to sign off on it, see?" You ramble excitedly, stepping away for a single moment to show off your low-cut top and jeans to match. "Isn't it so cute?" He's the only one that gets this special treatment, the sight of you doing a 360 almost enough to make him reach across the bar. "Mhm," he agrees, far too engrossed in the shape of your ass than the color of your outfit. "Y'look amazing birdie." You bow your head in embarrassment at the nickname, unable to see how Simon's lips curl upward in response. "How am I supposed to react when you say things like that..." "It's a compliment. I don't say shit I don't mean." Again, you feel your face heat up at the implication, surprising yourself with a sudden burst of confidence. "You really mean that, don't you?" "I do. You think I don't?" "I think you're a flirt," you reply, the timbre of his voice sending shivers up your spine when he answers— "I'd be more than happy to prove just how honest I am, birdie." The look he sends you is nothing short of a promise, eyes boring into your own as he takes a sip. He knows, and you're willing to guess that he's known for a while based how how quick he is to laugh at your befuddled expression. "That's—I mean—" He sets his glass down slowly, tilting his head towards you. "Am I reading something wrong here?" You stumble over your words, barely muttering out a meek little "no" under your breath as he leans in close, enough to smell the liquor on his breath. "So, if I ain't wrong, feel free to meet me in the back after closing. I'd hate for you to think I'm a liar." Hours later, he found the answer to the question of how you'd react with his fingers against your clit—turns out you're even more sensitive than he imagined.

[miniaturesuitgladiator]

Batfam x Neglected mortal combat reader

Lucid dreams ll

Notes: this is part two of lucid dreams.

Warnings: child abuse and ofc killing people.

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

If someone had asked you "do you like it on this earth better than your original one?" You would've said no. You didn't. That even if on this earth you didn't get hit daily or train nearly to death. You still preferred your other earth were you were on born.

Yes it was brutal, but isn't gotham? And yeah maybe bruce doesn't hit you and and make you train until you pass out ,but atleast your father acknowledged you and he probably loved you in some kind of twisted way.

Sadly you'd never get asked the question 'do you like this earth better then your original one?' Because no one knows that your from another earth other than your family, bruce and your adopted siblings....but even they don't care to ask. 'Why would they' you think to yourself they don't care.

It's been two days since you brought jason back ,and Alfred said that if you wouldn't have found him when you did he probably would've died from loss of blood. But you doubt that. Your sure the joker would've kept him alive longer just to hear him scream.

Yesterday jason woke up. And surprisingly he remembered that you had been the one to save him. He wanted to talk to you ,but you couldn't look at him. Not with how you felt.

It seemed like bruce hadn't wanted jason to see you either. Because when jason mentioned you bruce quickly tried to change the subject. You knew bruce well enough to know that he's never quite liked you. You knew that he only put up with you for your mother. And you killing the joker was probably his final straw.

'It's always you isn't it?' Is what damian always tells you and maybe the ten year old is right. It is always you. You always disappoint people. Atleast lately you have. You've tried so hard to be perfect. To keep up. But you can't.....

You remember the fight with your mother the day that you brought jason home. You remember the look in her eyes. The fear.

You were sent to your room and banned from going out on patrol. It's not like it mattered anyway. Because gotham didn't even know you were a hero. Bruce had always kept you in the shadows. Never to be seen. You were the last option.

Bruce knew you were stronger than Robin and himself with your fire abilities that you inherited from your father.

But he still didn't want you to be seen. So you stayed away from the spotlight and were only seen when especially needed. It didn't bother you when Robin got the fame and you got nothing. You were happy to just be included. But now you see even in patrolling Gotham you weren't included. You were hidden......

That being said you should be in bed. In your room with your eyes closed ,asleep. But your not. You sit on a building that you know batman and robin won't patrol. You know that no one will find you where you are. You're no where near cameras for tim to track. And you don't have on your suite......Oddly your in you pjs... just sitting on a random roof. You probably look crazy being on a roof at 2am but it is gotham. And weirder things are seen at 2am.

There's only one person that could find you.

And sadly he's right behind you. You sigh feeling upset that you aren't alone anymore. And if you hadn't been trained so well by him you wouldn't have heard his steps. But he knows you know he's there. And yet the air is still silent.

" Why are here grandfather? " You had said still looking at the stars. Your grandfather Lin Kuei the great and feared warrior remains silent for a moment before he begins speaking.

"Do you regret it?" He says and you're no fool. You know exactly what he means but still your mind doesn't want to answer. "Do you regret killing the joker?" He says a bit more firmly than when he had asked the previous time. He leaves no room for questions to prolong time. His question is direct and firm. But your jaw clenches and your eyes can't look away from the beauty of the stars.

Your chest feels heavy. "I came here to get away from my actions and yet you bring them to me." You say to your grandfather. Your words are Sharp and if it had been any other week you wouldn't have ever spoke to your grandfather in that way. But this week has been.....intense.

"Your a Kuei. We do not run away from are actions we face them. Even if we do not like the outcome. And most importantly we are not cowards." He says and you don't have to look at him to know that he's getting impatient. He wants the answer.

"I'm not a Kuei grandfather or a Wayne. I'm a Hasashi," You say and the words almost burn your tongue. Because surprisingly it does hurt knowing your a monster....

Your grandfather eyes narrow as if he's looking at a completely different person. But you don't see that so you continue speaking. "Isn't that right?" You say. Your grandfather knows you don't mean the words you say in a disrespectful way. Your just taking a stand. And surprisingly he likes that.

"A Hasashi?....No, your no Hasashi." Your grandfather says. And the air goes silent again but you can feel how tense it really is. "That's what my mother thinks." You say and you mean it, you truly do. And your grandfather sees that. And wishes you would look him in the eyes but he has feeling he wouldn't like what he would see if you did. No, he knows he wouldn't like what he would see. .

Your grandfather has seen you as you've grown and he's watched with pride and love as you've made your way into an amazing fighter and young women. And he knows that you can be better than scorpion or sub zero. You could be the best. But he doesn't want that.

No, right now he wants to see tears in your eyes.

He wants to know that you didn't listen to your father when he told you that warriors don't cry. Because your grandfather knows that he taught that to your father.. He wants to know that you aren't as broken as he is.....

And your gaze doesn't seem to turn away from the stars for even a second. And you don't realize what your doing to your grandfather who stands behind.... Your breaking his heart.

His cold and probably dark heart is breaking. Such weakness hasn't been seen in him in years and yet he stands behind you with a heavy chest and glossy eyes.. "Do you regret killing the joker," he asked once more.

And his voice sounds different and it catches your attention immediately. So you stand and turning around you see him. You see his eyes and how there slightly different. You see how his breathing is heavy. And you see all these things because He taught you how to.

You feel your jaw go loose. And for a moment your in complete shock. And in this moment you feel the same way you did when you saw the fear in your mother's eyes. Because now you've also disappointed him.

"I dont." You say and it's like your chest isn't as heavy as it was moments before. You've finally said it. And doesn't burn like you expected it to. It feels...nice. "am I monster?" And when you say those three words you sound exactly like a child. A child that just desperately wants to be seen differently.

And his chest tightens more. And for once in your grandfather's life he's scared. He's scared to speak. He doesn't want to hurt you more than you've already been hurt. So he stays silent. And watches as you search his eyes trying to guess his answer. Just like He taught you.

"You're no monster my child. Only human."

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

Thanks for reading!

Taglist: @dhanyasri , @kore-of-the-underworld , @i-adorehannah

[thedaselcor]

Here's my take on this one, I did it as my Chater 13!

Thorsday, the 2nd of Maius, 524.

Arthur woke to Merlin thrashing, convulsing through some sort of night terror. He held Merlin close, and tried to keep him from injuring himself through the spasms, but he was entirely uncertain whether that was even the right thing to do.

He noticed, as the minutes went on, that Merlin had been getting increasingly warmer. With growing terror he realized that Merlin was incredibly hot, burning up as if the dreams themselves were causing some sort of incredible magical fever. Arthur couldn't remember the last time he’d felt so powerless. It was a relief then, if a surprise, when Morgana knocked on their door and entered as soon as Arthur was able to stammer some sort of assent.

Morgana walked in, with a confidence and certainty of action Arthur couldn't remember ever seeing in her before. The room seemed to drop in temperature as she crossed in, and, in moments, she brought a hand to Merlin’s chest and one to his face. Arthur could feel the cold radiating off her. Merlin’s temperature crashed drastically as he woke with a start to the cold shock that rippled through from the point of Morgana's contact, and he breathed in sharp and deep like a man just saved from drowning.

“More like the pyre…” Morgana said, responding to the thought Arthur had never voiced.

Merlin panted as he assessed the situation, assessed the room around him, came back to reality, blue eyes betraying an equal measure of absolute understanding and complete bafflement.

Arthur shifted his gaze to Morgana, searching her face for the answers he didn’t know how to ask for. “How did you know?” he managed to ask finally, though the question was woefully inadequate.

“Sometimes we can hear each other, like when I was in the library, like when you helped us with the druid boy,” Morgana answered, but it wasn’t an answer to the question Arthur had been trying to ask.

“No, I mean…” he shook his head, trying to assemble a better question. Still, he only managed, “ how did you know ?”

“Oh!” Morgana exclaimed, as if understanding the misshapen question better this time. “It’s not as complicated as it seems, it was just illusion magic, I focused on making Merlin feel cold rather than changing anything, normally it wouldn’t affect other people, but you and Merlin are… very close , magically speaking. It’s… unusual.”

“ No,” Arthur let out a long, frustrated sigh as he forced himself to reshape the question, to add words. “How did you know about the dream, about the pyre?”

Morgana let out an uncomfortable laugh, as if that question was too obvious to need an answer.

Merlin, gaining more and more of his senses by the minute, ran his fingers gently along Arthur’s arm before answering, pragmatically, “all my dreams end in the pyre, Arthur. Beheadings are reserved for strangers.”

He was too kind to say the rest. Too kind to say, explicitly, your father would punish me for loving you, and he’d make sure that I burned alive if he ever knew the most beautiful part of me , but Arthur still heard it. 

It had been easier to ignore his father’s monstrosity when it wasn’t aimed at the people he wanted most in the world to protect, when it was abstract obligation to Uther versus abstract duty to the people of Camelot. Now, when someone he loved stood in the balance between, when they faced a worse fate because he loved them--the burgeoning flame of Arthur’s hate, so small before this Beltane trip to the country, was bellowed anew by the vile truth of Uther Pendragon, and it threatened to grow and grow until it could consume the world.

Arthur said nothing. He buried his face in Merlin’s shoulder, and dangled in the silence. Arthur had often felt lost in the world or words and feelings, in the world realisations like this one always seemed to thrust him in, and he’d long since learned to be silent and seem uncaring rather than ever risk seeming incompetent--in front of his father, in front of his kingdom, in front of anyone. 

Now, when what Arthur wanted most in the world was to connect, to be soft and vulnerable and honest, to do anything other than dangle in the silence, he had no idea how to find a ledge back out of the chasm. But Merlin just kept running his fingers along Arthur’s arm, and Mrogana didn’t give him the look she often gave him when she thought he was cold or uncaring. It was like they saw him there, dangling and lost, deep beneath the mask that had always rendered him invisible before. Being seen was new, hopeful but uncomfortable. Being seen protected the spriteling flame, promised to direct it to purpose where once it would have been extinguished along with everything hopeful in Arthur’s spirit. Being seen could change everything.

merlin magic reveal fic where arthur asks “why didn’t you tell me?” and merlin says, mirthless smile and haunted eyes “all my dreams end in fire. fire and burning and dying”

[biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer]

Idk if ur requests are open but here's mine. I really need Sol, Geo, Hyugo and Crowe (seperated) with a bubbly and slightly chaotic, troublemaking s/o! I know it's probably in contrast to the mc/us in the game, but it's just a thought I really like to think abt! <33

Love ur work btw, no need to take my request lolll

𝓜𝔂 𝓛𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓨𝓸𝓾 𝓲𝓼 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓢𝓾𝓷, 𝓪𝓼 𝓑𝓻𝓲𝓵𝓵𝓲𝓪𝓷𝓽 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓡𝓪𝓭𝓲𝓪𝓷𝓽 𝓪𝓼 𝓨𝓸𝓾

I am aware this is shorter, but I hope you like this Anon! <3 (also not me showing blatant favortism for Geo like naur I'd never)

-- Signed solemnly by @biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer AKA Sky Fort(resse)s and Burning Citadels <3

Sol always found you cute, your aura was one of…peace. Which was ironic considering you’re the last thing most people think of in terms of peace.

You’re a menace to society, an adorable one sure, but a menace nonetheless.

You’re often seen (totally not by Sol, no he’d never-) squawking at birds and doing a little dance in hopes they mimic you. Many pray that will never happen again. The first and only time such an event occurred, you skipped three classes just to teach it the Macarena.

“It was so fucking worth it though, like did you see it? I’m asking you Bethany DID YOU SEE IT!!!!” (Bethany is scarred to this day).

