#and people almost always write him like he gets off on it...

[toothfa-1-ry]

YOU STILL LIKE IT THOUGH

GENRE: Fluff, crack fic ish?

PAIRING: Choi su-bong/thanos x preg!fem!reader

FEAT: Nam gyu as the supportive bestie (that he never rlly was)

A/N: this fic i based of a request from anon !! Tbh i changed ALOT of the request (haha- sorry 😞) because I felt like it was a little repetitive and idk i just can't write rlly emotional scenes with Thanos for some reason (??) ALSO I feel like there are parts where Thanos seems ooc? Idk.. i wrote this instead of studying in the span of 30 mins

"Whoo!" You hear Thanos shout on the top of his voice while he high fives nam gyu as they both jump up and down as if they were children in elementary school after winning a play ground game

You manage your groan, suppressing it while you stare at them from afar, of course that crazy fucker managed to pass through the first game.

You hated to admit it, but a part of you was relieved,

You always had a thing for psycho guys, and your ex boyfriend? The one with the brightly dyed hair who was now doing some weird dance seemed to proudly embody every part of that sentiment.

You carefully watch from afar, not wanting to catch his eyes, your hand unknowingly lay over your stomach while you move uncomfortably in the bunk bed

Fuck, your feeling dizzy all over again

You hear a thud against your bed post, you look up slowly, your eyes slightly squinting to see the purple haired boy with a usual frown on his face

"Hey" his eyebrows raise "are you okay"

"I thought I told you to get lost earlier"

Your mood swings weren't really helping either

"Geez woman" thanos tchs but sits beside you in your bed anyways "im just trying to help" grumbling under his breath but the cautious expression in his face saied otherwise

"I came here to brag about how amazing i usually am but seeing you like this is just killing the vibe yknow"

he makes a hand gesture in the air, leaning face closer in an attempt to make you smile which does not go wasted as the smile you tried to supress escaped your face

"Fuck off you loser" your still kneeling, your hands over your knees and your face hiding behind your knees but he hears the smile in your voice anyways.

He wouldn't want to admit it, but he was relieved

He always had a thing for girls with pretty voices and you? The girl right next to him had to have one of the prettiest voices he had ever heard. Ofcourse who would better know than a rapper like himself?

"I thought I told you to stick close to me, instead you leech to that crazy old man" thanos says as he points towards gi hun who sat far away in the opposite side

You immediately slap his hand, causing him to wince while retracing it back, rubbing it softly

"How many times will I tell you! You shouldn't point your hands at strangers especially to people who are older" you scold him rather loudly causing him to wince even more

"Agh" thanos ruffles his neon hair while complaining "why don't you shout louder so that everyone will hear and laugh at me?"

You resist the urge to roll your eyes upon his childish manners, he really didn't change

Thanos suddenly bangs the top of the bunk with a loud sound, taking you by shock

"Oi" his voice loud and almost threatening "nam gyu" calling out the man above the bed

Immediately your taken by shock once more when a man's head pops upside down, with black oily hair falling all over his face from above the bed

"Yes Thanos?" Nam gyu quickly inquired while sparing you a quick glance which didn't go unnoticed by the scowling man next to you

"Did you hear her telling me off?" He points at nam gyu before quickly adding "careful, there's only one correct answer"

Nam gyu pauses and thinks which seems to be the wrong thing to do as it just annoys Thanos

"Whats wrong with you, tell me quickly!"

"N-no! Not at all! Infact nobody heard anything!" Nam gyu quickly says, obviously lying but this seemed to please Thanos who now held a haughty face

Wow, this is was supposedly the father of your unborn child. Shame you and your taste in weird guys

Before Thanos could open his mouth to say something, a group of pink guards enter the room with large containers

Straight away you freeze up, shrinking behind the bed while your heart hammered, fear spread across your face

Noticing your expression on your face, instinctively Thanos covers you with his back, shielding you with his arms which covered your sides while his expression, though you could not see was filled with wariness

The pink guards open the large containers they were carrying as everyone watched quietly, scared as they were unsure of what to expect, you included

The pink guard with the white circle lifts up a piece of bread and milk "lunch time" announcing in the same robotic voice like all the other guards

A sigh of relief escapes your mouth as your shoulders relax, unlike you Thanos still shields you, covering your face with his back

You hit him with a thud on the back of his head

"What the hell man" thanos turns around, his eyes glaring at you

"Stop trying to act like a hero you shameless prick" you frown even though his actions did leave you with a warm feeling in your heart

"Your acting so protective after all the stunt you pulled before we broke up" you continue "seeing you act all so protective is just pissing me off even more"

Thanos throws his head back, groaning "give me a break woman. You know I was going through a hard time"

"Bullshit" your fold your arms, as if it was act to protect yourself, and the unborn baby in your stomach.

The poor thing was only 2 months old

The both of you hear nam gyu cough from above the bed, forgetting that he was there in the first place

Again Thanos bangs the top of the bunk, causing you to give him a look

"Stop doing that" you scold him

"doing what?" Thanos raises his eyebrow before banging the top of the bunk again while sticking his tongue at you

Nam gyu pops back down again, upside down, the sight would have been hilarious only if you weren't experiencing the pain in your stomach and the sight of the man sitting beside you

"Go get lunch for me and my girl" thanos tilts his head towards you while avoiding your eyecontact while you tell yourself not to think about the fact that he still referred to you as 'his girl'

"go fast what are you still doing here" thanks reprimanded nam gyu

Nam gyu awkwardly stood unsure of what to say "but it's just one bread and one milk per person"

"Then give her yours" thanos said simply "and go steal someone's lunch for me"

"Then what about for me?" Nam gyu asked dumbfounded which caused Thanos to pause and think for a while

"That's not my fucking problem man- now go" he pushes him away, leaving you with a heavy sigh

"I don't want to eat"

"Don't talk bullshit" thanos eyes you "you think i'm gonna let you starve? I never did, and i wont be starting now"

Again with the whole protective boyfriend act, fuck, why did it make your heart race a little?

"Your still such an asshole, you didnt change a bit" you huffed as you leaned behind, resting your back against the wall

"Well you changed" thanos says which quirks your curiosity

"How so?'

"I don't know" he shrugs "something is different. Something happened, i can't exactly ppint my fi ger at it though"

Your eyes dart away from his while your breathing started to fasten slightly

"Oh yea? How so?" You ask, your voice slightly higher than it was which Thanos picks up immediately

"Ohoho" he grins "did I get it right? Did you get something done?" He glances you up and down which leads you to hitting him

"Ow- i was just joking, you still take everything so seriously" he grumbled holding your hand from hitting him "I wish that part had changed'

Your other hand comes swinging which he again grabs softly

"jokingg" he says in a sing song voice before letting both your arms go leaving you with a scowl and him with a satisfied smirk in his face

"Asshole" you mutter which stretches his smirk even more

"You still like it though"

You almost swear you heard a hint of vulnerability in his tone, prompting you to glance at him quickly just to catch him already looking at you

"So? Aren't you gonna ask me what has changed?" You ask slowly, in your head trying to process whether your doing the right thing or not,

You first found out you were pregnant with your baby right after you and Thanos broke up.

The following days, whenever you went to pay him a visit, he was always missing, causing you to believe maybe it was better for him not to know. And then you suddenly meet him for the first time after your breakup during the squid games

The timing was almost comical

"Why?" Thanos continued still with an amused face "you still seem the same on the inside"

Your hand immediately goes to your stomach, slowly tracing along it from above the green track jacket which everyone wore

"Don't tell me your sick or something" thanos asks with his voice slightly raised as he notices your action "fuck are you?"

His eyes slightly widens as he frowns "hey" he snaps his finger upon your zoning out "are you sick?"

"Hm?" You ask confused

"What the fuck" he swears under his breath with a anxious expression on his face while his hand runs through his finger "is that why your here? To win some money for your treatment?"

"Su Bong its not like that-" All your attempts of correcting him seemed to be futile as he sweared loudly, getting out of the bed

"Shit shit shit!" He grabs his head while he paced around the floor, a sight you had seen a few times over the span of your relationship

"ofcourse that's why your here, you would only be here for a sensible reason"

"Oh, su bong" you attempt to appeal to him, reaching your hand out, pulling his closer towards you while he hands were still over his head, eyes lowered

"Fuck baby I'm so sorry" he breathed out "shit i never should have left, i thought" he paused "I thought I'd win some money and get you back, give you the life you really deserve but"

You watch his dazed expression while he rambled, you bit you underlip, hesitant of whether to tell him the truth still

"Fuck, i didn't even know that, i didn't even know you were sick-"

Before he could continue again you grab his face , forcing him to look at your face

"I'm not sick, that's not why im here"

Thanos breathed heavily, everything felt so real suddenly, he felt his cross necklace strapped around his neck, his fingers itching to pop a pill in his mouth to sooth his nerves

"I'm not sick" you shake your head as you lean your forehead against his "su-bong"

You can still feel his strained breaths and darting eyes

"I'm pregnant"

And it all stopped,

You held your breath, afraid of what would happen if you let go, your could heart your heartbeat from your ears, feel the realisation setting inside thanos,

You were scared. Scared of how he would react

He breaks away first, slowly and gently. Staring at you with no expression in his face,

"And it's yours" you rapidly feel the need to add, taken back by his silence which didn't not suit him "and i know having a kid was never in your plan, and i know things are over between us but-"

Your body is wrapped by his arms and his face nestles in your neck, pulling your deeper in his embrace

"Holy shit" thanos whispers in your ear, you can hear the giddiness radiating off his voice "im a dad"

"Yea you are" you laugh a little as you say "your a dad"

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I never got the chance to"

Thanos furrows his eyebrows but doesn't press any more "will you let me be our baby's dad?" He ask

"You know I grew up without a dad, this kid doesn't deserve that" he pokes your stomach with a soft grin which looked slightly odd against his eccentric features "I wanna be in this kids life"

You nodd softly, hearing his words

"And yours too" thanos looks up to you, grinning while he winked at you "senorita"

"You corny bastard" you laugh shaking your head

"You still like it though"

You nodd your head, with tenderness in your eyes and voice

"I do"

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊ extra scene pack !!

"Thanos!" Nam gyu came running with 3 pieces of sweet bread and 3 packets of milk "I got it! Do you know how much trouble i went to get all these-"

"Give it here " thanos grabbed all the bread and milk away "why did you take so long anyways"

Nam gyu held his hands as he pouted "I mean- i had to fight like 2 guys for bread and milk for us-"

Thanos brushed him off as he opened all the packets of bread and poked in the straw of all the milk packets

"Uhm thanos" nam gyu apprehensively called out "What are you doing?"

Thanos hands you all the bread and urges you to eat while he holds the packets of milk in his hand, ready to feed you

Thanos gestures towards you who was sitting in the bed, now wrapped in not only your jacket but his aswell "can't you see the lady is pregnant"

Nam gyu scratched his head "pregnant? With who?"

Thanos shakes his head, exaggerating his actions "dumb ass, she's pregnant with my baby ofcourse" he announced like it was the most obvious thing in the world

"Holy shit!" Nam gyu gaped his hand covering his mouth as he stares at you while you sheepishly smile at him

Thanos let out a small laugh which then slowly grew louder

"What? Why are you surprised? Ofcourse i succeeded in my first try- fuck" he kneels down in pain after being striked by you in the stomach

Nam gyu pulls a face in behalf of Thanos as he pats his back sympathetically while he whispers to you

"Don't worry. I know it probably wasnt his first try or anything- ow" nam gyu kneels on the ground after being hit in the stomach by thanos

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

"What... what are you guys doing?" You question as you approach Thanos and nam gyu who were huddled up in a corner, in a long rather quiet conversation which seemed like an unusual activity for both of them to part take in

Both in the 'discussion' and 'quiet' part

Thanos loops his arm around your with a proud smirk on his face while urging nam gyu to announce what they were discussing

Nam gyu nodds eagerly as gets up in his two feet quickly, standing straight and tall with a loud and confident voice "we have decided the perfect name for the baby !!"

You see thanos's broad smile and nam gyu's confident voice, uneasiness settling in your stomach for whatever name they picked out

"These is the name that Thanos and i have personally given a lot of thought for and chosen after much contemplation !!"

Thanos nodded his head with a content expression while he winked at you, assuring that you'll like it

"Ahem" nam gyu clears his throat "before I announce the name that we have chosen, i would like to give recognition to the name we almost chose aswell !!"

Thanos immediately began clapping his hand loudly "waaah, I never knew you could speak so well "

This comment made nam gyu's chest fill swell with pride as he puffs out his chest a little

"I shall now, announce the first runners up, the name that almost was given to the new born baby"

nam gyu pauses which prompts Thanos to make the sound of drum rolls

"Nebula" nam gyu announces as he and thanos clap loudly.

Seeing your still figure both men urge you to claps aswell

"Nebula?" You mutter under your breath "where have i heard that name before?"

"And now, the name that has been selected over numerous selection test and discussion, the name of the baby is" nam gyu points at your stomach

"Gamora"

Thanos whoops loudly, both nam gyu and him clapping their hands in the air while you stand off handedly as it hits you

"Your naming our child after the daughter of the purple alien monster from a superhero movie?!"

[stellasdrafts]

The Light in His Eyes (Vendetta! Leon)

Summary: you have each other’s backs (Vendetta! Leon x DSO!Reader)

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: alcoholism (on Leon’s part), some vendetta leon comfort because that man needs it :(, no official relationship but mutual feelings are implied, pining…

Notes: a small Christmas-ish one-shot in january because it’s my blog and i make the rules (i forgot to post in december whoops). also sorry this one is christmas specific but christmas lights are very special to me and i wanted to write a little something about them <3

One of these days, these missions are going to kill you. You’re sure of it. You find yourself sitting on a rooftop overlooking the city, needing some fresh air after almost getting your head bitten off on call today. Being a D.S.O. agent isn’t for the faint-hearted and truth be told, sometimes you aren’t sure how you got this far in the first place. You close your eyes, deeply breathing in the cold, stuffy city air and listening to the night traffic below. What would it be like to live a normal, quiet life? For your only burden to be being stuck in the traffic below on your way home from your safe nine to five? Your heart aches when you have thoughts like these…

You’re snapped out of your mournful contemplation when someone clears their throat behind you. You whip your head around, startled. You barely register your fists clenching and muscles tensing up, ready to throw a punch or something, your tired brain registering the sound as the grunt of an infected.

“S’just me.” Leon lifts his hands, traipsing toward you. “Can I join?”

Your shoulders slump with relief. Truth be told, you wanted to spend time alone tonight, but Leon happens to be the one who saved your life today and you figure you owe him this much. “Mhm.” You nod and pat the freezing concrete beside you.

He takes the offered seat and leans back, propping himself on his arms. His warmth carries through the cold wind and seeps through your jeans. He’s only an inch or two away, after all. Despite your previous sentiment, his presence is oddly soothing. You’ve never met anyone as good as him in your field of work. He makes you feel safe, like somehow, you’re immortal in his presence because he always looks out for his team. It’s impossible, really. You know it’s a childish and dangerous mindset to have in this line of work, but there’s just something about him. You wonder how much that selflessness is destroying him from the inside….

Actually, the habituality of the liquor on his breath may already give you an idea.

“Quite a view, isn’t it?”

“Hmm?” You look up at him, noticing how his eyes are fixed on the sea of tall buildings before you. “Oh, yeah… I like the lights. I’ve always liked lights.”

A grin tugs at his lips. “Oh yeah?” He shifts to rest on one knee to get a better look at you.

You feel yourself melt under the older agent’s gaze. “Yeah. All kinds of lights…”

He just watches you for a moment and you find yourself silently cursing the extensive psychology training the government’s had you D.S.O. agents do. You’re sure he can read you like a book, seeing through the façade you’ve been tirelessly trying to keep up. He has his own, after all.

He looks out at the few festive lights wrapped around balcony railings and trees standing proudly in windows. “Like… Christmas lights?”

That reaches you. You turn your head to look at him with a dopey smile. “Especially Christmas lights. I miss them a lot.”

Your nostalgia must be contagious because he smiles at you too. You never see him smile anymore. In your few years of working together, you’ve never known him to be an extraordinarily sunny man, but it had worsened recently. Little to your knowledge, he likes seeing you smile, especially when it’s directed at him. “I didn’t know you liked Christmas so much. Maybe I should buy you a tree and some lights this year,” he jokes lightly.

You shrug, your smile fading a bit. “We never stay in one place long enough… And people don’t celebrate as much as when we were kids. It wouldn’t be the same.”

His expression softens considerably when he notices the shift in your demeanour. His lips pull into a much more familiar tight frown, his shoulders dropping a bit as well. “Yeah, I guess so…” he pauses for a moment, debating his next words. “We could make our own tradition, you know?”

You tilt your head, your smile fully sarcastic and sour now. “Sure. If we’re both still alive by holiday break.”

He grimaces, evidently not liking the sudden grim attitude, even if it carries truth. Ironic, you find yourself thinking, for a man with his attitude. “Don’t talk like that,” he chides softly, wrapping an arm behind you and dragging you a twinge closer. “I’m not letting you die anytime soon.”

And you know that coming from his lips, that’s a vow, not a weak promise. You lean into his warmth, the cold wind hitting you again now that you’re no longer in your cozy bubble of colourful lights and denial. “Right. Sorry…”

“It’s alright.” He gives your side a reassuring squeeze and resumes staring out at the dark skyline.

The two of you sit in comfortable silence for a minute or two, admiring (perhaps longingly) the people going about their lives in their apartments and offices. Parents putting their children to bed, couples cooking together, families watching what you self-indulgingly believe to be holiday movies in their decorated living rooms… Even the young man working alone at this hour of the night seems to sit with some sense of serenity. All possibilities of the lives you and Leon could have had if you hadn’t been pushed into the claws of the genius Division of Security Operations. He sighs – if in soul-crushing envy or in momentary peacefulness, you can’t tell. But his whiskey-ridden breath is warm and a welcome contrast to the cool winter night air.