Sol finds you so beautiful, you might act zesty and a bit out of pocket, but to him you’re perfect. You’re not embarrassed about being yourself and you’re just unashamedly you. What more is there to love, apart from literally everything about you?

He’ll miss class just to spy- sorry- observe you interacting with things, pet rocks, frogs, birds, a tarantula, your eyes sparkle with that love for the world that he can’t get enough of.

When you partnered up with him for the art projects, Sol was (s)creaming inside, you immediately lit up his mood and you had such a boisterousness in you. Usually he hates such vivid personalities, but yours wasn’t intended to be fake or attention-seeking, it was just you. And he loves you.

You’re like the ball of sunshine x menacing storm cloud ship. 

He’ll often fight the urge to smile, not just from seeing you but how happy you look when you see your friends, and especially him. He wants nothing more than to look into your eyes each morn, eve and night and see that beautiful sparkle and light inside them.

Gets carnal urges to rail you every damn time you express glee at something, or just grin at him. He’s so down bad you just smiling is more than enough to make him bust a couple times.

When you’re together, he finds things to make you as happy as possible, does little things that he knows you’ll appreciate, etc. Mans wants only the best for his partner.

Considering how he's already committed heinous crimes (for you, allegedly, but you don't know this), he'll give you crucial advice on how to avoid getting caught doing dodgy shit. Like. Hiding a body. Mayhaps. Not that he'd ever do that nooooo he'd neeeveeeerrrrrr.

Geo finds you immeasurably irritating.

He can’t stand you, he doesn’t know why you exist. It makes him very sad inside. He often wishes you would get magically gagged so he’d never have to hear your voice again.

It’s not that he hates you, you just bother him. You’re stupidly nice, stupidly bubbly, stupidly energetic, stupidly existent, stupidly silly, stupidly everything.

In fact you’re so stupid he questions how you’re alive, along with why you take up so much space in his head.

When you’re in the group, he winces internally because you’re so loud and it’s so annoying and stupid and dumb.

Unfortunately you decide you like him, so you try to befriend him. And you turn into a literal barnacle. You’re not clingy, no, but you’re definitely pleased when you see him, much to his dismay.

You’re often very cheery, and weirdly enough it’s authentic. You’re authentic in this odd boisterousness of yours, and he doesn’t know how to feel. So he gaslights himself into finding you bothersome.

Deryl often laughs at him about it, he finds Geo’s distaste comedic.

Anyway Geo side-eyes you consistently, you pay him no mind however, you’ve been told he’s like a cat. And a cat poses no threat. Unless it has rabies. Can cats have rabies…?

Anyway, the both of you are toying with each other, well, you with Geo. And to be fair, the fact that he’s a delinquent as well makes you more inclined to befriend him.

He only gains respect for you when you start pulling shitshows on people who bullied others, especially if it’s the girls who screw with Brittney and Deryl. He begins to feel more intuitively safe around you after that. Although he doesn’t like your unpredictability. It reminds him of Hyugo.

Blatantly will never admit to having feelings for you. Denial is a river in Egypt and he can’t swim. (I hc that now.)

Although if somehow one of the others hints to you that he does (nobody ever reveals who, to his ire), you take a chance with him.

He’ll probably accept after 7 months and 3 days of avoiding the topic, but he does feel a slight warmth when you’re nearby.

If you give him a pet rock with a smiley face he’ll have no clue what to do with it, but he keeps it safely hidden on his windowsill in his bedroom, smiling at it in secret.

110% a nasty blusher, his face goes so red, so if he looks straight up into the sun, he’s def hiding smth. If you’re short, start growing. Take Viagra but for height instead of dick.

Anyway if you two date he’s silently death-staring people who insult or threaten (or God forbid, harm) you. Thunder and lightning shipcore.

He’ll never be open about his feelings, but you just make him look up at something via distraction and smuggle something out of nowhere to give to him.

Decides after a bit your bubbly personality isn’t that stupid after all. <3

Hyugo immediately takes a pretty potent liking to you, although with a hint of caution. He’s energised by your energetic nature, by your boisterousness and sheer optimism.

He sees you as a kindred spirit, you’re both more on the popular side of things (him for his reputation, you for your very well-known…’presence’), yet despite such clear similarities between the two of you…he sees you as a threat.

It’s always the sweetest exteriors that hide layers of hard, serrated bitterness far beneath; after all. He’d know.

But Hyugo learned to be more in-tuned with his intuition, to trust his gut overtime, and said gut doesn’t feel alarmed when near you. If anything it feels safe, warm, content.

So he begins to feel a bit disarmed, he even allows it, to a very minor extent. He eventually begins to befriend you (or at least he tells himself that), and soon enough you’re both dragging each other (and Sol) places.

He develops feelings very slowly, very gently. Like a Jenga tower, it stacks higher and higher, but always prepared for the sudden drop that’ll lead to him reverting back to his regular self. One he hides from the world.

But it doesn’t fall. If anything, it’s soaring, he’s soaring.

And one day he realises he loves you.

It takes him a long set of months to gather up any bravery to confess; which annoys him. He’s murdered people, been on the verge of death more times than fingers on his hands, yet he’s scared. Of this. Of how vulnerable he truly is in this situation. 

Some part yearns for it. So he confesses. And you accept.

He’s blushing profusely (he and Geo 110% are heavy blushers don’t you dare fight me on this), and even more so when you lot first kiss (we’re not even gonna get into what happens when you inevitably have very carnal very kinky very loving se-).

Anyway, in terms of your chaoticness, you serve as self regenerating chaos bombs. You constantly are lighting each others’ fuses and doing all sorts of wacky shit together. He shows you all the hidden places he knows and you show him how to commit minor offences without getting caught (he didn’t have the heart to tell you he already knew that but shh).

Yáll are gremlins. The masses fear what you’re both capable of.

Crowe knew from when he first met you that you had interesting ways of entertaining yourself.

Especially when you committed acts of vandalism against your alleged nemeses. Considering how you come off more calm and composed as a first impression he was definitely shocked when you pulled little-shit-esqe moves against people who annoyed you. Little graffiti drawings in their victims’ lockers, conveniently placed stones and bricks, etc. You were vengeful, but also…cute. You had a kindness to you. One that threw many people off, considering how see-saw your personality and behaviour was.

He often uses his reputation to try and get you out of trouble or telling you why you should stop being such a silly goober. But do you listen? No!

You’re still a bubbly person, and despite your...methods…you’re liked. You’re authentic in your own way, and Crowe can respect that in a world filled with lies upon fraudulent lies.

He developed feelings for you since the day you met, but they amplified when he sees you defending people, openly showing your care for others, because despite your allegedly ditzy aura, you’re a very smart and capable person. He sees a lot in you, and you make him feel alive.

You’re impulsive, spontaneous and he loves that. He’s used to rigidity, to caring about his reputation, but you don’t. It’s refreshing, it’s soothing, it’s a balm to the soul. 

You’re both often complimenting each other (not just verbally lol), one’s more calm and composed while the other is having an aneurysm because of some wacky thing they saw. It’s amusing.

Anyway Crowe wouldn’t confess his feelings, because he can’t tell whether your hints are serious or not, but if he feels like he can’t take it anymore, he definitely will say it and plan to make it a joke. You both use this back and forward method until you snap and yell it at him. Then you have se- sorry coughs- a moment of shared reconciliation and bonding time. 

You’re both very happy together, you’ve already been friends for a long time, so dating isn’t all too different, you can just be a bit more open about your feelings and…desires. ;)

Deryl absolutely appreciates you; to him you’re like a twin flame.

You’re both having an absolute blast together, even before you were friends. 

Mans is actually tweaking that you’re the way you are. You’re both supplying candy to one another and getting on massive sugar rushes. 

If you’ve found something cool, you’re showing it to him, same with him to you.

You’re both going batshit insane over small wacky things, whether it be food sales, candy stores having new things (much to Geo and Brittney’s dismays) or deciding to do a new sport together for funsies. Or even stalking Geo and Hyugo’s archery tournaments. Geo often gets pissy if he notices you two waving at him.

You’re typically the quiet one when alone (not without some rebelliousness or mischief though!), but around Deryl you’re both bringing each other up and essentially formulating plans to shit around as much as possible.

He doesn’t notice his feelings until when Brittney starts poking fun at you both.

You both don’t care though, you’re just chilling and causing shit to go down, whether it be dissing other sport teams, crafting goofy ass insults or just piggybacking on each other (well, mostly you on Deryl, you tried to lift him once and uh…yeah, not repeating that).

He loves your bubbly energy, especially if you like studying too. It makes him more motivated to actually do something, considering how he hates it.

You both see the other as a twin flame, a once-in-a-lifetime connection that you both can’t explain. It’s just…there.

Anway in terms of dating you’re both actually conked up on something 24/7. Mostly sugar, you smuggle it in for each other, you eat it when observing something entertaining, you even share gossip and people-watch. It’s magnificent. And it’s peaceful, in its own way.

Also you guys share food. Food is everywhere. It is being produced out of thin air. 

Banger relationship, banger vibes. <3

[aquaticmercy]

Waste a Moment / Part 15

Summary : Bucky had always kept his distance, but seeing you get hurt on a mission changed everything. For the first time, he has a chance to start over with you.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x avenger!reader (she/her) 

Warnings/tags : Mentions of food. Cursing. Memory loss. Head injury. Reader used to work in a museum.

Requested by :  @remoony

Word count : 2.7k

Note : I have a lot on my inbox and I haven’t been replying a lot lately, but I will go through them tomorrow! Please let me know if I miss anyone on the tags! Enjoy!

Series Masterlist

“Name a Price”

Tuesday.

You had said it all—every bitter feeling, every thread of anger that festered so deep inside you that you barely knew where you ended and it began. Alex hadn’t interrupted, hadn’t even shifted in her seat.

She just sat there beside you, listening like she did the first time.

Not as someone who pitied you— but as a friend.

For a while, she didn’t say anything. 

You stared at the glass case in front of you, the one holding Bucky’s war uniform— a symbol of his past that he was still piecing together.

You began to wonder if he’d been someone else back then— someone untouched by Hydra’s corruption. 

But you knew better. That uniform belonged to a man already carrying scars from war you couldn’t begin to fathom. Hydra just amplified it, took advantage of it, added to it.

“I’m not defending Bucky,” Alex finally spoke, “But let me ask you something—hypothetically. If you were still with him, and he somehow forgot all about his Winter Soldier days, would you remind him?”

What?

You turned to her sharply, mouth agape with shock. “That’s not fair.”

“I’m not trying to be fair,” she replied calmly, “it was just a hypothetical question.”

Your hands clenched into fists in your lap. “But that’s neither here nor there,” you muttered, looking away.

“Is it?” Alex pressed, her tone patient but unrelenting. “The only difference I see is scale.”

Her words lingered in your brain like a disease spreading. You wanted to snap at her, to tell her it wasn’t the same thing at all, but… wasn’t it?

“Well,” you said, your voice faltering a little, your conviction a little less absolute. “It’s not the same,” you insisted. “It’s a painful memory for him, and he wouldn’t know how to process it. I wouldn’t want to…”

Your voice trailed off, realising your answer.

The truth— the truth was that you wouldn’t tell him. 

You wouldn’t tell him because you couldn’t bear to see the pain, to see the humanity ripped away again. You wouldn’t be able to look at the way it would twist his beautiful blue eyes and pull him back into the darkness he’d spent so long trying to climb out of. You wouldn’t tell him because you didn’t think you could survive watching him rip himself apart, questioning his very existence, his place in the world.

But was that fair? Could you make that choice for him?

Alex’s voice cut through your spiralling thoughts. “Doesn’t he deserve to know the truth?”

You flinched, feeling the words hit like a punch. 

“It wouldn’t be my place to give it to him,” you said, your tone harsher than you intended— like it was your last line of defence. 

“So you’d be complicit,” Alex said bluntly.

That word stunned you. It froze you in place.

Complicit.

You felt your chest tighten, your breath stopping for a split second. 

Complicit. 

Like Yelena.

The realisation struck you like a punch to the gut. 

Even as you tried to tend to the wounds, you still held a grudge against Yelena for what she’d done, for keeping the truth from you. You hated the way she had looked at you with pity in her eyes. You hated that she’d known all along. You hated that she knew when the truth came out, it would destroy you. 

But now, you realised, if you were in Yelena’s shoes, wouldn’t you have done the exact same thing?

“And how do you think he’d feel if he found out the way you did?” Alex continued quietly.

You swallowed hard, but the lump in your throat wouldn’t go away. 

You didn’t have to imagine it. You already knew— you knew exactly how he’d feel.

He’d feel like the ground had been ripped out from under him, like the air had been stolen from his lungs. He’d feel betrayed. Hurt. 

Like his entire world was a lie.

Just like you had.

You loved Alex— she was your friend— but you hated how exposed you felt, how easily her words broke down the walls you've built around yourself.

“It’s not that simple,” you said, your voice breaking.

“I know,” Alex replied, she put her hand on yours, trying to keep you steady. “But I think… Bucky did what he did out of love. It doesn’t make it right, but it doesn’t make it wrong either. It makes it human.”