You chew at your lip, getting a bit nervous. “You smell like booze,” you remark quietly.

“I know.” He chuckles and you know it’s a piss-poor attempt to cover how uncomfortable the topic of his drinking makes him feel. “You got a problem with that?” He scratches his neglected stubble.

You know a slightly hostile question is the best outcome for you. If it were anyone else starting an intervention, he would’ve raised his voice already. You’ve seen it first-hand with some other people on the team. “You’ve got a problem with that, Leon.” You stare blankly at the buildings ahead, your previous fascination and warmth for the sight dampened.

You feel Leon’s body stiffen beside you and his demeanour shifts. You look, and like you, he no longer seems as placated as he was a mere minute ago. His brows tug down and his gaze darkens. “Don’t do that. Not you,” his tone is surprisingly tender for being paired with his current expression.

He knows you mean well. He knows you’re worried about him. But he can’t bear having you look at him like everyone else does, like you have to tiptoe around him or like he’s always incompetent and inebriated. He looks away out of shame. He knows you’re right, but he’s stubborn and also knows that’s led to his downfall more than once.

“Are you even going to remember this tomorrow?”

Leon looks back up, his gaze stormy. His defensiveness gets the best of him, as it usually does in these situations. He’s angry, or at least he’s trying to be. But you’re sitting close enough to spot the gleam of self-hatred in those beloved blue eyes. “Why does it matter if I do or not?”

“Because believe it or not, our conversations actually mean a lot to me.” The weight of your words hangs between the pair of you for a moment. “And it’s dangerous to day drink with a job like ours. We never know when we’ll get called out. It’ll get you killed,” you add to try and save face as if you don’t care more about him than you do the other agents.

He cringes a bit more at that, and his anger falters in favour of discomfort. He sighs and leans an elbow on his knee, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look, I appreciate the concern, but you don’t have to worry about me. I’m fine.”

You tuck your knees up to your chest, even his body heat isn’t enough to cancel out the cold between you now. “That’s what worries me. You act like it’s fine, it’s normal. You don’t even act drunk anymore. You don’t… slur your words or stumble around or vomit everywhere. Apart from being angrier… depressed… you behave normally when you’re drunk.” You turn your body in his direction, trying desperately to get through to him. “You’re not even you anymore. Isn’t that scary?”

He exhales again, letting his hand drop from his face. He knows you’re right. Damn it, you’re always right, but he can never bring himself to admit it. “I… I don’t get what the big deal is. I do my job – well, if I might add. I don’t get into bar fights with random civilians… unless they ask for it. I supply my own drinks and keep to myself. So why’re you worrying?”

You take his face in your hands, your expression softening. Maybe he won’t lie to your face if he’s looking right at it. “Leon, drop the act, please.” From what you hear, he’s a shell of the person he used to be.

His eyes widen with surprise. He doesn’t answer anything for a few moments, your gentle touch making his mind go blank for a second. He can’t remember the last time anyone was gentle with him. He knows he can’t argue when you use that tone or when you have that look in your eye. “Fuck…”

He practically sags onto you as he lets himself feel everything he’s been drowning in alcohol for months. You have an agonizing way of making the tension in his body disappear with nothing but a few words in that honeyed tone of yours.

You support his weight. Like you always do, as he always does yours. Because it’s just Leon. You’d never let him fall, in any sense of the word. “You know, how are you supposed to put up that tree and the lights you offered me if you’re too drunk to make sense of anything? I’m not letting you in my room at HQ if the drinks are making you a grouch, either.”

He does want to give you that, a tree grand and worth being yours, pretty lights you can stare at while you doze off in the evenings, Christmas itself… More than anything, he wants to make you happy. The thought alone makes him happy. He huffs and looks away to hide his smile. “Yeah, yeah. Damn you.”

You let out a breath and a smile of your own, feeling relieved that you got to him at least a little bit. “Try again, please… At least to cut back. We can do it this time.”

He tenses again at your request. It’s not an easy one, and he’s reluctant to agree, not sure if he can even will himself to cut back so easily. But you’re too close, too warm, and you’re using that damn tone in your voice that always gets to him. He wants better for you. For himself, too. A shot at a better life. “I’ll try. Try. For you, alright?”

You hum. “That’s all I ask.” You bring up a delicate hand and brush some of that pesky hair out of his face.

He practically melts into your touch, too tired to bother hiding the effect you have on him. You both know something has been lingering between you for a while, anyway. “Anything else you want from me?” he mutters in a teasing tone, trying to lift the atmosphere he feels he ruined.

You chuckle lightly. “Probably, but we’ll work towards those things later on.”

He perks up at that, a smug smirk toying at his lips as he picks up on the implications of your words. “Y’gotta be a little more specific than that.”

Your eyes soften. Not now. Not like this. “I’ll tell you when you’re sober.” Your timbre isn’t unkind – it’s careful, genuine… You’re trying to encourage him more than anything, knowing he always fares well with a challenge or an end goal.

The muscles in his face ease as well. He gives a small nod. “I’ll hold you to that.”

You feel a spark in your chest of something you haven’t felt in a long time – hope. “So will I.”

You’re more determined than ever to bring back that light to his eyes.

[saradika]

— bedroom hymns

mand'alor!sub!din x wife!dom!reader

rated e - 2.5k

tags: mand’alor!din, sub!din, soft dom!wife!reader, breeding kink, beskar cock cage, reference to needles & birth control, enthusiastic oral sex, dirty talk, unprotected sex, creampie, references to pregnancy

a/n: my fic for @wannab-urs's event - dom that middle aged man! 💖 thank you so much for hosting this (and excited to share, I've always wanted to write sub!din!)

You’d liked this, when you first got together. His desire. How much he wanted to consume you. To take - the weight of his armor pressing into your back, as he drove you into the thin mattress of his bunk.

But this is what you like more. The leash he offers so willingly to you. Eager to obey, even as the collar tightens. Following at your heels.

After all, his duty is to his people. But it’s you that he serves.

His gaze has been on you all night.

You’ve learned the weight of it, even through his helmet. How his eyes find your form, again and again.

Lingering on your face - bare, as the traditions of your clans. On glint of silver against your throat, dipping down to your breasts.

His helmet tilting as he finds you again.

Knowing what he is thinking, for it is on your mind as well.

You’d managed a quick reunion. Lasting no more than a heartbeat, as you met him at his ship. Fingers tracing against your hip, as your lips pressed against the curve of his helmet. Bunching in the whisper-thin silk of your ceremonial dress.

Not finding what he was looking for. A growl, that was cut short.

All too eager to whisk you away, but even with his unexpected arrival, he hadn’t been able to escape his duty.

You’re too far away to hear the debriefing, but you can imagine your husband’s voice getting shorter. Impatient. Clipped.

That’s what two weeks away from you does to him.

Especially with the messages you sent to his holo, two days prior. Waiting until after the negotiations were done.

Giving him everything except what he wanted. Glimpses of flesh, where the gossamer robe wrapped around you. The soft curve of a breast, the fabric pebbled at shadowed peaks.

Glistening fingertips between plump flesh, swollen with desire.

The last was the only one with a message. A small, thin chip pinched between thumb and forefinger.

He’d know what it was.

Had been there when it was placed in your hip, his hand wrapped in yours as the needle pierced flesh.

Had talked about it often, late a night, a shared wish for the future.

One that has come, now.

Come home soon.

Din had been two days away.

After your message - he had made it in one.

He’s on you the moment the bedchamber door closes. Backing you up against the heavy stone. Gripping at your waist, as your face tips to his.

You’d liked this, when you first got together.

His desire.

How much he wanted to consume you. To take - the weight of his armor pressing into your back, as he drove you into the thin mattress of his bunk.

But that felt like a lifetime ago.

“Let me see you.”

There’s no hesitance in the way he reaches for his helmet, and you can feel the space between your thighs dampen.

His dark eyes blown wide with need, when it lifts off his head. Parted lips as he pants, brow furrowed. The thick curls, begging to be tugged.

But this is what you like more.

The leash he offers so willingly to you. Eager to obey, even as the collar tightens. Following at your heels.

After all, his duty is to his people.

But it’s you that he serves.

He moans against the press of your mouth. Once-clumsy kisses now practiced. Your teeth nipping at his lower lip until he opens willingly. Hips rocking against yours when you lick into his mouth.

Red painted against his mouth, from your painted ones.

It’s been far too long.

You’d never tell him, but you’d been waiting as well.

A sigh slipping from your lungs at the hands that skitter up your waist. Almost pawing at you as he mouths at your throat.

The pulse point beneath your ear.

Knowing better than to leave a mark.

That’s only for you - his skin your canvas.

His lips hovering at the necklace - a silver pendant tucked between your breasts. A soft and reverent kiss against it, as his legs start to bend.

Slowly lowering to his knees, as your thighs make room for him.

His nose ghosting against your belly. Down - tilting to kiss against your hip. Your mound, before he’s moving to inhale you.