“So what?” You almost snapped if not for the stray sob that escaped your mouth. “I’m just supposed to forgive him? Pretend like it’s all okay because he meant well?”

“No,” Alex said firmly. “You’re allowed to be angry. You’re allowed to hurt.” She paused, her eyes holding yours. “But ask yourself this: what’s holding on to this anger costing you?”

You knew exactly what it cost you: it cost you your happiness, and his.

—

When you stepped into your apartment, you saw him.

Bucky stood in the kitchen, his back turned to you, shoulders tense he moved around the stove. The soft clatter of utensils and the low hiss of simmering liquor on the burner made your apartment feel like him. 

The scent was rich, warm, and familiar. It was your favourite dish. 

On the table nearby, your clear vase was now home to a bouquet of flowers, your favourite flowers— the ones he always teased you about loving because they never lasted long. You’d playfully huff, telling him it bloomed so beautifully in the short time it had lived. 

They were arranged with painstaking care—one you knew Bucky was capable of. The petals were flawless, the colours vibrant, as if he’d combed through hundreds of blooms to find the most perfect ones.  

“Hey,” he said softly. He turned to face you, his movements careful, as if afraid to shatter the fragile truce between you. 

When his eyes found yours, a tentative smile curved his lips. His voice was different— gentle, stripped of the defensive edge you had expected.

Your breath hitched.

You’d imagined this moment countless times while you were laying in the hospital bed. 

In some versions, your fury took centre stage, unleashed on him like a storm. In others, the anger had dulled, leaving only an all- consuming sadness, refusing to acknowledge he existed all together. 

You had breached for him to plead, to beg. But this? This peace, this tenderness—it wasn’t what you’d prepared for. 

“Hi,” you managed to say, your voice barely more than a whisper. It felt heavy, like the first crack in a dam threatening to spill. You closed the door behind you, and walked to the dinner table, sitting down before your knees gave out.

Bucky turned back to the stove, setting the spoon down, giving himself a moment to gather his thoughts. He wiped his hands on a towel before walking over to the table. 

His movements were careful, like a man walking a tightrope. “I didn’t want you to come back to… an empty home. Not again,” he murmured, his hand raking through his hair, as it always did when he was anxious. “So I thought I’d, uh, take care of the place. Until you came back. If you came back.”

You stared at him, then at his careful effort he’d put into making the apartment feel welcoming. After all this time, your home didn’t feel yours anymore— not entirely.. It felt like it belonged to both of you. 

“You didn’t have to do this,” you said finally, your voice trembling. 

“I know,” he said, his voice barely holding steady. His eyes met yours, and for the first time since the hospital, there was no mask, no shield. No defences raised, no excuses. “But I wanted to.”

The vulnerability in his eyes was an invitation, not a deflection.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” he said, breaking the moment as he turned back to the stove.

You nodded, fingers brushing over the soft petals of the flowers. Questions swirled in your mind—so many questions, accusations, words you’d rehearsed over and over. But you didn’t say any of them. Instead, you let him take care of you as you once did— you let him finish dinner.  

When he finally brought the plates over, he sat across from you, his hands resting on his knees like he was bracing for impact. You stared at the food, then at him.

“Thank you,” you said. Picking up your fork felt… comforting. It felt like home.

“I can go,” he said suddenly, almost panicked. “I’ll do the dishes and leave.”

“No,” you said quickly, the word surprising even yourself. Your chest tightened as you recalled your conversation with Alex, her reminder that he was human, a reminder that healing could only start if you accepted that he could make mistakes. You set your fork down and met his eyes. “I’m ready to talk.”

Bucky hesitated, his fingers tracing anxious patterns along the table. His muscles tightened, his eyes fixed downward as if the weight of what he was about to say could shatter everything between you. “I don’t… I don’t know where to start.”

You swallowed, the lump forming in your throat. You forced yourself to breathe through it. 

The thought of finally hearing him out was terrifying, but you knew you owed it to yourself. “I don’t care where you start,” you said gently.

His hand stilled in a grip that held the table’s edge a little too tightly. “I know you know I wasn’t always this w-way. This perfect person you’ve known these past few months… I’ve always wanted to be him, for you.”

His words hit you like a wave, the sincerity pulling at your heartstrings. 

“I never needed you to be perfect, Bucky,” you said, the tremble in your tone almost taking over, “I just needed you to be honest.”

He lifted his gaze then, his eyes clouded with regret, pain, and mostly— shame. “How could I?” He murmured, his voice cracking, “For so long, I thought I was protecting you by keeping parts of myself locked away. By being… distant. I thought that if I didn’t let you get too close, you’d be better off. Safer. I didn’t… I didn’t know how t-to justify this change.”

“But why?” you asked, your voice sharper than you intended. “Why did you think I couldn’t handle it? Why didn’t you trust me enough to let me in?”

He flinched at your tone, his shoulders dropping as if the question had drained him. He closed his eyes for a moment, thinking before answering. “Because I didn’t think I deserved you.” He looked at you then, his eyes so full of pain. “I told myself you deserved someone whole, someone who wasn’t… broken. And I thought that if I kept my distance, you would hate me. But you didn’t. Not until… not until now.”

But he was wrong. You didn’t hate him— you never could. You hated that he lied, But him? No, you could never bring yourself to hate him.

“So you pushed me away,” you said quietly, a confirmation of what you knew all along.

He nodded, lI thought I could keep my distance and pretend like it was for the best. But every time I was around you, I felt this… like I couldn’t breathe.”

There it was again. 

He couldn’t breathe around you, he admitted time and again. But not because he hated you. Not because he found your presence suffocating.

It was because you were so damn precious to him that the very thought of sharing the same air as you felt like a privilege he hadn’t earned.

“Instead of facing it,” he continued, “I built a wall around myself.”

Today, his words weren’t excuses; they were admissions. Every letter felt like it cost him a piece of himself.

“I know I hurt you,” he said, his voice breaking. “And I know I can’t undo that. But when you lost your memory… I don’t know. It felt like I had this chance to—to start over. To be the man you deserved. To show you the kind of love I’ve always wanted to give you.”

You blinked back tears. It was like piecing together the puzzle of your past, one fragment of pain at a time. “But you didn’t think to tell me?” you asked, “You didn’t think I deserved to know?”

A pang guilt crossed his face, his mouth falling into a frown. “I should have,” he admitted, “I should’ve told you everything from the start. But I was so scared that if you knew, you’d see the worst of me. That you’d hate me for it. And losing you… I couldn’t handle... couldn’t think….”

You wanted to yell at him, to tell him how much his silence had hurt you, how it had made you question everything. But you also understood, in a way that only love could explain. Alex’s little thought experiment made you connect to his fear— the paralysing fear of losing that meant so much to you. 

“I’m not going to pretend this doesn’t hurt,” you said, your voice steady despite the tears welling in your eyes. “I can’t go back to the way things were before, Bucky. No more lies, no more walls. If we’re going to try this— I need to know all of you. The good, the bad, the broken. All of it.”

His eyes widened.

A second chance—after everything he’d hidden from you? 

It seemed impossible— yet here you were, offering it to him.

He hesitated, then reached for your hand, still not believing that he deserved your touch.

When his trembling fingers brushed against yours, you didn’t pull away. Instead, you turned your hand, weaving your fingers through his.

“I promise,” he said, “I’ll be better. I’ll be honest. No more walls, no more hiding.”

His fingers tightened around yours, afraid you might still let go, afraid you might change your mind. 

But you held on, your grip firm “I don’t need you to be perfect,” you repeated. “I just need you to be honest. I need you to let me in.”

His breath faltered, and for a moment, he looked at you like you were the only thing that could keep him tethered to this earth. “I’ll let you in,” his voice broke. “I’ll spend the rest of my life proving to you that you made the right choice.”

As you sat there holding his hand, you felt the presence of something stronger than fear—hope.

“Can I kiss you?” He finally asked

Your heartbeat quickened, your chest tightening at the sincerity in his request. 

For a moment, you saw it—the life you both wanted, the way it could feel so right, so safe, in his arms. And yet, the cracks of what you’d been through together were still there. The answer that rose within you wasn’t what you’d expected, but it was clear.

“No.”

The word left your lips gently, but firmly. His thumb froze against your skin, his body tensing. The faintest flicker of hurt crossed his eyes. 

He opened his mouth to apologise, but before he could, you interrupted him.

“I’m not saying no forever,” you said, “But I want to take things slow. I need to trust that this—whatever we’re building now—isn’t just us rushing to cover up the hurt. I need to know it’s real.”

For a moment, he just looked at you. Slowly, his shoulders relaxed. A small, almost shy smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “We’ll go as slow as you need,” he said.

He leaned back slightly, letting his fingers slip from yours.

There was no more resentment, no bitterness— only understanding. 

The two of you continued eating in silence, exchanging glances that lingered just a little longer than usual, small, subtle smiles that promised a fragile piece. Each moment felt like a step forward, like a rebuilding of trust, brick by brick, piece by piece.

When the meal was over, he stood to clear the dishes. As he walked past your chair, he paused. His fingers brushed against your shoulder, a fleeting touch. It wasn’t possessive or pleading anymore. Instead, it was a quiet reminder. I’m here. I’m staying. I’m not going to hide anymore.

And for the first time, you truly believed him. Not because he’d said the right thing, not because he was perfect. But because he was trying. 

Because he was human, and he finally saw himself that way. 

-To be continued…

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[tarohugs]

after you find out they cheated (nct dream)

►ot7 x reader

► angst!! some (very minute) fluff, cliff hangers..

►read part 1 here!

►a/n part 2 as requested!! although this was def not what some wanted i think this turn off events is much better. please enjoy and lmk if u do

MARK

After the dispatch rumors, Mark’s name trended on social media for the remainder of the month. Seeing his face constantly had upset you tremendously to the point where you had to mute his name and every nickname given to the boy. 

You two had not talked since he admitted to you over text he had cheated. He made many attempts to come over and make amends but to no avail, you paid no remorse to his actions. Truthfully, Mark was the love of your life and you dearly wanted to give him a chance considering he was trying his best to set forth with your relationship, but something about you couldn’t let him off so easily. 

Throughout the course of your relationship with Mark, he had always said you “were the one” and you shared many intimate moments together. Now, as you watch him through your doorbell camera making his final attempt at reconciling, you decide it is time to finally communicate your true feelings. 

He had approached your front door with flowers and a box of your favorite chocolates along with other of your most beloved items you enjoyed. His eyes swelled with tears as he began to stutter words when you opened the front door. 

“Y-y/n,” Mark faltered in shock that you opened the door before he even had the chance to knock. “I have a lot to explain, just please listen-”

You laughed, surprised he thought he even had a chance, “Mark, you know what you did was wrong and nothing can change that. Look, I didn’t answer to hear you out, I answered to tell you I’m over you and to stop bothering me.” Your eyes watered as you made eye contact with the boy that was once your lover.

“You know it’s just Dispatch,” he asserted, “None of that was the truth, you know this. Please, just listen to me, I can explain everything to you even if you don’t want to hear it. Don’t just throw away years of us for something so stupid.”

You gasped, shocked that he would claim this was stupid, “There’s nothing to explain to me, you fucked up and this is over. None of the shit I’ve seen about you this month was stupid. I’m not dumb, Mark, don’t treat me like this. You don’t deserve a second chance.”

Mark tried to speak again but you immediately shut him down with the palm of your hand signaling him to stop. Maybe you would give him a chance another day but this wasn’t the time. You never accepted the gifts from him as you shut the door in his face. 

As months went on after your final encounter with Mark, he made no other attempts to reunite with you, accepting you were ready to move on to someone better. No texts, no knocking on your door, no phonecalls, no contact at all. Your life with Mark was over for good.

RENJUN

When Renjun had admitted to you he cheated, you didn’t believe his words at first. He had to be joking, I mean who was he to cheat anyways? He was always loyal to you and never failed to ensure you were the number one thing in his life. What could possibly bring him to cheat on you?

“Renjun, what are you talking about?” you questioned, trying to come up with some explanation for his infidelity. 

He couldn’t look you in the eyes as he confessed, “You know Yeji? My new coworker? We were at a holiday party and I was drunk and you know how the rest played out.”

You couldn’t believe his words. Renjun was always the type to inform you of every event in his life. When he had told you about his annual holiday work parties, he always invited you, this year was the first you had heard nothing. As you came to the realization why, you finally connected the dots. 

Even though Renjun excused himself by offering that he was drunk, this wasn’t a drunken mistake. Renjun was intentional with his actions. If he had intended not to invite you in the first place, his objective was clear he was trying to get in Yeji’s pants. 

Not a single bone in your body felt remorse for the boy as you came to comprehend his efforts to cheat on you. “Get out,” you stated strictly, offering no emotion for Renjun to crack.

“Y/n, just give me a chance. I’ll make it up to you,” he began to plead, clutching his fingers together to create a dramatic effect. Nothing could make you forgive him.

“Renjun, you knew what you did. You’re better than this and I deserve better than whatever is going on with you,” you attempted to excuse his infidelity. Renjun had always been truthful with you and although his activities were clear, you had wanted to give him a chance despite your brain telling you not to. 