“Let me.” It’s rasped out, as his eyes tilt up. Fingers gathering the hem that brushes your ankles, as his knees spread against stone.

“You were good?”

Din groans, his mouth pressing against your core. The silk dampening beneath his tongue, sticking the fabric against your slick folds.

His breath hot, and you have to resist the urge to squirm.

“Fuck,” His fingers inch higher. Stroking against soft skin, “You know I was, cyare.”

Your breath hitches, when his knuckles drag against your slit. Something akin to a whine sliding from his throat when he meets bare skin - his earlier curiosity finally sated.

“How did it feel?”

There’s a ragged huff of a laugh. His other hand dropping down to palm at his crotch. Teeth gritting, hips flexing.

Fingers parting you, letting the tip of his finger nudge at your entrance.

“You shouldn’t have sent those messages.”

Your eyebrow arches, your grin sly, “You didn’t like them?”

He makes another rough sound. A hand fisting on the hem of your skirt again - tugging it up until it’s gathered against your abdomen.

Baring you fully - the part of your thighs, where his palm curves against your core. Tongue dipping across his lip in anticipation.

An effort, in the way his eyes drag back up to your face. Voice rough, the scrape of stone against metal.

“You know what you do to me.”

You clench around his finger. Eager for him, though you’ve learned to school your face - a second mask to the one you wear.

How well your husband listens.

The verbal confirmation sending another hot rush of need. Your own fingers slipping down, past his knuckles. Fitting beneath the dip of his chin, petting between your slick thighs.

The tips coming back shining. His mouth parting automatically, as you slip two fingers against his tongue.

“And see what you do to me?”

His eyes slip shut - groaning, as he sucks. Tongue laving against your skin, thankful for anything you give him. Another shift of his hips, his own hand flexing against you, when you slide your fingers free.

Forefinger and thumb against his chin, leaving a gleam of spit behind, as you guide him where he aches to be.

You can feel the heat of his breath for a heartbeat, before his mouth meets you. The moan breathed out against your skin, tongue flattening against your clit.

Hungry, in the way he devours you. Lapping at the tight bud, while his finger remembers how to move. A second added, as his lips wrap around and suck.

It sends waves of bliss coursing through you. A tremble in your legs, before one hooks over his shoulder. A heel pressed against his armor, urging him closer.

He’s all too willing to obey. Losing himself in your pleasure, soft sounds slipping from his throat as he works you open. As his tongue flicks, again and again.

You can already feel it start to build. He’s always known how to touch you, his eagerness and your own self-restraint only fueling the fire in your belly.

“If only they could see you now,” You breathe out, in wonder. Tugging at the curls at the nape of his neck, but it only makes him moan, “On your knees for me.”

His eyes lift to meet yours. Giving himself to you, his mind focused on only one thing - the taste of you against his tongue.

“What would they think, knowing I keep their Mand’alor in a cage?”

A low oath slips from him. Another flex of his hips, as his fingers curl against a spot that makes you see stars.

Your next words coming as a soft command.

“Show me.”

You mourn the way his fingers slip from you. Gleaming, as they drop to his armor. Loosening the golden belt, removing the ven'cabur beneath. Drawing himself out.

The light catches on the beskar beneath.

Pretty and gleaming. Ornamental in its design, but your family did come from a long line of forgers.

It had been easy, to craft a piece to compliment him. An extension of his armor. A near-constant reminder of your absence.

For that is what it was.

Not to punish him. Din would never stray, you believed that with your whole heart.

Instead, it was to ensure that he did not spill himself needlessly. That every drop of his essence was spent where it belonged - deep inside his wife’s pretty cunt.

A shared idea. A secret.

He had almost been late in leaving, with the amount of time it had taken to lock it around him. The key left with you, along with his heart.

“Pretty,” You coo. Even better up close, you're sure - though you will have to wait.

He hums in agreement. Focused now, tracing your clit with a pattern he knows will make you cum. The hand leaving his armor to knead the flesh of your ass, tilting your pussy to his mouth.

But you can’t resist teasing him, even as your breath grows short. As your tone catches on an edge, needing to hear it.

The toe of your boot shifting just enough to nudge at him.

“Whose pretty cock is that?”

A groan is muffled against your skin. His rhythm knocked off-kilter, as he mumbles his reply.

“Yours, cyare.”

You’re nearly there. The edges of your vision darkens, heart hammering behind your ribs.

“You-,” You start, as your toes curl. As the pressure builds in your belly, threatening to burst, “You want me to take it off?”

Surely he must feel the pressure of the metal. The way his cock strains with desire against the cage, still held back.

“No.” He rasps.

“Not yet.”

The denial makes you come. A cry leaving your lips as you fall apart against his mouth. As he licks at you eagerly - fingers fitting inside you once more, to give you something to clench around. Feeling the tight pulse around them, against the flat of his tongue.

Letting you ride out your orgasm, the pleasure shared. Hips shifting involuntarily, meeting open air.

And only when your back relaxes against the door, does he allow you to lead him to bed.

You leave marks against his skin, as you move down.

His armor removed carefully. Ritualistically, set aside in the padded crate near your shared bed.

Streaks of red from your lips, their outline lightening as it transfers. Neck, chest, abdomen.

Halting at the one piece he still wears.

The metal encircling him, giving you peeks of swollen skin. A jerk of his hips when you trace against his sack, drawn tight with need.

Then, up.

“You’re dripping.” Your fingers trace against the tip, just brushing the flushed skin beneath.

Coming back shining, his eyes fixed on yours as you taste him with your tongue.

“Is it for me?”

His answer comes in a roughened rush.

“Always.”

You hum, lips curling. Pushing yourself up, letting him watch the way you tug the dress from your shoulders. Baring yourself - the soft sways of your breasts, shifting until your hips rest flush with his.

His hands twitching where you pushed them above his head, warning him not to move.

Your name gritted out, a futile warning, when you shift against the cold metal of the cage.

Letting it slide against your clit, slick with your release. With his need, so wholly restrained.

“Please.” It’s bitten out.

Your fingers play with the necklace. His reaction cataloged away, for later. Eyes fixed on his as you slowly dip back down.

“Should make you wait longer,” You muse, “But you listened, didn’t you?”

He has long enough - you can see it in the way his muscles string tight. The need written across his face, as he watches your movement.

“I would wait,” Din husks, “For as long as you wished it.”

The spark flares to life again. A kiss press against the metal, before your necklace touches against it.

A click as the cage unlatches - careful in the way you ease it from him.

His breath comes in a low hiss, when you touch him. The feather-light drag of your nails against sensitive skin, jerking to life beneath your fingertips.

Hardening, now that he was no longer restrained. Two weeks of that tight pressure eased, and it feels like a fresh breath of air.

He tastes like you, when your mouth presses against his. Tongue stroking against yours when you line him up against your entrance, your fingers struggling to wrap around.

Moaning against your mouth, when you finally sink down.

Finally home.

Finally where he needs to be, as you gasp at the intrusion. His fingers opening you up before, but it’s always a stretch.

Leaving behind a delicious burn, one you’ve craved. Hips rocking as you get used to the weight of him inside you, once more. Until that dull ache bleeds away to bliss.

And finally your hips lift - gliding up the full length of him. Clenching around the tip before you drop back down.

One, two.

Hands braced against his chest as you bounce on his cock, as his own curl into fists. Eyes glazed - lips parted as he watches you, his heart pounding beneath your flattened palms.

Three, four.

Stroking a spot deep inside you, one you’d chase if he wasn’t so far gone. His eyes greedy where he watches you take him, the shine of his cock before it’s buried in you.

Five, six.

It’s then that you lean forward. Lips ghosting against his, pulling back before he can chase after.

“Are you going to give me what I want, riduur?” You croon, testing your teeth against his throat.

His pulse spiking - a rough buzz beneath your lips as he exhales a sharp breath.

Seven. Eight. Nine.

Picking up speed, as you nip at his ear.

“Fill me? Get me swollen with you?” A hand ghosting across your belly, as you sigh against him, “Let everyone who you belong to?”

Din growls, but it pitches long. Low, caught in his throat at he shifts beneath you.

“Gedet’ye, ner runi.”

Slipping into his native tongue, as his thoughts loose in his grasp. His begging is a symphony, combined with the slap of your skin against his. With the slick slide of his cock, his panting breath.

“I can’t-," Din husks, "Not going to last.”

Your lips stretch wide with your smile.

“Want you to,” You purr, “Give me what you were made for.”

Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen.

Once again, your husband comes early.

Forgetting himself - his hands coming to grip at the curve of your waist. Denting flesh as he tugs you down, holding you against the rut of his hips as he spills with a muffled shout inside you.

A ragged breath, each time his cock throbs. Wordless moans as two weeks of his desire is spent, filling you until it threatens to spill over.

Until the iron-grip of his fingers relax. Eyes left-heavy lidded. Only tightening when you make to move off him.

Keeping you in place, his cock still notched to the hilt inside you.

“I missed you.” You tell him, fingers tracing his jaw. Against grown-long scruff, flecked with silver.