Renjun simply nodded your head at your statement, beginning to get out of your once shared bed and gather his belongings. He didn’t speak a word as he stuffed his suitcase full other than, “I’ll get the rest of my things later.” He didn’t though, after that night he had left for good.

He never texted you to gather his possessions or make amends. You went on for weeks of no contact and eventually trashed his uncollected belongings due to the high level of emotion they caused you. Not wanting to make the first text, you waited and waited for him to make a move.

Eventually your waiting had done you justice has you finally received a message from your ex-boyfriend.

renjun: y/n

renjun: let’s talk

JENO

After many failed attempts of trying to make Jeno offer some sort of apology for his actions, he eventually started ghosting you as a whole. You couldn’t believe he could once be so loving and switch so easily to being the toxic ex-boyfriend he would shame before. 

The I love you’s turned into Leave me alone’s as you constantly tried to confront him. During the course of your relationship, you two had moved in together and when he cheated on you he made no attempt to move out - simply inviting other girls over without a care in the world. 

Luckily, you two had separate rooms but this didn’t change the fact you could still hear the banging of his bedframe against the wall from one of his many one night stands. One night you had gotten so agitated by his thoughtless actions and confronted him about what was going on.

“Jeno,” you barged into his room, interrupting whatever fuck he had going on. “I’ve had enough of this.”

He pushed the half-naked girl off of him, slowly making his way to throw on a shirt, telling the girl to leave. She scoffed at you limiting her time with Jeno but quickly put on her scattered clothes, leaving your shared apartment. “Y/n, what the fuck is your problem,” he expressed angrily, clearly upset that you would interrupt such an intimate moment.

“Look Jeno, I don’t know what the fuck is going on with you, but I’ve had enough of it. Either you stop with this or you leave. You were the one that fucked up. Figure out your life,” you finally stood your ground. Jeno had always been dominant in your relationship, and after your “break-up” this prevailed. 

He constantly made you feel bad about yourself, blaming you for “not being good enough” as the reason he had to cheat on you. Yeah, this hurt like hell. However, you were desperate to make Jeno love you again, even if he had acted so wrongly. 

Jeno rolled his eyes at your scolding, “If you want me out y/n, so be it. Just know I won’t come back.” He shut the door in your face as you listened to him slam drawers and punch the wall in anger.

You ran back to your room and shut the door behind you, sliding down it as tears began to blind your eyes. What had happened to Jeno? 

The next morning you woke up with no trace of Jeno to be found. He offered no explanation for what had changed him so tremendously but you figured you would find out when you received a knock on the door from Jaemin, Jeno’s best friend.

You answered the door reluctantly, scared Jaemin would make a comment on your puffy eyes and dishelved features. “Jaemin, what’s wrong?” you questioned, taking in his appearance. He seemed to be in the same situation as you, noticing his freshly awoken demeanor.

“Y/n, we need to talk. It’s about Jeno,” he sighed, stepping into your apartment.

HAECHAN

When Haechan saw the look on your face after you discovered him cheating, endless apologies left his mouth. He had never seen you so upset and angry with him, he admitted he deserved your backlash. 

Even though he was quick to beg for your forgiveness, you never offered it to him, opting to move on instead. You were petty and getting back together with Haechan would not be the power move. 

Although you had made it clear you were over Haechan, you never made an official attempt at breaking up with him. Instead, you had simply ghosted him as you didn’t want to make any contact with your so-called ex-boyfriend. This, instead, led you to have even more difficulties moving on as you felt remorse hooking up with other men due to some sort of tie still being connected to the boy.

Months went by and all the efforts you made to sleep with random strangers were ruined as you felt a constant cloud of guilt hanging over you. You tried to get over him by getting blackout drunk at random parties, knowing sober you would make no effort to move on. You were unsuccessful most nights but one night you were finally convinced it was your time. 

Unfortunately, the guy that you landed with in bed was only victorious due to the similar features he shared with Haechan. His hair, his voice, his eyes - everything reminded you of him. Yeah, you had technically not gotten over him, but it was a start!

You were gracious enough to recognize this was a lead in the right direction as you had finally slept with another guy since your relationship with Haechan “ended.” Though, as you began to sober up as you awoke from your one night stand, you couldn’t help but notice the man in your bed appeared too close to Haechan. 

As you took a closer look, your suspicions were confirmed. You were back to square one.

JAEMIN

Following the numerous days you had left your shared apartment with Jaemin, he began to grow concerned for your being and where you were staying. You had opted to reside in your best friend's house as she was the only one kind enough to offer you a place to stay.

Jaemin knew you lacked options to inhabit for the time being and was quick to conclude your location. No longer than two days of you staying there, Jaemin had made his way into her apartment with a bouquet of roses, reciting the speech of apologies for you to hear.

“Y/n,” he sighed, moving closer to you when you opened the front door, “I know you want nothing to do with me, but I have a lot of explaining to do. I’m so sorry for getting upset at you, you did nothing wrong. Please forgive me.”

You laughed in his face. Did he really think you would forgive him so easily? “Jaemin, I can’t believe you right now. You owe me a lot more than this,” you asserted.

He knew you would be reluctant to accept his expression of regret but he knew he could convince you no matter what it would take. “I’m willing to do whatever it takes,” he breathed, handing you the flowers, “please give me another chance. I’ll show you the world.”

It’s crazy to think the way his final sentence could be perceived so differently. Once you had viewed the words as a way of him expressing his love, now it was simply his manipulating attempt to win you over.

Although you were upset with Jaemin for his actions, you couldn’t hate him. You had loved him for months on end and it would be difficult to get over such emotions in such a short time period. You allowed his manipulation to work on you as you offered him a second chance. 

You two continued your relationship for months, rebuilding the connection you once had, this time with more caution. As you began to fall in love again, you couldn’t help but wonder who the girl he had cheated on you with had been. This prompted you to begin searching his phone for clues on who the mistress could possibly be. 

When you arrive upon your best friend's name in his recent text messages, you ponder what the two would be conversing. As you scroll through their texts and see the endless meetups and shared intimate texts, the story finally clicked into place.

CHENLE

After Eric had shown you the texts he shared with Chenle, he was quick to console you over your ex-boyfriend. You had scheduled a meetup with Chenle immediately after and broke up with him, offering no time for an explanation from him. Eric and Yuna had been good friends of yours for years, you knew everything they told you was the truth with no sugarcoating.

As time went on, you and Eric’s relationship began to prosper into something more, sharing many endless night together but never making it further than a few stolen kisses. A couple weeks after your break up with Chenle, Eric had attempted to ask you on a date but you were quick to deny him stating that it was too early for him to make a move. 

“Y/n, I don’t understand. Were those drunken nights nothing to you?” Eric questioned, angered you could deny him so easily. 

You shook your head, upset that he would be so ignorant to ignore your emotions. “You know I just got out of a relationship, Eric, those nights meant something I’m just not ready for commitment yet.” Truthfully you never felt much for him when you were dating Chenle, but due to his chivalrous acts of exposing your cheating boyfriend, you had gained some attachment to the boy. 

Eric accepted your explanation but still attempted to win you over multiple nights in a row. Eventually, you fell into his trap and accepted going on a date with him. As you delved into a new relationship with Eric, you couldn’t help but feel as though something was off. 

Yuna wasn’t very supportive of your relationship after a couple weeks of being with him. She noticed a change in your attitude and offered no reasoning of why she further began to distance yourself from you two. The three of you were inseparable for years so you figured she was just beginning to adjust to being a third wheel.

Though something about Yuna’s lack of support for your relationship with Eric struck a nerve inside you, you couldn’t help but feel there was an underlying message behind her actions. When you received a message from the girl, you were in for a ride.

yuna!!!: don’t hate me but eric lied about chenle

JISUNG

Accidentally live streaming is one thing, having a girl speaking in the background is another. Netizens were quick to spread rumours about who the mysterious voice was in Jisung’s accidental live stream. You were also curious as to know what Jisung was truly doing in that moment of vulnerability, but when you sent him various concerned and aggravated messages, you realized none of your texts were delivered to his phone. Jisung had blocked you.

Being an idol means strict punishment from companies - and under the circumstances Jisung had fucked up, he was in for trouble. Of course his managers were aware Jisung was dating you, so they were quick to assume the mystery girl was you. Due to this, they were punished Jisung by banning all contact he had with you. This led you to having no reasoning for what was going on that day. 

You attempted to contact his members but they made no effort to offer you any explanation either, most likely scared they, too, would get in trouble. If you weren’t terrified of the company, you would reach out to his managers yourself, but you had heard of the things they did to idols and you didn’t want to risk any chance of communication you had with Jisung.

After months of no contact with the boy, you finally began to accept he wouldn’t be returning back to your life any time soon; however, when you received a letter in the mail from Park Jisung, a sliver of hope ran through your veins that this chapter of worrying would finally come to an end. 

As you opened and read the handwritten letter he had graciously sent, your eyes began to shed tears. In his heartfelt letter, he sent numerous apologies and explained the girl in the video had been one of his cousins, he was simply hanging out with family and didn’t tell you because he wanted to surprise you with a gift she had intended on giving you.

Although you were reluctant to believe such a fallacy, you knew Jisung better than anyone else, he had to be telling the truth. The only problem was, that there was no way to contact Jisung other than via the mail. Even though you had found out the truth, what was the cost?

[sandwitchstories]

Sweet Suffering

Hi guys! I'm back! I hope you all enjoy another adventure in Mouse's Mini-verse with your favorite pink haired, two year old menace!

For more adventures with Mouse and Dad!Sukuna, check out my Daddy Duty Series on my AO3 - Here! )

Author's Note: For anyone new to my Dad!Sukuna Series, Mouse is Sukuna's, currently, 2 year old daughter with reader.

Summary: Kenjaku makes a surprise visit and Mouse strikes again. Kids say the dandest things, don't they? (My alternate title for this fic was 'Mouse vs Kenjaku')

If you would prefer to read this story on AO3, click here !

WC: 1900

CW: reader is referred to as 'Mama' and 'Mother' but not described, toddler dad Sukuna, girl dad!sukuna, true form Sukuna (4 arms), it's pretty much Dilf Sukuna fluff and crack, family fluff, Uraume and Kenjaku (Heian era) are bothi n this one, there is 1 swear word, no one likes Kenjaku

Sukuna sat on the engawa having tea while Mouse roamed around the yard singing a song she made up as she went, picking flowers, piling up leaves and doing a jump occasionally that reminded him of a frog. He had no clue what the little jump was for, why she was doing it or where the hell she had learned it from, but it was keeping her happy and occupied so he said nothing. If he had learned anything thus far in the 2 years he had been a parent, it was to NOT try to make sense of toddlers.

Sukuna raised his head and narrowed his gaze as he felt a powerful curse energy approaching. This visit was unplanned. And you were not going to be a happy camper when you got home if the curse approaching was still here. Mouse apparently sensed the energy too as she froze and looked towards its direction before bolting to him. 

“Papa! Papa! Papa!” She squealed, racing across the yard as fast as her stubby little legs could carry her. He lifted her up when she reached him so she could stand on his thigh. She immediately leaned into him and tangled her hands in his clothes. 

“You're fine, Mouse,” he told her, putting a hand on her back to steady her and soothe her. 

Sukuna was glad you were not there as Kenjaku came into the yard whistling. You couldn't stand him. The nicest thing you had ever said about him was that he was a leech that had latched onto Sukuna’s power and wouldn't let go. He knew you were right, but Kenjaku had talents and knowledge that Sukuna required for his plans. 

“Who is that, Papa?” She asked as Kenjaku strode towards them in a new body. Old one must have served its purpose and been discarded already. 

“Why, Mouse! Don't you recognize me? It's Kenjaku,” the curse said in greeting.

“That him?” She asked in a loud whisper that sounded wholly suspicious. “Him face is different.”

“Yes, it is. That's his curse power,” Sukuna answered. She was a bit too young to know the full details just yet. Maybe in a year or two.

She looked at him and then Kenjaku. She leaned in and asked him yet another question in a loud whisper. “Is Kenjaku a friend, Papa? Mama said-”

“Mouse, go find Uraume so I can speak with Kenjaku. That’s not a request, by the way. I am not asking,” he said, not wanting to know which one of your opinions on Kenjaku she was about to come out of her mouth. You had many of them and none of them were favorable. Not that he cared about the curse’s feelings, but right now he had a need for him. He set her down on the engawa and gave her a little push. “Go. Inside.” 

She gave a hmmmph and walked inside with her little nose turned up and her arms crossed. He heard her pause at the doorway with his sharp hearing. “I know you are still there, Mouse. Go.”

Kenjaku gave it several moments and waited for Sukuna to nod before he spoke. “So how are things here in the world of domestic bliss?”

“What did you come here to speak to me about?” Sukuna replied. He was in no mood for Kenjaku’s bullshit. He was dealing with enough sass from the 2 year old he had just sent inside. 

“What? I can’t stop by to see an old friend?” Kenjaku asked as he poured himself a cup of tea. 

“It’s not your style. And we’re not friends. Lets not start lying to each other after all this time,” Sukuna said.

“Fine. Have it your way. I have figured out how to do what we spoke about,” Kenjaku said. “It is the reason for my taking control of this vessel.”

“Really?” Sukuna was weary. “And have you tried the process yet?”

“Not on a person,” Kenjaku said, he gave Sukuna a side eye. “But are you human? Or are you a curse?”

“A calamity. Come back when you’ve perfected it, and then we will talk seriously,” Sukuna said dryly. He could hear two sets of footsteps heading their way. “Don’t show up here uninvited again.” 

“I do long for the days we could speak freely and for longer. I never needed an invitation before,” Kenjaku almost sounded like he was sulking. 

“You’ve always needed an invitation,” Uraume in greeting as they came out to the engawa, kneeling in respect to Sukuna with a broom in their hand. “Master Sukuna. Mouse said that Kenjaku is here. I came to see if you require anything.” 

“Ura-rau! Use the broom! Use the broom!” Mouse jumped up and down, pumping her fists in the air, directly next to where they kneeled.

“Be quiet, Mouse,” Uraume snapped, still looking down. 

“But Urau-rau…”

“Not yet,” Sukuna answered. He would have to make sure to ask what that was about.

“We were trying to have a discussion,” Kenjaku gave the two new additions a side eye.

“I was picking flowers,” Mouse said, hands up in the air giving the curse a shrug.

“It’s a little different, Mouse,” Kenjaku answered. “This was important.”

Sukuna closed his eyes and shook his head. Was this guy seriously trying to reason with a two year old? Especially that two year old. 

“Mine imbordant too! My flowers were for Mama,” Mouse said emphatically with her hands on her hips, narrowing her eyes on Kenjaku. Without taking her eyes off of the curse in front of her she asked, “Mmmmm, Papa? I can pick more flowers now, please and thank you?”

Sukuna smirked. There it was. Mouse’s famous audacity. He had been waiting for it. “Fine, go.”

“Yay!” she ran over to him and grabbed onto his arm, hugging it and kissing his bicep, looking up at him with a smile. “Thank you, Papa!”

He held her arm and helped her off of the engawa before she skipped off but not before giving Kenjaku a quick victory smirk. The cursed looked at him and said, “She is her mother’s daughter, I see.”

Sukuna snorted in amusement. He couldn’t deny that nor would he want to. He had married someone incredible, one of a kind. Why wouldn’t he want her to be like you?

“And what of it?” Uraume asked, giving Kenjaku a disgusted side glare.

“Oh, not a thing!” Kenjauk said with a smile and wave of his palm. He looked at Sukuna. “You have changed. Don’t lose sight of our plan.”

“Did you need anything more?” Sukuna asked, not in the mood to discuss this further when Kenjaku hadn’t even perfected this technique. The curse needed to prove he could actually do it before Sukuna would discuss it further.  “If not, our business is concluded.”

“As you wish,” Kenjaku said, standing to leave. “I will return after I have confirmed results.”

You came through the gate at that moment, carrying goods from the market. Your smile faltered when you saw the curse standing next to him. Mouse ran to you and hugged your leg, looking up at you with a smile and holding up a handful of weeds. “Flowers for Mama!” 

“They are beautiful. Thank you, Mouse,” you said with a smile, rubbing the back of her head with your free hand.

“It’s okay, Mama. He leaving,” Mouse said, patting the back of your leg reassuringly. 

“Good,” you answered. 

“We will meet again soon,” Kenjaku said to Sukuna before heading out of the yard. He paused in front of you, “A pleasure to see you again.”

“The pleasure is all yours,” you answered with a fake smile.

Kenjaku looked down at Mouse and gave her a smile and a wave. “Bye bye, Mouse! I’ll be back soon!”

“The pleasure is all yours,” Mouse glared at him. 

“Enough, Mouse,” Sukuna said as Uraume choked while trying to suppress laughter behind him.” While he did feel a need to correct her attitude, he would rather his daughter hate Kenjaku than have anything to do with him.

The curse turned up his nose and exited the yard, closing the entrance behind him. Sukuna watched you and your daughter, both smiling and talking between the two of you, discussing what goods you had bought at the market. He was in no rush for his plans to come to fruition. He wanted to enjoy the little moments like these for as long as he possibly could.

“If you have no need of me, Master Sukuna, I would like to go start preparing for dinner. I have decided to make a dessert. Does mochi sound good?” Uraume asked.

He had a feeling they would be making some type of treats this evening as an unspoken thank you to Mouse for their treatment of the curse. “Sounds good to me. You may go.”

Mouse came running to him with you trailing behind. She had one left over flower in her hand as she ran to him. “Papa! Head down, please and thank you!”

He leaned down to her level, curious what she intended to do. He screwed up his face as she not so carefully put the flower behind his ear. 

“All done, Papa! Now you look pretty too!” She kissed his cheek and pulled back, giggling with a smile.

He sat up, the flower still in place and noticed each of you had a flower behind your ear too. He felt ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. But the smiles on both of your faces made him roll his eyes and leave it alone. “Thanks, I guess.”

“You’re welcome, Papa!” Mouse preened before gasping and running away.

“Now what the hell is she doing?” Sukuna asked as he stood, giving you a gentle kiss and taking the bag of goods from your hand. 

“Apparently picking another flower,” you said, watching Mouse hunt for the perfect one for her needs. She found it, snatched it up and came running back. 

“I be right back,” she told the two of you, clambering up onto the engawa and taking off running yelling out at the top of her lungs, “Uraume? Where you go? I gonna find you!”

“Don’t,” came the equally loud reply.

“I’m guessing everyone is getting a flower adornment,” Sukuna said with forced disgust as he glanced down at you.

“It’s not so bad, besides,” you said, tilting your head back, a sign he had learned meant you wanted kisses. He obliged and brought his head down. You cupped his face and kiss him before moving to walk away and looking over your shoulder, “It suits you.” With that, you walked away.

He had every intention of drying and keeping the flower, but he would not let either of you know and he would not let that slide. A flower accessory suiting the King of Curses? And not even a fucking poisonous one? Ridiculous!

Giving in to the absurdity he recently found himself being faced with regularly these days, he stormed after you calling out, “The hell it does! Take that back!”

“No take backs!” you called over your shoulder with a smirk on your face.

“I’ll show you no take backs, brat,” he growled under his breath. He’d wipe that smirk right off your face. His suffering had no end in sight. But what sweet, sweet suffering it was.  

[lost-romantique]

The Needs of Both these Messy Gays~

I just want to make a point and state that I'm not attacking or pitting both these guys against each other. They're dumbasses, the both of them.

Blitz is someone that is going to need constant reassurance when he's in a relationship.

Being told the words "I love you" scares the fuck out of him because he doesn't trust those words of love.

At the same time, romantic gestures don't work on him because he's always going to assume the worst.

"And then, he'll call me to see how my day was! And he'll pretend to care about me, and comment on my photos, and LAUGH AT MY JOKES—"

Blitz is someone that has used his body and sex as a way to get what he wants. But his relationship to sex is one of the reasons why he's unable to trust those romantic gestures.

Blitz constantly seeks reassurance, and he asks Stolas for that reassurance a LOT throughout Full Moon and Apology Tour...

"Am I not, like, fucking you good enough? Because I-I can always- I can always do better--"

Blitz immediately asks Stolas for reassurance that he's good enough, and that if he isn't good enough, he makes it a point to tell Stolas that he can do better.

Stolas responds to Blitz saying he cares very deeply for him, but being told he's cared about doesn't give him the reassurance he needs.

Blitz asks for reassurance twice from Stolas in Apology Tour...

"This whole thing we had going... I'm- I mean you're a fucking prince. How could you ever actually care for an imp... Me? How could anybody?"

"Stolas, you are better off without me. 'Kay? You deserve so much... I don't even know why you would want to be with me."

Stolas never says anything really wrong in his responses to Blitz, and I think Blitz himself needed to here that. BUT if Stolas were to make one mistake, it would be that he states that he wants somebody / anybody.

Blitz doesn't reach out to Stolas because of his issues in intimacy, and because Blitz himself hasn’t been given the reassurance that he's the one Stolas wants.

Do you know who does give Blitz the reassurance that he's needed? Millie.

Millie is able to give concrete examples to Blitz on how he made an impact on her life.

In fact, Millie states that Blitz is the reason that everything she has in her life is thanks to him being unapologetically himself.

"He gave me so much: a career, a husband, a future, and now... he's my best friend."

The moment Millie gives Blitz the example of how much she values him as a person and as a friend, Blitz immediately asks for reassurance...

"You... you don’t hate me?"

And Millie automatically says, "Nah, never."

The moment Blitz is given the reassurance that he isn't hated by Millie, he opens up, he becomes vulnerable.

Blitz allows Millie to comfort him, and Blitz initiates that intimacy with Millie to which she obliges.

What's beautiful about this exchange is that there isn't anything remotely sexual about it. This is just one friend comforting another friend in need.

Blitz asks for reassurance again in the form of a question...

And the moment Millie reaffirms that sentiment, Blitz opens up and shows Millie the real him.

Not the fuckboy facade, not the mask he wears... this is the REAL Blitz...

Blitz also shows incredible growth by not deflecting to jokes like he usually does, but instead by being honest with Millie...

Blitz promises to Millie that he'll stop impeding on her marriage

Blitz states in the most subtle way that he has feelings for Stolas

Stolas needs to be told that he's cared for and that he's loved by someone.

He's also someone that seeks romantic affection in the form of compliments, and big and small romantic gestures mean the world to him as well.

Blitz unknowingly makes Stolas’s romantic fantasies come true...

A rogue assassin comes into his bedroom to "scale the walls" and he acts like he wants Stolas a lot.

This man is attractive, he is literally the protagonist of a romance novel. His boldness and confidence is alluring. He is a dream come true and he's here to take what's his.

This man just literally sweeps Stolas off his feet, and he still does this while giving you the most smug grin.

Blitz throws Stolas to the bed, and gives him ultimate rizz in the form of this shit eating grin.

And the moment Blitz bites his neck, Stolas is so fucking into it he creams himself.

Blitz is so good actually, extremely good in being bold, confident, and sexy. He knows how to unravel Stolas. *cough*

In fact, the moment Blitz catches him, Stolas is smitten and he is down bad.

To Stolas, this is a big romantic gesture. This is a motherfucking dream come true for Stolas because, "OMG THIS HOT ASS MAN JUST FUCKING SAVED ME!"

But Blitz isn't a romantic, he's not good at showing romantic affection in small ways, and that's what screws him over.

Stolas wants and actively seeks the smallest bit of reassurance and comfort that Blitz can provide, whether it be through text and or in other small ways.

This motherfucking birb, this dumbass Prince, even when he has every right to be angry at Blitz for the shit he said to him, still wants Blitz to hold him. In fact, he makes him hold him.

Stolas is so fucking cute, being all like, "I'm mad at you, but I still demand you hold me."

"You wanna know what I want? I want to know what it's like, to not be alone. I want to be someone's someone. I want to feel wanted. But like, in a romantic way, like I'm standing out in the rain at a train station and someone is shouting: “Harriet! Don’t get on that train, it’s going to London and I cannot be without you!”

Harriet the Train is a big romantic gesture. Stolas likes big romantic gestures, and Blitz is really good at doing actions that are big and bold.

Blitz has made Stolas feel wanted in The Circus and he makes him feel protected in Seeing Stars. Blitz knows how to be big.

Stolas doesn't need Blitz to perform Harriet the Train, but can he? Oh fuck yes he can.

"The point is, I just... want someone to care if I stay or go. I want someone to want... me! To want to see me. To hold me. To look at me and think "You're the only one I want!" [sheds tears] "I desire to hold you and talk to you, and never let you feel so..."

This is what Stolas wants from someone right now. He wants to feel wanted in the small ways, he wants to be held, he wants someone to talk to him, to make him feel not so alone.

Right now, at this very moment, Stolas needs the small stuff. He needs the small bits of intimacy that Blitz is not in the right headspace to provide in Apology Tour.

Do you know who gives Stolas what he needs at the moment? Better than Blitzo guy.

He's smooth and charming in a different way from Blitz. He doesn't even look at Blitz, actually, his eyes are only on Stolas.

"Great song earlier. You have great pipes."

He compliments Stolas on his singing, and Stolas is happy to be given a compliment.

BTB than asks Stolas to dance, and Stolas is both surprised and in disbelief.

Stolas is so happy and genuinely has an amazing time dancing with BTB, he even goes out of his way to use his wings to give Stolas a spin.

BTB even performs a big romantic gesture of pulling Stolas into a sloppy wet kiss, to which Stolas happily reciprocates.

I think both these idiots have the potential to be what the other really needs, and I honestly think with proper communication they can have the most beautiful relationship.

[tropes-and-tales]

Lieutenant Steal-Your-Girl, Part II

(Bob Floyd x F!Reader; Jake Seresin x F!Reader)

CW:  Light angst (relationship woes); open relationships; smut (oral, F!receiving; PiV, unprotected); 18+ only.

Word Count:  4180

AN:  This is part of a larger mini-series, found here, and it was requested by several anonymous folk!