A kiss pressed against the spot that never fills in all the way. More peppered across his cheek, until his breathing slows.

“Missed you.” It’s huffed out. The flash of teeth, as he draws your mouth to his.

Still hungry, even after all this time. Barely sated, even as he fills you.

“Did you-?” It’s murmured against your lips, when you break to breathe, “You meant it?”

Your eyes are soft, when you grab his hand to your hip. The still-tender spot, letting his thumb press against soft skin.

He groans, low and throaty. Flipping you beneath him, as his eyes drag down your form - as if you have changed, already.

As if it’s already taken, as your thighs widen to make room for him. Letting him slip from you, but his fingers are already there.

Sliding against slick skin. Gathering himself up - where he’s leaked from you. Fucking it back inside, working himself deeper.

Stroking against that spot, as his lips slot against yours.

He’ll make you come again.

Again, and again, if that’s what it takes.

Your husband was always good at giving you what you want.

thank you so much for reading! excited to start this year off like the last - domming our fave old men. 💖

mando'a translations:

cyare - beloved riduur - spouse ven'cabur - codpiece ner runi - my soul gedet’ye - please

[formylovetodaryldixon]

"One of these days." Daryl Dixon Imagine.

For you and your husband, trying to find the right time to have a little fun is not always so easy.

A/N: Just a imagine that made me smile while I was writing it hehe, so I hope you guys enjoy it a bit too. Thanks! (with a small appearance of Denise fearing Daryl XD) (Not my gif!)

Daryl lifts you up for you to sit in the counter of the living room, his lips crashing against yours in a hard kiss as his hands pulls you close to him by the waist, the heat of your bodies getting mixed with the sole idea of ​​feeling each other after almost two weeks apart.

The last search for supplies had taken longer than usual, and between his arrival and your days and sleepless nights in the infirmary accompanying some sick people with Denise, the bed in your home had only recognized one lonely body.

Now, your hands tangle in his hair kissing him back, his tongue playing with yours, getting from your husband a low growl when your legs pull him close, feeling the bulge in his pants against you. Taking a ragged breath before sinking back into your skin, Daryl takes your black t-shirt off and his hands caress your soft skin as he kisses your neck, missing the contact with it; and too excited to waste time because he has to leave again soon. But your mind clouds with desire like a foggy morning, so you push his vest out of his body and start unbuttoning his shirt while Daryl kisses the skin between your breasts, making you moan.

“Do we really have time to do this?” You try to be reasonable, but your hands are still holding onto the buckle of his pants.

“Yeah…” He said, in a low, deep voice, but Daryl couldn't care less if he is late as he starts to unbutton your jeans. “Let me get ya ready.”

There was something extremely hot when he did that, like being in a beautiful hell in the way Daryl always ate you up first, like it was his duty, and his words make you lick your dry lip, feeling his on your belly that contracts with the heat of his tongue.

But when he is about to pull your jeans down, someone knocks the door, insistently.

“Shit…” He growls in frustration, getting up.

“Coming!” You get off the counter, putting your t-shirt back while he does the same with his shirt.

You start fixing your jeans as you walk toward the door to open it, feeling your cheeks red and hot while you smile at Denise.

“Hey, Denise.”

“Hey, (Y/N).” She smiles back. “Is Daryl home? I hope he hasn’t left yet.”

You nod, clearing your throat in fear that your voice will crack.

“He’s getting ready. Something happened?”

“No, no…” She moves her hand in the air, pulling a paper of her jean pocket next. “I forgot to write some things on the list I gave him yesterday.”

Behind you, the door opens and Daryl walks out, dressed and with his crossbow and his backpack around his body. He looks normal, his hair is kind of messy, but it usually is so nobody could tell the difference.

“Oh, hey…” Denise smiles at him, and he nods once at her while taking the paper, his personality usually becoming silent with people he didn't feel comfortable with yet. “I just wanted to give you this. Sorry to bother you.”

“No. It’s okay…” You say and look at your husband. “Daryl has to go now. Right, love?”

Daryl looks back at you, frustrated for your interrupted play time.

“Yeah. I better go.” He kisses your temple and looks at Denise. “Bye.”

He goes down the steps of the porch, walking away.

“Remember to keep it cool.” You chuckle, referring to his erection that would take time to get down. “And please be careful.”

Looking over his shoulder, Daryl waves his hand in the air, because that is his special way of telling you that he will be careful.

Life within the walls of Alexandria moved slowly, calmly like a sleeping river instead of feeling like wild waves, giving you and the family you made when that new world arose, a sense of peace after having been wandering out there for so long, dangerously all the time. Fortunately, life there was kind of peaceful, and that had stopped the chaos in your worlds and the fear that some members of the family sometimes fell into. But that night, as you return home from work, you can allow yourself the luxury of admiring the bright moon that shines and illuminates your path, as a sign that for that moment at least, the darkness of the world is no longer as terrifying as it used to be.

“Were you married to Daryl before all this, (Y/N)? Or did you meet him when all this madness started?”

Denise is reserved and shy, but there is also a sweetness in her that is still preserved, intact, like a living proof that there were still good people in the world.

“We actually met like two years before all this.” The memory makes you smile at her, a latent feeling awakening in your heart with some shyness. “We had been married for a few months when the dead started to rise.”

Denise nods, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose.

“Daryl is… intimidating…” She chuckles nervously, but there is something in your soft laugh that encourages her to continue. “But in this time that you two have been living here I have noticed the way he looks at you, or how Daryl looks for you with his eyes in a room full of people, at community meetings for example. But he is not very talkative, is he?”

You laugh again, a little longer this time as you see your husband sitting on the porch steps a few houses away.

"Daryl is quiet, very reserved, and has a hard time letting people into his life, but when he feels like he can trust people, you can tell that Daryl cares a lot about them."

“And he was the same with you?”

You think about that, remembering that when he saw that he could trust you, Daryl became open to showing his own vulnerabilities, only with you, so it was easier to fall for him. Plus, he was and is still hot as hell.

“Something like that...” You nod softly. “Trust me, a couple of times I was close to throwing something at his head for being so stubborn and surly, but Daryl has a good heart. Just give him time to get used to this life, okay?”

Denise nods again, falling silent as you both finally stop at your house, with her waving at him and receiving a nod in response.

“Have a good night.” Her gaze meets yours, and you smile at her before she walks away to her own home.

And when Denisse is away, you chuckle as you walk over to the porch to sit next to Daryl.

“What’s so damn funny?”

“She’s terrified of you.” You chuckle even more as his brow furrows, his gaze on yours. “You scared the poor woman.”

Confused, Daryl watches the path Denisse took, for a few seconds before looking back at you.

“Did I do somethin' wrong?”

“No. It’s just that you’re so quiet that she feels kind of shy. But you could try talking to her a little, don’t you think?”

Even more confused, Daryl's gaze takes in an empty spot beside you, the white picket fence before looking back at you.

"What should I say?"

You shrug.

"I don't know. Maybe say something more than just a hey." When your hand makes contact with his cheek, Daryl leans into your touch. "Maybe show her that you are a sweetheart."

He scoffs.

"I ain't a sweetheart."

You chuckle.

“What are you talking about? You are a sweetheart with me.”

"Yeah, but jus’ ‘cause I love ya."

His words make you smile as you both lean into each other's lips. After Daryl let you in, you realized he had a lot to offer as a person with a good and brave heart. He was always a good company: he made you feel protected, in the old world too and even when you could protect yourself, but above all, it was damn cute to see him get embarrassed when you teased him, always masking his blush with a snort.

But when things got hot, like now, Daryl could be even hotter as you feel his hands on your waist, searching for the warmth of your skin under your t-shirt until he found it, sliding his calloused fingers over your flesh, sinking you into a new kind of desire. His touch is a silent plea for you to climb his lap, and you do, his hands holding you against him as his mouth takes yours in a hot kiss. Daryl chokes a grunt in your mouth, but you can feel his erection and he pushes your body down, dying to be inside you.

“Let’s do it here.” He says against your mouth. “S’dark and everyone is sleepin’.”

“Wow. That’s kinky.” You chuckle, your hands searching for his belt as he kisses your neck. But since life has a sense of humor, you can see the light of the living room turn on through the window, seeing Carol coming closer to the door. “Wait…”

Daryl growls in frustration, again when you get off his lap, but he learns forward a little bit to hide the bulge on his pants when Carol opens the door of the house you all share.

“Hey, guys, I thought you two were sleeping…” She says, smiling affectionately at you two. “I was looking for some water and I saw the kitchen light was already on, but… did I interrupt something?”

“No.” Daryl says looking over his shoulder, in a low, hoarse voice.

She looks at you, but you only smile shaking your head.

“Okay, then. Goodnight.” Carol waves her hand before closing the door again.

You wave her back, your own body falling against the railing.

“And… strike two.” You chuckle when Daryl lay down on the floor, covering his eyes with his arm.

That night, you may have used the shadows and darkness of your room to make love, but it still felt weird about doing it knowing that you and Daryl lived with Carol and Tara, even though you were a married couple, but at the same time, the thought made you laugh: because it felt wrong like the first time Daryl climbed through your bedroom window when you two were dating, before the world went to hell, because that night, everything became adult content.

The next morning, the day started early with you organizing the new medications that had been found during the last supply run, alone in the infirmary, accompanied by a comfortable silence as Denise took a day to explore her new relationship with Tara. And it was nice to think about that, in the mounting nerves that came with finding out things about the other person, the way you looked at her or him, the smiles and the shy laughs, the way your world suddenly seemed to fit together perfectly with them.

But when a knock on the door brings you out of your thoughts, you're surprised to see Daryl on the other side when you open it.

"What are you doing here, sir?"

"What? I can't visit ma wife at work?" He walks in, looking around as you close the door again. You walk back to the desk, stopping in front of the last few medicine bottles in the center. "On ma way here I saw Denise."

"You talked?"

Daryl, who was still walking around the room, stops, frowning in confusion.

"I'm not mute, woman."

You laugh.

"I didn't mean it like that, I meant that since we got here you haven't said more than one word to her."

Daryl mutters something under his breath, turning his attention back to the place as you continue reading the open book at your side. He spends like a minute or two in silence, reading the medicine descriptions from the shelves or touching the medical instruments, at least until you feel his body against you from behind, his hands on your waist as Daryl breathes in the smell of apples in your hair, thanks to the bottle of shampoo that came with the house.

Your tied hair gives him the freedom to kiss your exposed neck, and your belly flexes at the touch of his hands.

"I knew you came to see me for other reasons."

Daryl chuckles, and you breathe in, feeling the tingling between your legs.

“I've missed ya, I've missed the warmth of yer body.” His voice is always low, but it gets sexier when you feel that he’s that happy to see you. ““And we haven’t done it in weeks.”

You gulp, feeling his hand slipping down on the skin from your belly under your t-shirt, and your palms pressed against the wood when his hand gets lost under your jeans.

“Yeah, but–uh…” You gasp through your parted lips when Daryl rubs his fingers against your folds, over your underwear just to tease you.

“(Y/N)?”

But that is not his voice. Daryl removes his hand, cursing under his breath when you two see a person standing from the other side of the blur glass of the door. You sigh in frustration, but you chuckle too while walking towards it to opening. Rosita is smiling when your eyes meet, and you let her walk in.

“Hi, Daryl.” She says.

“Hey…” Daryl says back, leaning over the desk.

“Sorry to bother you, (Y/N), but I need something stronger than an aspirin. Abraham fell on his butt during the run and he keeps complaining.” She rolls her eyes. “Do you have something?”

You nod.

“Yes, of course.” You walk toward the shelf on the wall behind Daryl, smiling to yourself as he tries to hide his erection. You take two painkillers from a bottle and go back to Rosita. “If a man as big as he complains of pain it must be serious.”

“No. He’s just a big baby.” She smiles at you and Daryl, waving her hand before walking out. “Thank you. Bye.”

And she leaves, closing the door behind her. But when you turn, and to your surprise, Daryl doesn’t seem to be so frustrated as you think he would be.

“Whatever is going through your mind…” You chuckle. “It scares me.”

“I got an idea.” He smirks. “And this time ya ain’t escapin' from me, so finish quickly whatever ya're doin’ here.”

You narrow your eyes for a moment, giving him a confused look before finishing your chores.

But what is to come (pun intended) is about to come hard.

There, alone with him, your head falls back against the thin mattress inside the last cellblock, the view of the white ceiling disappearing when you close your eyes, and your mouth opens with a hot moan when Daryl makes you cum. Your grip on his hair loses strength as he gets up from between your legs to kneel, his hand replacing his tongue you to help you ride your orgasm. You let the air of your body go, finally going down from that high ecstasy after a moment as Daryl climbs over your body to be on top of you, shirtless, with his pants hanging now from his waist.

“That was just an extra.” He smiles sideways, part of his long hair covering part of his face, while your chest goes up and down with each breath.

“Yeah… I noticed it.”

Daryl chuckles getting up, but his smile falls when you two hear someone opening the front door of the basement.

“Stay here.” He says, fixing his pant as you put on your t-shirt that covers your thighs.

Daryl walks out of there, putting on his shirt as you put your jeans back on. Counting the few minutes in silence as you wait, he comes back frowning.

“Oh, no.” You chuckle. “What happened?”

“He jus’ came to read.” Daryl says, his voice full of sarcasm, lifting up his hands to mock of that person. “Yeah, right… I’m sure he jus’ wanted to jerk off in private.”

You laugh, falling on the mattress, laying down sideways to look at him.

“Who?”

“Eugene.” Daryl growls, pushing his hand through his hair. “Fuck…”

You keep looking at him: he’s frustrated even after making love, but Daryl looks so funny complaining for something so little.

“Come here.” You say opening your arms for him. “Come.”

Daryl exhales, his expression softening, and he walks towards you as you lay down on your back with him on top of you now, holding his face to kiss him softly before pulling apart to look into his blue eyes.

“Calm down, tiger: everything is fine.”

“Yeah… now it is.” He whispers with his lips an inch from yours, his deep gaze on yours. "But ya know what I was thinkin’?"

"What?"

"That s’bout time we got a fuckin’ house of our own, 'cause I'm tired of havin’ to sneak away to make love to ma wife."

You chuckle at his words, but they make you smile, too.

“I think that’s a very good idea, love.”

@fluffy-dixon

[iamstillovingyou]

Under the cherry blossom

Kang Dae-ho x reader fluff, comfort Summary: Realizing how important Dae-ho has been to you throughout the games and providing comfort to each other Warnings: PTSD, panic attack, anxiety etc. spoilers for squid game s2

hey guys, this is my first ever try at writing something on here, so please be kind! I can't stop thinking about Dae-ho from Squid Game and my daydreams gave me this idea, so I thought it might be good to write about it. I incorporated some of the events from s2 as well as the ending, inserting reader as part of the group with Dae-ho. I used 'you' throughout the whole fic. Hope you enjoy it! Word count: 1k As the lights went out and everyone retired to their beds with just a few voices chattering away or snoring around the hall, your anxiety started spiking up. You had tried to keep your cool during the games, but one harrowing experience after another left you disturbed. Thinking about the most recent game 'Mingle' left your mind in a whirl. You were wondering how you managed to survive every single round of it. The fact that you were a part of a group of people who became your friends and protectors definitely helped you stay alive so long. But, one particular person you kept thinking of was Dae-ho, who kept close to you throughout the whole game. As soon as they'd announce the number, Dae-ho would grab your hand and run for your lives, hoping to secure the number of people and a room. In the last round, as you were considering the possibility of the number two being announced, you felt a tight grip on arm and turned back to look Dae-ho in the eyes. He gave you a nod of reassurance. You held on to him for dear life. Now that you were alive for the ordeal of the next game, your mind focused on Dae-ho. Ever since you joined their group, he was always looking out for you, making sure you're okay and making little jokes to ensure you keep your mind off the horrifying reality that any of you might not be there the next day. You had got used to him and found his presence soothing and his concern for you during the last game intrigued you.

You started worrying about the next game and felt an oncoming panic attack. You had to talk to someone. You turned your head to the right, to the bed where Dae-ho was sleeping. Hesitatingly, you whispered into the darkness: 'Dae-ho', not hoping for answer. After just a second you heard a quiet 'Yes?' 'Dae-ho, are you sleeping?' Then followed silence. You had almost started regretting calling out his name, especially as you didn't like asking for help. But your thoughts were interrupted by Dae-ho shuffling from his bed and kneeling next to yours. 'Are you okay? Is something wrong?' You tried to make out his face in the faint light, his eyes only two dots shining. 'Dae-ho, I'm scared' you blurted out. You had been scared since the beginning, but managed to keep fear at bay. Now it overwhelmed you completely. Dae-ho kept his voice low 'I know. This place is a nightmare, but we are strong, right?, he said as he took your hand in his, 'We've made it so far, we just have to stick together, okay?'. As he said this he sat down on the side of your bed, taking your hand in his. You sat up, feeling the warmth of his hand. You nodded, but tears started swelling in your eyes. 'Dae-ho, what if we do not make it out of here?' you asked as a hot tear rolled down your cheek, you trying to hold in the sobs bubbling in your throat. 'Remember the bridge you were telling me about? With the cherry blossoms and the pond? How magical it is in the springtime?' You nodded. 'Well, picture it. Imagine us there, walking over it on a sunny day, the breeze blowing the petals softly around us. We're safe and happy. You'll take me there when we get out of here, right?', he flashed his charming smile, wiping away the tear from your cheek. You let out a quiet chuckle, trying not to burst out crying. You had told him about your hometown and how you loved that spot in the springtime and how you longed to see it again. He had listened. 'I promise' you whispered as he kissed your hand. 'Now try to get some sleep, we need to be ready for whatever is coming tomorrow', he said and retreated to his bed.