AN2: This has not been edited in any way, shape, or form!

Jake has always prided himself on making the right move every time.  As a varsity athlete in high school, whether on the football field or basketball court, for example: he always saw the field of play, the players on it.  He could always calculate possible outcomes and always made the right choice.

Same for his military career.  He didn’t make it to Top Gun as a fluke.  He’s the best because he can sense the environment, can feel the strength and speed of the plane under his control.  He can crawl into the psyche of his fellow pilots and best them in simulations because he’s sharp and observant.

He always makes the right move.

Until he doesn’t.

Opening up his relationship with you felt like the right move months ago.  Jake loves you, truly.  He knows he can search for a thousand years and never find a woman as loyal as you.  He’ll never find someone so willing to put up with the chaos of his life in active service.  Even if he didn’t know it, the other guys would remind him of it:  that you’re a rare specimen, that he should have wifed you up years ago.

The thing is—you and Jake have been together for so long.  Since you were kids.  Since ideas like love and forever were abstract things.  Since your future together seemed both a small thing and a thing that would stretch out for an eternity.  It was one thing to date you as a teenager, to make lofty promises to you when the biggest decision Jake had to make was which party to attend after the Friday night football game.

It was an entirely different thing now.  To go from his small Texas hometown to the world and all its variety and promise.  To turn to the hard, often boring work of living together:  Jake getting his marching orders, you trailing behind faithfully.

Opening the relationship was for both of you.  It’s how Jake justified it to you, how if you both loosened the reins a bit, then when you eventually married, there’d be no lingering doubt.  There’d be no question of missing out. 

It worked for all those months.  Jake got to have his cake and eat it too.  He got to explore, got to experience different women…but always came home to you.  It was like a pressure valve, just him letting off steam, relieving the pressure that built up from a high-stress position as a pilot.

He encouraged you to do the same.  To explore.  To have fun.  There was a part of him that was turned on by the thought of you with another man, though if Jake were entirely honest with himself, the entire open relationship was mostly for him.

If you sat at the Hard Deck with a dour expression on your face, was that his fault?  If you refused to take advantage of the free pass he gave you, was that his problem?

Until you seemingly took advantage of that free pass. 

Until you don’t come home one night.  Until you breeze in late one morning with a soft smile of your face that Jake hasn’t seen for years.  Until you murmur a greeting at him, distracted, then slip into the bathroom for a long shower.

Jake always makes the right move, but as you seemingly wash away some other man under a steaming shower, he realizes that he’s made the absolute worst move.

-----

Who was it?

It’s the question that gnaws at his gut, that makes his jaw ripple with tension as he grinds his teeth together.

The most obvious answer is someone from your job.  Jake is away for long stretches, and you have a traditional 9-to-5 job in tech.  Your office is tilted heavily in favor of the men; there’s a lot of young guys in your orbit every workday.  Some asshole in khakis and a polo shirt, some asshole with a sensible Honda CRV with golf clubs stowed in the back.  Some asshole who perhaps goes out to lunch with you, the two of you sharing tacos in the San Diego sunshine, of sending flirty messages through Slack or whatever…

Another possibility?  A fellow flyboy, or at least a military asshole.  San Diego teems with young, fit men in uniforms, and many of them are looking for a loyal girl to lock down. 

Which puts Jake in mind of his fellow Daggers.  You accompany him to the Hard Deck nearly every night he goes.  You usually sit outside, listening to the surf…but you spend enough time with the rest of his squad.

Is it Coyote, with his killer smile and dimples?

It is Payback with his laid-back charm and easy way of talking?

Could it be Javi and the way he leans in, like he’s unable to resist a woman when he’s chatting her up?

Maybe it’s Bob.  Jake had made a joke of it often enough, just for the benefit of tweaking the little nerd and making him go atomic red.  Jake loved winding the back-seater up, and every time he asked Bob if he wanted to fuck you, he turned into a stuttering, blushing mess before freaking out and declining.

Rooster and his unbuttoned Hawaiian shirts and ability to draw all eyes on him when he plays the piano?  You took piano lessons in high school, and more than once, you’ve perched beside Rooster and added little musical flourishes as he pounded out another Jerry Lee Lewis standard.  Jake searches his memory.  Didn’t you give Rooster a shy little smile after each performance?  Didn’t Rooster throw an arm around your shoulders and pull you against his side after a duet that ended in raucous applause?

And didn’t Rooster pull Jake aside just weeks ago to give him a stern talking-to about how miserable you seem?

Jake sits in the canteen and picks at his lunch, and he lets his glare settle on the man sitting two tables over.  Was Maverick’s pet pilot the man who put that dreamy little smile on your face two days earlier?

*****

Bob hasn’t been able to focus all day.  Thank god it’s just been classroom work about the physics of flying and not actual flying.

He picks at his lunch and lets the talk in the canteen fade into the background.  He can’t stop thinking about you.  About his date with you.  About the night he spent with you, and then the morning.  About driving you home—the home you share with Jake—and how you turned to him, shy, and brushed a kiss against his blushing cheek before you slid out of his truck and ran inside.

How can he be so happy and so miserable at the same time?  To have had that amazing moment with you, and to realize that you can’t be his.  Bob glances over at the man himself and sees Jake glaring at Rooster—that old, tired rivalry—and Bob feels jealousy lance through him sharper than a knife.

His mind rapid fires through the date like a slideshow, the images cycling in his mind’s eye as he lifts his fork, chews his food without tasting it.  He replays every moment.  He replays every word you spoke, parsing through them for some hidden clue.

Bob finds it when he’s eating a buttered roll.  He remembers what it felt like to make love to you, and he remembers that he wore no condom, and he remembers your words.

I’m clean, Bobby.  I had a test just last month and was clean, so if you don’t want to wear a condom...

He freezes with the piece of bread lifted halfway to his mouth.  His mouth gapes open, and he seizes up and doesn’t move as he considers the implications.  What you said, and what you really said.

You are in a relationship with Jake, and Jake sees women outside of your relationship.  You had an STD test a month ago and felt comfortable enough to tell Bob you were clean.

Ergo, you and Jake have not been intimate in at least a month, which means that perhaps your relationship to the cocky Bagman is not as solid as Jake sells it to the Daggers.

-----

How can Bob be so miserable and so happy at the same time?

It helps when the happiness tips the scales, because that date wasn’t a one-time thing at all.  That evening, after Bob had his realization in the canteen, he gets a text from you.

Thank you again for planning such a lovely date. I had the best time, you write.

The smile breaks across his face like the sunrise, and he’s grinning so hard that he doesn’t have a chance to respond before you send a second text.

If you ever would want to hang out again, I’d love that.

That makes him scoff.  The soft wording of it, if he ever would want to.  As if you haven’t been occupying his thoughts for every waking moment since that date.  As if he hasn’t been praying and hoping for just this invitation from you, this toehold for more.

I absolutely would love to hang out with you again, he replies.

You:  When?

Bob:  Anytime. Sooner the better.

You:  Give me a date and time.

Bob:  Right now?

It’s a joke, but not really.  It’s a joke, but he wants you with him now, wants to soothe the jittery anxiety that comes from having you for a night and then not having you.  It’s a joke, but not really, because you respond with three words that make his pulse race and his mouth go dry.

On my way.

It’s a joke, but not really, because half an hour later there’s a knock at his door, and when he opens it, you’re standing there and neither of you say a word because he opens the door wider, and you step through it.  You step into his arms, and he enfolds you against him, and then your mouth is on his, his glasses are knocked askew, and he’s half-dragging you as you half-push him back into his bedroom. 

There’s no hesitancy this time around; Bob senses no reserve or shyness.  He only feels your hunger that matches his own, a ravenous urge that makes this moment sloppy and rushed.  Neither of you finesse it—he only pushes the skirt of your dress up and tugs your panties down enough.  You only undo his belt, his button and zipper, push his pants and boxers low enough for his cock to spring free.

You both only do enough to clear the obstacles to your mutual goal, and when Bob slots the head of his cock against your entrance, it’s both of you moving as one:  him pushing into you, you pulling him into you.  The moan you loose at the sensation is echoed by Bob, and it’s only afterwards—sweaty, panting, sated—that you finally actually exchange words.

“I’m glad you reached out,” Bob says.  He runs his fingertips up and down your arm, and you nestle closer to him.

Something has changed in you since that first night together.  You’re less uncertain.  Braver.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” you admit simply.

That pulse-racing, dry-mouth feeling returns.  “Yeah?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

Bob swallows hard.  There are a million questions on the tip of his tongue.  Where is this going?  Where is Jake?  What happens next?

Instead, he wraps his arm firmer around you.  “Tell you something,” he says.

“What’s that?”

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you either.”

*****

A month passes.  You and Jake even out.  Your relationship finds the sort of easy equilibrium that he always wanted with the open thing—or at least, you don’t seem so morose when he has dates with other women.  He doesn’t hear you sniffling in bed when he comes home late. 

You, though?  Jake can’t quite figure out what’s going on with you, and since one of the rules of this thing is a strict “don’t ask, don’t tell,” he can’t know for certain. 

It doesn’t mean he doesn’t try.

It’s a rare evening when you both stay in.  You make dinner, and the two of you sit and eat.  You chat about your respective days, and when the conversation peters out, Jake clears his throat.

“Have you been…taking advantage of the free pass?”

Your eyes slide up to meet his gaze.  “We said we wouldn’t talk about it.”

“We said we’d never discuss specifics.  This was just a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ question.”

You arch an eyebrow.  You say nothing.

Jake stares at you, tries to read your expression.  He weighs the entirety of your relationship.  Everything he knows about you, which is a lot.  His loyal girl, his ride-or-die.  He weighs all of it against this new you who is more at ease with your arrangement, and he concludes that no, you must not be sleeping with anyone else.  You probably just came to accept it from him.  You probably just see the wisdom in letting him let off steam and explore before he comes back to you and settles down.  Your refusal to answer him must just be a way to needle him.

It's the wrong conclusion, but he won’t realize that for a while longer.

-----

Another month passes.  The ease continues. 

Jake relaxes.  That single night months ago must have been an aberration.  Another way of needling him.  He assumes you spent the night at a girlfriend’s place and just chose to act mysterious about it to make him jealous. 

His life finds a blissful rhythm.  He has his home with you, and he’s not so blind that he can’t admit how nice you’ve made his life here in San Diego.  You give him a warm, cozy place to land after stressful days on base.  You give him simplicity, and when he looks across the kitchen table or the couch and sees you there, it makes him feel like he’s been wrapped in a weighted blanket.

Jake’s momma always said he should put a ring on your finger before you left Texas.  “Girl like that is hard to find and harder to keep, Jakey,” she used to say. 

But Jake’s dad always said he should wait before tying himself to any one woman.  “Take it from me, Jake,” he used to say.  “Don’t get your high school girlfriend knocked up and marry her at nineteen.  Live a little before you commit to the ball-and-chain.”

Jake can see his father’s wisdom now (even though he was the cause of that shotgun wedding at nineteen).  This open thing is clarifying what Jake wants for his future.  He’s getting all that latent, restless energy out of his system.  Each stranger he goes home with, each woman he fucks just brings him that much closer to a future where he puts that ring on your finger and promises to only be with you for the rest of his life.

*****

It’s more than just hooking up.

Bob can’t deny it from his side of things, and he has a feeling that you see it the same as him.  The two of you meet up, make love—sometimes frantic, sometimes slow and drawn out—but you also spend time together.

Two blissful months pass from that first date.  You and Bob find time in your schedules where there’s overlapping availability.  For you, that tends to be when Jake is off on a date or at the Hard Deck conquering another conquest.  You and Bob meet up there too, play it cool, pretend to just be the usual friendly acquaintances that you’ve always been…. then once Jake is out the door, the two of you slip out a moment later when it’s clear.

It's all-consuming.  Bob has never been in a situation with a woman like this before.  He feels mad, feverish, hectic when you aren’t around.

He feels mad, feverish, hectic when you are.

He dreams of you, wakes up hard and aching, wakes up feeling like he’s taken a cannonball to the chest.  He holds imaginary conversations with you in his head; he’s driven to near-distraction, and only Nat keeps him in line during his workday. 

Even so, more than once, Maverick has caught him daydreaming, and Bob’s paid for it with countless pushups on the tarmac.

But when you’re with him, he can’t get enough.  He’s become pushier than he’s ever been with a woman before.  Countless times, he fails to get you home before he takes you:  he’s fucked you against the lifeguard stand yards away from the Hard Deck, the ceaseless waves covering up the sound of you moaning his name.  He’s bent you over the sink of the bar bathroom, met your unflinching stare in the water-spotted mirror as he found a fast and hard rhythm that spoke more to the lack of time you had before the other Daggers missed the two of you.  He’s pulled you into his lap in his truck, pushed your panties to the side, pulled you down onto him.  He’s knelt at your feet and feasted on your perfect pussy so many times that he wonders how the other pilots—how Jake—doesn’t smell you on him. 

You’re ravenous for each other, but there’s also sweet moments.  Little mundane moments where your appetites are sated, and you can just be with each other.