The next day brought its own challenges. Gi-hun's knowledge of the system had helped your group stay alive thus far. His next proposal was to organize an attack on the guards and their leader. You knew it was a great risk and tried to hide your concern for Dae-ho who was determined to be a part of it. He kept glancing at you as they were making the plan. He knew the danger he was exposing himself to, but he was ready to do anything to make sure you two to walk out of there alive. Before they headed out the door, you ran up to him. 'Dae-ho!' He turned to look at you with his soft gaze, his lips thinning into a line. You took a deep breath. 'I'll be waiting for you", you said and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

... All you could hear were shots being fired. You had just managed to calm yourself a bit, when you saw Dae-ho entering through the door, your face lighting up at the relief. He was back. You ran up to him, smiling on the verge of tears. He looked terrified and went straight to the dead guards on the floor fumbling around in their pockets taking the ammo. You tried talking to him but he wasn't responding, focused on collecting all the charges. You noticed what he was doing and helped him, piling them up in a bundle in the green hoodie. 'Stay here' he said and ran out the door. Confused, you went back to the beds, praying everything was going to turn out alright. Several minutes later, you saw Dae-ho reentering and hiding himself away in one of the beds, holding his palms over his ears, visibly shaking. A second later, player 120 came after him, you could see them talking about something. You ran up to them and found out what had happened. As you put your arms around Dae-ho and he laid his head against your chest, new guards entered and started shooting at the ceiling. 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry', he kept repeating. You held him tightly, bracing yourself for whatever was coming next. 'Remember the cherry blossoms, we're safe and happy'.

[hyukascampfire]

U JUMPED UP N CLICKED YOUR HEELS WHEN I FOLLOWED, I JUMPED UP AND CLICKED MY HEELS WHEN I SAW THIS REBLOG. omg.

hehe. world building is my favorite part. especially since my fics lean toward fantasy,, i always try to make it all immersive and believable!!

literally was not aware there was even a plural for geas, i had to dance around it while writing. why didn’t i think to look that up…😓 ANYWAY YES taehyun is definitely gravitational right off the bat. for me, at least. he is stiff and cold, but i don’t think that he necessarily falls into the typical fantasy brooding mmc category. especially after part two, i think his character begins to develop those layers that makes him who he is. i can’t say that he’s not brooding or cold, but i think it comes from a different place. i absolutely agree that he really does embody cold. not going to lie, after working on his character for so long, he’s the first thing i associate with him.

AND YES yeonjun as warmth by sunlight is so correct. he’s not necessarily flames, but more like sunlight on your skin after being cold for so long. he’s so gentle with MC in a way that she hasn’t known,, i’d be the same girl. IM SO HAPPY TO SEE SOMEONE ROOTING FOR YEONJUN JUST A LITTLE BIT. not because i’m biased,, cause of course i have two hands,, BUT ITS JUST BEEN SO LONG. this nation is gripped by taehyun. he always destroys yeonjun in the polls 😭

W yeonjun, writing him came so easy. i still vividly remember the moment i wrote the introduction to his character. omg. he just had a personality that STICKJKJS with you. he is magnetic, and i lowkey feel whimsy even while writing him. he’s just so sensual and intimate on so many different levels. i’d probably give up my mf life for him too.

i also really do adore MC. she’s very multi-faceted. she’s not necessarily always strong or upright, but she has her own set of morals and honestly just wants so little. it kinda sucks that what she does finally allow herself to ask for puts her in the situations it does. i feel a great amount of sympathy for her. i also am a person that thinks that emotion and being in touch with it is strong in its own right, and i absolutely get MC for searching for it.

SLOW BURNNN that’s my shit. waiter, pls give me yearning and fleeting touch for a hundred thousand more words! im not stranger to a 5k pwp and i thoroughly enjoy writing those (yum.) but i truly do love the word ‘almost’, and letting characters ache for each other. mmm. i’m a hoe for jealousy, but with taehyun it is especially different. i just do not know how to put it into words except for 😻💦🤲

the people love beomgyu, that silly forest creature. i’ve grown so attached to his character as well. he really is holding up the found family end of this fic all on his own. his power 😭

thank you so much for giving me this beautiful rb to read and giggle over as well. i adore you so much NEXT PART NEXT PART 🍽️

𝓘N WHICH 〃 a life lived as a human among the fae is one hard-earned. the folk are built of indescribable beauty, and of debauchery and mischief. for some, a life lived subservient to the folk is just fine; but to those who dream of something more, they would spend their lives clawing and biting to make it happen.

you, looking for a way to escape a life as a faerie’s human servant, put a new foot forward thinking that any life could be better than that. but, when your first assignment as a king’s spy is alongside a brooding, icy faerie man, you begin to wonder what your place in this foreign world really could be.

wc ➳ 93.3k﹙ and counting! ﹚

genre high fantasy/faerie, smut, angst ˒ ˒

pairings faerie!taehyun x reader, faerie!yeonjun x reader

warnings violence, death, death of animals, smut (specific tags will be listed before each chapter), childhood trauma & mentions of abuse, jealousy, controlling & yandere relationship dynamics, unprotected sex, original characters but they only last for small amounts of time & act as story catalysts, fem! reader

˒ ˒ want a look into the world? here’s the pinterest board !! ༘⋆

﹙ 🪕﹚ playlists ⑊ yeonjun ˒ taehyun ˒ series

: ̗̀﹙❆﹚𝓅arts . : ↘︎

one ˒ two ˒ three ˒ four ˒ five ˒ ...🪶

© hyukascampfire please do not steal, plagiarize, or repost any of my works.

[dollfacefantasy]

How’d you think frank would react to reader in subspace! You’re literally one of the only people writing for frank and your writing is so so brilliant!🙂‍↕️

frank castle x fem!reader cw: mdni (18+), smut at the beginning but after that it's just fluff, brief daddy kink a/n: thank you so much angel <33 i gotta keep my fellow frank freaks fed 😤

frank knows you're dropping from the broken whine you let out and the way your hands become grabby, pulling at his shoulders to try and get him as close as physically possible. you always get that way when you start to sink.

he has you on your back beneath his muscular frame, your knees hooked over his shoulders while his cock batters your pussy. his pelvis slams against your center over and over in rough thrusts. he's just pounding you in search of his release.

you'd already cum twice. once on his tongue and once on his cock. the static of overstimulation chipped away at your sensibilities and made you vulnerable. it left you needing him. depending on him.

"just one more for me, baby. c'mon. i know you got it in you," he grunts as his eyes flutter.

"mmm... frankie," you whine. your glossy eyes search to connect with him amidst the haze of lust surrounding you. you babble out the next word while blinking slowly. "daddy..."

he groans at the slurred quality of it. "i'm right here, sweetheart. just gotta cum for me. squeeze me nice and tight."

in this state of mind, defiance isn't an option. you feel your belly starting to flutter along with your legs beginning to flex. the orgasmic spool inside you unravels as though his words work as a direct physical command.

you cry out and arch your back. your arms loop around his neck to cling to him like you're at risk of losing him. your teeth dig into your bottom lip as more choked, pitiful sounds explode out of you. he can feel tears leak from your eyes against his shoulder. you're so close to his ear that he can hear the soft sniffles.

"that's my baby. that's my girl. my good fuckin' girl. so fuckin' good for me, fuck," he grumbles against your skin, his own words trailing off and becoming incoherent.

he presses down on you harder to the point that you're completely squished against the mattress under his weight. his cock is so deep inside you that it'd probably hurt if you were more lucid.

most of the time, he was more gentle with you. everywhere but the bedroom, he treated you as though you were a tiny doll made of glass. when he was close like this though, on the brink draining his balls inside you, being careful felt like something only possible in dreams.

he crashes over the edge hard, growling against your neck and clutching the sheets. his breath comes out in ragged pants as pure euphoria washes through him. you let out tiny squeaks below him, but they're not of much concern right now.

it's after the blissful fog settles that he tends to you.

he rolls off of you once he's almost all the way down. his back hits the bed, and cool air flows between both of your bodies. you lie there for a few moments as if you're dead. if not for the quick rise and fall of your chest, that's what someone may think. your eyes stare at the ceiling, blank and unthinking. tears trail down your temples.

after a few seconds, you start to turn onto your side. you curl up, pupils still cloudy and face void of any specific emotion. in these brief eclipses after sex and before totally settling down, your mind gets stuck in a weird limbo. all you can think about is him. you want him holding you, touching you, taking care of you. but you can't ask for it. can't verbalize the desire for any of that. in the beginning stages of your relationship, he thought you were trying to forget he was beside you.

but now he knows better.

he places a hand on the divot in your waist and pulls you back to him, not letting you draw in on yourself. his nose brushes behind your ear while his lips plant soft kisses on your throat.

"no hiding from me, babydoll. you did so good," he whispers. his hand caress your warm skin, trying to reel you back to him.

you still don't have any words, but your muscles relax for him in an instant. he can feel it under his fingers.