The way you run your fingers through his short-cropped hair.  The way you rub the pad of your thumb over the little indents on the sides of his nose from his glasses.  The way you stretch out like a cat, pleased and lazy after sex, and ask him all about his life.  What he was like as a kid, what his family is like.

Sometimes, you ask him where he sees himself in a year, in five years, in a decade.

He never answers those forward-looking questions.  He turns them around on you, echoes the questions back to you.

You never answer them either. 

It’s like both of you are in a stalemate.  Neither of you ever mention Jake by name, and you only occasionally mention him obliquely as him.  The two of you operate in a bubble suspended in time, where your past with Jake doesn’t quite exist and where your respective futures are hazy and unclear.

When Bob lies in bed late at night, alone, he knows how he’d answer you if you really pressed him.

Where does he see himself in a year?  With you.

Where does he see himself in five years?  With you.

Where does he see himself for the rest of his life?  With you.  Always with you.

*****

The Hard Deck is packed.  Javi and Nat play pool, and you, Rooster, and Bob watch them as you chat amiably.

Jake feels relaxed.  He feels good. 

He called his parents over the weekend, and he had a good talk with them.  An honest talk, or as honest as one can have with their parents.  He described work and how well it was going at Top Gun, how things with you have evened and smoothed out.

He hesitates only a beat before he tells them:  he wants to bring you back to Texas for the holidays.  He has leave, and you can take the time off too.  A big Seresin family Christmas.  It has been far too long.

“I thought I might go see her dad,” he mentions too.  “Gotta ask him a question.”

At that, his mother squealed over the line, and his father took a moment to clear his throat, then gruffly added that he thought Jake had turned into a fine man, and that he was proud of him.

Jake feels good.  It feels right.  He glances over at where you stand with Rooster and Bob, the three of you laughing as Javi tries and fails a trick shot.  You look relaxed, almost happy, and Jake smiles to see it.  Hasn’t this been the ultimate proof that the two of you were meant to be after all?  You survived the open relationship, gave him the grace to sow his wild oats, and now—

“You’re hella cool about it, Jake.”  The voice interrupts Jake’s thoughts, and when he turns, he sees Fanboy standing beside him. 

“Cool about what?”

“Your girl.”

An icy finger of dread drags itself down his spine, but Jake hides it behind an easy smile.  “What about my girl?”

Fanboy shrugs and leans against the bar.  “I know you had this open thing.  I just never saw it play out in a way that wasn’t messy.”

Jake’s smile widens.  “She came around in the end.  It was just hooking up.  She always knew she had my heart.”

“Nah.”  Fanboy elbows him lightly in his side.  “I mean, you seem really cool with your girl hooking up with the pussy-eating champion of Miramar.”

That icy feeling of dread sinks into his stomach and settles there.  “What?”

“I’d be so jealous, man.”

“Wait, what?”

Fanboy nods in your direction where you stand with Rooster and Bob.  “You haven’t heard the gossip about him?  Yale’s girlfriend’s roommate dated him way back.  Nothing but good things to say about him.  Said he ate the kitty like a starving kid at an all-you-can-eat buffet.”

Jake has always relied on his lightning-fast reflexes, his quick thinking, but Fanboy’s words move through him like tar.  His mind slows down and refuses to grasp the words, and he shakes his head, tries to clear it.

“What?” he breathes out.

“Cafeteria-style, man.  Boy’s well-fed is what I’m saying.”

Jake’s eyes find you, then slide over to Rooster.  The blond man is saying something that makes you smile—

“Bradley?”  Jake says his name and it comes out rough, a growl.  “You talking about Bradley?”

Fanboy elbows him again, unaware of the way Jake’s world is tilting off-axis, the ground slipping from beneath his feet.

“Nah.  I’m talking about Baby on Board.”  Fanboy turns and looks at Jake, takes in the angry flush along his neck, the way his jaw twitches as he clenches his jaw.  “I mean, her and Bob, y’know?  You knew, right?”

Jake doesn’t answer.  He only shifts his gaze a fraction and focuses on Bob.  Bob.  Of all people, Bob.  Jake narrows his eyes and looks at what he has failed to see for months, and he finally notices that you stand an inch closer to the WSO.  He finally notices that Bob’s turned his body a degree towards you, the faintest bit of angling.

“How did you find out?” Jake manages to grit out to Fanboy.

“It wasn’t really a secret, man.  Harvard…”  He trails off, doesn’t finish the sentence.

“Harvard what?”

Fanboy huffs out a breath, clearly uncomfortable.  “Harvard…saw them.  Once.  They were…y’know.  Out by the lifeguard station.”  He takes a step back and holds up his hands in surrender.  “Don’t take it out on us.  We all thought it was cool with you.  That open thing you have going.”

-----

Part of him doesn’t believe it.

Part of him doesn’t want to believe it.

Part of him—a small, conscience-driven part of him—understands that this is the consequences of his actions.  Part of him knows he’s reaping what he sowed.

But part of him doesn’t believe it.

He pulls himself together.  He waves off Fanboy, says he’s just joking around, that everything is fine.  He goes to the bar and orders a shot.  Throws it back.  Takes long, deep breaths and composes himself.

He doesn’t believe it, but belief isn’t proof.

Once he’s calm, he makes his way over to you.  He takes it slow, casual, and he studies your face when you catch sight of him.  You give him a smile, and Jake thinks Fanboy is full of shit.

Jake makes up a lie.  He tells you that he’s found a friend for the evening, but he uses his usual oblique wording to soften the blow of it.

“I’m heading out early,” he says.  “You good to go home alone?”

Your smile falls a little, but you nod.  Rooster, beside you, lets out a displeased grumble.

Bob says nothing at all.

Jake leans in and brushes a kiss against your mouth, and you tell him to be careful, and he replies for you to be careful too.  Then he turns and leaves the Hard Deck…but when he gets in his truck, he only drives it out of the lot and into the shadows of a nearby cross-street.  He has a perfect line of sight to the door of the Hard Deck, but no one would see him unless they knew exactly where in the darkness to look.

It doesn’t take long for Jake to get his proof.

Ten, maybe fifteen minutes after he moves, you leave the Hard Deck too.  You’re laughing, your smile is so wide it must hurt your face…and right at your heels stumbling behind you, his hands on your waist as the two of you make your way to the parking lot…

It’s Bob.

[anonajn]

out of these i'm picking ian mckellan and tim curry in amadeus, but what i really want to see is keanu reeves doing hamlet in winnipeg in 1995. here is a review, and i also put it below

Most Excellent Prince

"What a piece of work is Keanu's Hamlet!"

This is one role that might have been written for the star of Speed, says Roger Lewis.

I crossed oceans of time to find him: 30 hours from my house in France, through several time zones and the polar wastes, to Winnipeg -- of all places the most God-forsaken. Situated in the dead centre of Canada, ice-bound for half the year, once a trading post for the Hudson Bay Co, and now a maze of subterranean shopping malls, Winnipeg is a town even the locals mock: "Winnipeg folk travel a lot -- to get away from Winnipeg";"Winnipeg looks great -- after dark, when the view is better..." They need not be so diffident. The standard of living is high (no beggars, no litter, no germs); they have opera, ballet, theatre -- and Keanu Reeves, the 30-year-old actor who had fled there, to be far out of reach, to play Hamlet.

Let's get it out of the way at once, and wipe that smirk off your face; if you had anticipated Bill and Ted's Shakeapearian Adventure, forget it. He was wonderful. He quite embodied the innocence, the splendid fury, the animal grace of the leaps and bounds, the emotional violence, that form the Prince of Denmark. He has the sheer virility of Larry Olivier's melancholy Dane -- which Keanu saw on video just the other week -- plus the Peter Pannishness, the little-boy-lost quality, that I remember Mark Rylance bringing to the role. He was both vulnerable (as in the scenes with Gertrude when a goodnight kiss goes on and on until mother and son recoil in horror at their arousal) and severe (as in the bit where he flies at Rosencrantz and Guildenstern for presuming to "play upon me...you would pluck out the heart of my mystery").

He is one of the top three Hamlets I have seen, for a simple reason; he *is* Hamlet, and he has been a lonely a resourceful type, who won't submit, in film after film. He is full of undercurrents and overtones, which is why the world's big directors want to work with him. He is killingly attractive, no question. He can look, from moment to moment, faintly oriental, with his slanted black eyes -- he has Chinese, Hawaiian and British blood in him -- or crew-cut clean Caucasian; he can be Californian (especially in his locutions: I'd not been asked whether I felt a really cool dude before) and exotic, like a Canadian-Indian -- I kept seeing his profile in ancient Inuit sculpture, which Winnipeg has museums full of.

But his physique is just the first thing which sets him apart. What counts is the impression we get of a nature that is turbulent and proud -- though he can exude calm and courtliness -- and that he has a gift given to few; like Garbo, he is an actor who can register -- simultaneously -- both pleasure and pain. And, like Garbo, he prefers to keep his own company. He doesn't want to be crowded.

Is that why he chose Winnipeg? A self-enclosed community in the lonesome prairie? He was there without bodyguards or companions; there is not Court of Keanu; no agents or PR persons or those curious factotums, former ballet dancers usually, who tend to cluster around a star, like maggots on a chop. He walked to work, shuffling through the snow (it was minus 25 degrees C) in his curious, dancing, tripping-over-himself way. He'd been seen in a cafe on his own, nursing a Perrier. Here was the paradox of this famous and desirable man, and there is nobody with him, ever. He is loved -- by million of hungry fans -- but does he know how to love? He went to the Prarie Oyster restaurant with the cast, and left early; taking his food away in a doggy bag; he went to an Italian restaurant and left in case two girls at the bar pestered him. None of this behaviour is sulky, tantrumy, make no mistake about that, for he has a great and unfeigned tenderness; it is more that, like Hamlet, he has a world within himself.

He is coping with stardom, and trying to appear normal (when he knows he is not) by ignoring it. He doesn't own a house in L.A. He lives in hotels or in the rooms of actors who are out of town. He doesn't want too easy a life -- the mansions and the flunkeys. He anchors his ship for a little while only, and this is how he struck me in conversation -- though he is sitting there, he is not quite there all the time, as he darts from mood to mood, curving and winding, cautious and direct. Though he had been an athletic, piratical Hamlet, there is this huge, I can only call it ethereal, element. He is retiring from society, from life -- and that might be dangerous; his spirituality could intensify, and he could spirit away. He is in his dressing room hours and hours before the show. I'll bet he is bouncing around and getting himself into mortal and human shape so that he can appear or stage. For he is an eagle, really; or a glossy and supple stallion.

Hollywood, meantime, would prefer this wild beast to be back with them, making more bomb-on-the-bus stuff; there were brokers and moguls, less interested in him than in the money he makes, doing their best to scupper the production. Shakespeare in Winnipeg! Three weeks on a basic Equity rate! When he could be reaping billions after Speed! (After all, reports last week of his sign-up fee for the new movie, Drop Dead, ranged from 4 million pounds to 10 million pounds.) Thus, the Manitoba Theatre Centre, a concrete lump that looks as though it is dissolving, was forbidden from arranging publicity interviews with the Principal Boy; there were to be no press tickets, photo calls, nothing. CBC was forbidden to run a clip of Keanu in action -- so their bulletin was literally Hamlet without the Prince.

Hollywood pretended it was not happening; they were deeply contemptuous and suspicious of the entire affair. The rumor was that Keanu's own representatives would not fly to see his performance until they were absolutely certain he had not made a fool of himself. Supportive, huh? It just makes him the more like Hamlet, coming here, against the odds; embattled. It had been his idea to work again with his drama school mentor, the Toronto director Lewis Baumander, for whom he was once a thrilling Mercutio; and the production was built around Keanu, quite deliberately. Gone is the messy, modern, neurotic Hamlet; Baumander has encouraged us to see the character's sense of duty; and Keanu -- who is himself facing a challange, taking a risk -- would make a good King of Denmark, because he has re-discovered the splendour of heroism, its Camelot quality; which is how he transfigured Speed, giving it extra spin and nuance.

The Winnipeggios were tickled pink to have him in their midst -- they had not seen a star since Charlie Chaplin drove through on his way to fish in the lake -- and this, plus the fact that all 22,000 seats for the run were sold out on subscription (i.e. before the box office opened), was a story in itself. The local press had a Keanu Hotline: "If you see Keanu out and about in Winnipeg, don't keep it a secret. Call 697-7368." But this scheme was spiked -- by the readers. "It's wonderful what he has done for Winnipeg," I was often told, and though most people had indeed spotted him, he was to be accorded respect and privacy. This seemed rather British -- old-fashioned and virtuous -- British like an Ealing comedy. People were so polite, they would phone the theatre and ask if they could ask for an autograph ("He's very approachable," said the receptionist. "You could come and see him in the lobby"). The staff at the Sheraton, not wanting to over-do it, obtained a single signature and photocopied it.

Best of all -- a moment out of a Boulting Bros. film -- was the opening night itself. "Ladies and gentlemen, please be upstanding for the Governor General of Manitoba and Mrs Carlton Browne, and the Lady Mayoress and her goddaughter Patsy." And in trooped these Peter Sellers characters, in medals and ostrich plumes and we sang God Save the Queen. That this was followed by a burst of jangling rock music and Keanu in a spotlit tableau grieving over his father's tomb is I suppose what these days gets to be called surreal.

Afterwards, the cast party: to which the entire audience was invited. Though the Winnipeg Free Press and the Winnipeg Sun reported this as a stellar evening to outrank Graumann's Chinese, the atmosphere, for all the ice sculptures of Elsinore and cavier canapes, was actually much more like a village hall -- with Keanu down at the end scribbling on people's programmes and posters. He was still performing -- or continuing to be, in endless permutation. For each person, he would adjust, to make them special: a puppyish younger brother with men; a chivalric knight when calming the hyperventilating teens; the adored grown-up son to the older women, who want to be his mother, Wendy to his frowning Peter Pan. Men and women desire that he should like them, and he would speak to them and pose for their Instamatics, and they'd fantasise forever that he'd stay with them. (There were no ogling gays in evidence, by the way. Perhaps the Canadian cold snaps keep them down.)

He doesn't need applause; he wants to survive the flattery. His exhortation to me was to deal justly with him. He is measurelessly puzzling and fascinating.

I'll never forget one occasion. It was midnight and we were standing outside the theatre, wrapped up against the cold -- and there was this huge hearse-like stretch limo 20 or so yards away. This was the only touch that said "movie star" and was very un-Winnipeg. "My mother," he said, in his low, soft and furry voice. "She had come to town to see the production," and the sinister car conveyed her -- and him -- around the corner to the Westin Hotel.

Before disappearing, he glanced at the the vehicle with amusement and embarrassement. Dressed in his layers of black, tall and elegant and as slim as a shark's fin, and with the snowflakes softly falling on his hat, twinkling and refusing to melt on his skin, and with his face inclined towards me, so intent you would swear he could listen to the wolves barking amid the ice and frozen rivers, he was very beautiful.

Time Travel Question 67: Assorted Performances VI

These Questions are the result of suggestions from the previous iteration.

This category may include suggestions made too late to fall into the correct grouping.

Please add new suggestions below if you have them for future consideration.

[queer-brainrot]

ok so here's the thing about jercy. they're like an onion, they have layers

they are totally boyfriends that call each other dude and bro all the fucking time, they tease each other and joke around, they get into dumb competitions with each other and their banter is top notch

but they're also. all over each other. and not like in a making out in front of everyone kind of way but like you can't tell me jason isn't touch-starved and i just know that his sweet, empathetic, emotionally intelligent percy is going to pick up on that. so Percy is always touching Jason, an arm over his shoulder or resting his hand on the small of his back or holding hands while they patrol with their swords in their dominant hands. jason probably doesn't realize how badly he needs it until he gets it and then he doesn't know how to ask for it but percy delivers anyways. eventually jason works his way up to using his words and even initiating the contact he craves all by himself

bottom line they are soft for each other, as leaders of their camps it's hard for them to let their guard down but with each other they can because they know the other just gets it and they feel safe. you don't think jason absolutely breaks down crying on percy's chest after meeting sally and comparing it to his own mother, while percy holds him through it and reassures him that sally is his family too? you don't think jason will stay up all night holding percy when the nightmares get to be too much? i think these two are able to open up much more to each other than anyone else. they're both the big spoon, they're both the little spoon, they each need it sometimes ok

but just because they're soft and in love does not mean they don't go hard on each other in training, they fight in the arena without holding back. they're still super competitive with one another whether it's sword fighting, demigod abilities, or dumb stuff (including but not limited to flirting and making the other blush). they know the other can take it

but oh my gods if one of them gets hurt? they are so fucking protective. between percy 'loyalty is my fatal flaw' jackson and jason 'raised by wolves' grace they would do anything, go absolutely feral, to keep the the other safe from any threat, real or perceived, because they're so precious to one another. these traits probably also lead into some possessiveness but like they're into it and i promise it's not in a toxic way it's just very low-key they know they don't like "own" each other alright

so like yeah they can be pushing each other around bro-ing out almost looking like they're just friends, or you can question how they can look ready to kill each other when they spar, but you gotta look for the subtle things. look in their eyes, they can't keep the absolute love and adoration out of their eyes. and remember, as touchy as they are when they're relaxing around camp, you will never see what they're like when it's just themselves (hint it's a complete mashup of bro shit and soft love and passion), and if you try getting too close to either boyfriend they will both instantly shut you down

[tinylilacbun]

I feel like it would be so funny qhen the pogues find out jj already got a new job, and then find out is a job babysitting for kooks. I feel like everyone in the room would be speechless at first and pope would be like "babysit to what, a dog?" "no?? she's three. very cute by the way-and wait, is that even a thing?" "oh, poor kid🤦🏿‍♂️" and altought they all suport each other, they're all kiiind of insecure reguarding jj's new "awesome" plan, because, well, they don't think jj is actually the most patient and responsible to be around kids. I mean, how did he even got this job? How could someone look at jj and think "wow, he's so good with babies"

but then they would all change their minds on the first time jj brings reader to hang out with them, and they witness JJ turn into a role different version of himself - helping reader do basic things like braiding her hair or eat her veggies, and even nap with her laying on his chest in the couch while the pogues are all staring in... awe and confusion? lmao I would be too

Wait, can I request something with this concept?

I can so imagine them being like "Nah, you gotta be joking." And then JJ pulls out his phone showing all the silly photos he has of you both together, being all smug about it too and the pogues are completely baffled looking at him like: 😦

They're asking him various questions, like how's the pay? How the hell he managed to get a babysitter job, knowing this boy can't even take care of himself for all we know. How kooks trust JJ freaking maybank with their kid??

The pogues are concerned that their friend is being threatened to say that your parents are actually really nice and pay him well, so well that he doesn't want to bring it up.

Obviously they want proof of that and see it for themselves, so JJ asks your parents if he could take his friends with him next time he babysits before anything else and of course your parents said yes, why wouldn't they? They trust him.

And so the pogues finally meet the reason JJ has been rather busy lately as you come running from your room the second you hear his voice, crashing into his awaiting arms.

"Jayj! Missed you so much." You giggle as JJ stands up with you clinging to him, your legs dangling in the air.

"I was here two days ago." He reminds you with a chuckle and you pout.

"Still missed you!"

Then you notice his friends standing behind him, a smile growing on each of their faces. JJ sets you back down and you go to hide behind his legs, suddenly shy from all the new people as you whisper out a small 'hi'.

Kie and Sarah coo at how adorable you are, just wanting to pinch your cheeks. John B, Pope, and Cleo just give you a small wave, which you of course return.

"You gotta give her some time to warm up, and don't touch her until she says it's okay." JJ warns them, his hand ruffling your hair.

Some time later the others are actually impressed by how attentive JJ is with you, always answering when you ask something no matter how silly it is, playing with you what you want, even getting you to eat the nasty veggies.

Now you all are sprawled on the big sofa in the living room, your favorite movie playing on the tv but you're already napping on JJ's chest as he draws shapes on your back.

"I have to be honest, I really thought you were kidding us with this whole thing but damn JJ you really know what you're doing." John says, watching how gentle the blonde is with you, he's never seen his best friend being this soft with anyone, much less a kook.

JJ shushes him, pressing a finger to his lips. "Princess is getting her beauty sleep, don't you dare disrupt that, bro."

Taglist

For everything:

@my-river-lilly @pauntedblacknails @fanfictioniseverything @buckymydarlingangel @hallecarey1 @daybreakwinter @loveshineslikethesky @vase-of-lilies @white-wolf1940 @simpingbutch @mischiefsemimanaged @alina02 @teddybearsgrr @doozywoozy @angelbabydoll28 @glxwingrxse @lilymurphy03 @veryvaughnny @lokigirlszendaya @youngstarfishdinosaur @little--baby--bear @minideathgoddess @rach2602 @gh0stgurl @flourishandblotts-inc @lovelyy-moonlight @yoruse

@mythixmagic @iris-xoxo-juhu @mylettterstoyou @sunf1ower16 @sweetstars-posts @rafecameronsloverrrrr

For JJ:

@chiaraanatra @chimindity @flora-eva

[sturn5iolo]

BECOMING THIS

synopsis: you and matt broke up and now your slowly losing yourself, and becoming someone you hate.

pairing: ex! matt sturniolo x f!reader

warnings: angst (not really) , drinking / drugs , use of y/n (i’m sorry)

you grab another plastic red cup, filing it with random alcohol siting on the counters not even daring to look at what they are. taking the mixed concoction, chugging the whole thing in seconds. you feel the burn go down your throat as you stumble forward onto the cold counter of a strangers house. 

a few hours before, your friends had to beg you to come to this party. of course when they asked you were high off your mind and you agreed.

you feel your friend ava come up behind you, “hey do you wanna come sit with me, you don’t look too good..” she spoke in your ear.

“noooo im fine let me do what i want.” you slurred out to her, pouring yourself another drink. ava walked away not wanting to budge anymore.

you move your body to a couch nearby. a brunette boy sat on the farthest side of the couch, you sit down a few inches away from him. he had a joint in between his lips and a lighter in one of his hands, you watch him from the corner of your eye.

he takes one long drag before pulling it away from his lips, suddenly as he blows the smoke out he turns and faces you, “you wanna hit?” he asks. you scoot closer to him while slurring out a “okay..”

the unknown boy moves the joint from his lips to yours, watching closely as you inhale the smoke. after a few long hits and passing the joint back and forth, you start coughing, feeling the alcohol and weed start to mix together and make you cross faded.

while sitting with the boy, your other friend gia comes running towards you and grabbed your arm, “there you are! i was looking all over for you,” she yells out loud to you over the music, pulling you away.

as you get pulled around someone bumps into you, making you stumble backwards a bit. it was matt.

“oh my bad i didn-” he starts but cuts himself off as he looks at your face. “y/n.”

your lips form a straight line as you nod. matt takes in your bloodshot eyes and immediately understands what is up, “are you fucking high right now?”

you scoff at him and giggle, “none of your business.” you say walking outside but matt follows you, “uhm actually yes it is.” he defends.

feeling the cold air hit your body was a relief, “how matt we broke up like two months ago?” you question, still having the weed and alcohol in your system barely processing this conversation.

“because y/n, you always hated stuff like that! you would try convincing people not to drink or smoke and here you are!” matt says to you. he knows exactly why your doing all this, and it’s because of him. he’s the one who broke your heart.

“i don’t understand the problem matt.” you bluntly replied. “the problem is this! you becoming this! i know we’re broken up but i can’t live knowing this is happening.” he cried out to you.

you run your hands through your frizzy hair, “well that’s too bad matt. your going to have to.” you smile, walking off into the darkness with just your phone in hand.

a/n : this is so horrible but i’m posting it anyways erm first fic on this account 🥲👏

[magicwhiskers29]

God today's page is so aughijjgghhghhhh. Augh.

Like, I've seen people bring up how awful it must be for Rachel, because she's spent years defending both Jekyll and Hyde, and yet they lied to her, but I'd argue it's worse than that.

It's not just about the lie to Rachel -- that's not why she's crying. Because imagine finding out that the guy you spent your time gossping with, because he was so casual with you, he's not your bff or your boss, and because he reminds you of the brother you lost, only to find out that he was never just that person. Imagine finding this out and not knowing that Hyde really is a completely separate identity, because then you can only question why Jekyll would do this to you. Why would he let you fuss over him and treat him like someone else entirely?

For Lanyon, the conflict is about Jekyll. His love interest is actually also secretly the guy he really hates, and who has been right up in his face and rude to him about really cutting, personal things. It's reconciling Jekyll's other side with him.

But I'd argue that for Rachel, it's about Hyde. She's Jekyll's BFF, sure, but I get the impression that their relationship has to be slightly more professional. He treats her extremely politely and cordially, all part of being a gentleman, but then there's Hyde, who she really, desperately wants to help, and who treats her completely differently. He acts kind of childishly, out that means there's not that wall of professionalism between them. She's instantly drawn to him because he looks like her brother, and she thinks that maybe she can actually help him.

She indulges Hyde so much, and the power dynamic is definitely more skewed towards her, from her perspective, compared to her and Jekyll, but I think they feel much more like equals, and times. It'd Hyde who she can do finger guns at and say "werewolf boy" to. It's Hyde who she can light-hearted mischief with. There is still a layer of distance between them, because of how much Hyde plays himself up as the "Spirit of London at Night", but I don't know if Rachel necessarily recognises that.

And then her dialogue here... She wants to make people happy, and that's why she placed her trust in Hyde, and really puts her whole heart into trying to get him out of trouble after he becomes wanted, but with this reveal, that all shatters. She hasn't mace the people she spent her time defending Hyde to happy, and she feels betrayed by both Jekyll and Hyde, because if they're going through all this, then clearly they're not happy either!

How can she defend Hyde now? She isn't sure what she knows about him anymore.

And... I don't think Rachel knowing earlier would hsve actually "fixed" anything, but she clearly thinks it would have done, which. Augh.

I don't think it's just about the perceived lie. It's about letting both of her close friends down