"that's right. i got you, daddy's got you," he mumbles, "let's get you cleaned up."

he rises to his feet on his side of your bed and drags your limp body across it so he can hoist you up into his arms. in your more playful moments, he might throw you over his shoulder, tease you about how he used to have to carry guys like this when he was in the marines. but you're not giggling or squirming right now, so he doesn't.

he scoops you up like a bride and walks over to the bathroom in your apartment. that's when you start coming back a little. you nuzzle at his chest, your warm breath fanning across his muscle.

"there she is," he mumbles.

inside the bathroom, he sits you on the countertop. you lean back against the mirror while he goes to turn on the shower. the surface is cool on your skin. your eyes flutter shut as you relax a bit more.

only seconds later, he's back in front of you. he stands between your thighs and cups your face in one large hand. as quickly as they shut, your eyes pop back open to look at him.

"how're you feeling, pretty girl?" he asks, voice quiet and rough.

you nod in response as if it's a yes or no question. pushing off the mirror, you drape your arms around his shoulders again and press your face to his skin.

"'m ok," you sigh, "just a little sleepy."

"yeah, you are," he says with the hint of a smile gracing his features, "you can knock out as soon as we're done, ok? just let me take care of you."

again, you nod. you never had any objections to handing control over to frank. he lifts you from the counter again and walks into the shower with you.

the hot water streams down onto your bodies below. it trickles from his skin to yours, relaxing both of your muscles. you shut your eyes and keep your head on his shoulder. his fingers twirl in small patterns on your back as he sets you down. the tile is cold on the soles of your feet. you still have to lean against him for balance.

vaguely, you feel his hands running over your body. they’re slippery, slicked up with your sweet-smelling body wash. you swear you hear his deep voice humming, vibrating in his chest beneath your ear, but it could be your imagination.

in total, it feels like the shower is only seconds long. you know you’ve been in there for longer, you felt him run through your whole routine. but time melts away in your mind when you're in this state.

as soon as you’ve acclimated to the smooth surface underfoot, he’s guiding you off of it and onto the cushioned mat outside the shower. you stand there, managing a few lazy blinks.

he laughs softly at that. “few more minutes, sleepy girl.”

with an old towel from the rack, he dries you off. he’s quick but thorough, getting every last little bead of water off of you without being tedious about it.

he scoops you back up after that. your arms and legs latch around him, holding on as he carries you to the bedroom and plops you down on the bed.

“time for sleep?” you yawn, stretching your limbs a bit.

"nice try but you gotta put on some clothes, baby. don't want you catching a cold," he says before heading over to the dresser and grabbing a top for you along with some panties.

"that's not how it works, y'know," you correct while lazily watching him return to you. he tosses the scraps of fabric next to your body on the mattress.

"oh you're a doctor now, huh?" he mutters before tapping your ankle, "put your legs up."

you do as he says without complaint, lifting your legs high into the air so he can pull your panties over them.

"i'm just saying, i wouldn't get sick from sleeping naked," you yawn.

shaking his head, he grabs one of your outstretched arms to pull you up right. despite regaining your ability to speak, you still looked at him with that same dreamy smile you got when you were blissed out.

he tugs the sweatshirt over your head. it was one of his, one of the newer, softer ones you'd bought for him. he'd owned it just long enough and worn it the right amount of times needed for it to smell like him.

"there you go," he says softly and pulls you to his chest for a few seconds. he just feels you in his arms for a moment, pressed against him, safe and sound. as much as you loved being babied, part of the reason he took care of you was for himself too.

he kisses your forehead and then lets you lie down.

"you get comfy, babydoll. i'm gonna put some clothes on, and then i'll be right back," he says before departing to tend to himself for a few minutes.

when he does come back, he's surprised you haven't passed out already. instead, you're tucked under the blankets and curled up to a pillow, waiting for him. you reach out with another grabby hand to signal your desire for him.

"i'm coming," he mutters as he rolls onto the mattress beside you and loops his muscular arm behind your head.

you nuzzle right up to his chest, draping your own limbs over his body. he feels your lips lay a small kiss on his chest.

"get some sleep, baby. don't want you to be all cranky in the morning," he murmurs and shifts a little to engulf you with his frame.

"you're the one who gets cranky..." you reply. but you follow along anyways and shut your eyes. his body heat combined with your soft bedding has you drifting off in no time.

[istoleyoursphenoidbone]

Danny in the Bathroom

DPxDC

I wanted to try and get back into writing (havent in like a good 5 years), so this might be horrible. But inspired by the song "Michael in the Bathroom" from Be More Chill.

The music and chatter from the party outside pulsed through the door like a heartbeat, distant and muffled. Danny Fenton leaned against the bathroom sink, his hands gripping the cold porcelain edge. His reflection in the mirror stared back, pale and tired, framed by messy black hair and the faint glow of his ghostly aura that refused to fade completely. He couldn’t blame it; even his human half wanted to disappear. He turned the faucet on, letting the water run for no reason other than to give himself a task. It masked the noise outside, made him feel just a little more alone—but not in a bad way. Not in the way the rest of the party had.

He had come here with Jason. Jason Todd, the guy who somehow managed to make him feel grounded in a way no one else ever had. They weren't even officially together, but they'd found some weird balance of trust and shared darkness that felt enough. Or, at least, it used to. Danny had thought this would be one of those rare nights when things felt normal. A party, some laughs, maybe a moment where it was just the two of them sitting outside, away from the noise, watching the stars like they always did. Instead, Jason had vanished into the crowd of people who seemed to orbit around him effortlessly.

"I should’ve stayed home," Danny muttered, running a wet hand through his hair. "Could’ve binge-watched something dumb. Or, you know, not gotten up at all." The faucet dripped. A drunk voice outside slurred through a Whitney Houston song, loud and off-key, and it almost made him laugh. Almost. Instead, it made his chest ache. He used to joke about stuff like that with Tucker and Sam. Now it was just him, Danny—in the bathroom, his phone clutched in one hand as he tried to summon the courage to text Jason.

"Hey, you okay?” he typed, then deleted. “You ditched me. Cool, I’ll just head out.” That went, too. He leaned back against the sink, closing his eyes, letting himself feel the weight of the night press down. The memories of Jason’s grin earlier, the way his voice had sounded when he said, "This'll be fun, trust me," felt like salt in the wound now. Danny had trusted him. He wanted to believe Jason hadn’t forgotten about him, but the silence in his messages was louder than the music outside.

The door suddenly creaked open a crack, and Danny tensed. "Occupied," he called out, his voice sharper than he intended. But instead of retreating, Jason’s head peeked through the gap. His hair was messy, cheeks slightly flushed—not from alcohol, Danny knew, but from whatever chaos he'd just left behind.

"Hey," Jason said, a little breathless. His blue eyes darted over Danny, taking in the slouched posture, the furrowed brows. "I've been looking for you." Danny crossed his arms. "Yeah? You looked really hard." Jason winced, stepping fully inside and shutting the door behind him. "I got... caught up. I didn't mean to leave you hanging." Danny looked away, focusing on the faucet again. "Sure. It’s fine. I’m fine."

Jason stepped closer, the tension in the small room rising. "You're not," he said softly. "And that’s on me. I’m sorry." Danny sighed, finally meeting his gaze. Jason looked earnest, and Danny hated how much he wanted to forgive him just for that.

“I’m not mad," Danny admitted. "I just... don’t do this kind of thing. I’m not you. I don’t know how to be in a room full of people and not feel like I’m invisible—or worse, like I’m not supposed to be there." Jason frowned, then moved to sit on the closed toilet lid. "You think I don’t feel that way? Half the time I’m in a crowd, I feel like a ghost.”

The irony wasn’t lost on either of them, and for the first time that night, Danny let himself smile—just barely. “I’m serious,” Jason continued. “I don’t know how to do this stuff either. But you? You being here? That’s the only thing that made me want to show up in the first place.” Danny blinked, caught off guard. He let the words hang between them for a moment before he pushed off the sink, sitting down on the tiled floor across from Jason. “So,” Danny said, “you’re saying we’re both disasters?” Jason grinned, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “Exactly. But at least we’re disasters together.” And suddenly, the noise of the party outside didn’t seem so loud anymore.

[fandom-go-round]

Hello! If you're still taking requests, I'd really appreciate it if you could please write some headcanons about Emmrich, Lucanis, Neve and Bellara dating a Rook who has pretty significant burn scars, particularly on their back, stomach, legs, arms, hands or feet. The scars are healed now, but they still consider them unsightly so they try to cover up as much as possible. I'd love to see your take on their reaction to Rook's scars being revealed to them for the first time.

Burn scars also come with a lot of complications like having to keep them out of sunlight, they often get pretty itchy and since skin regulates body temperature you can get cold super easily if you have significant burns. So if you want to include any of those factors feel free!

As someone who legit cannot be trusted around hot liquids and has scars from 2nd degree burns, I'd appreciate it, but if you don't want to write something like this I understand. Thank you, and I hope your day is going well!

Thank you so much for a Dragon Age request! I had a lot of fun with it!

Warnings: Burns, Talk of Burns, Previous Injuries, Implied Low Self Esteem, Implied Body Issues

Emmrich Volkarin:

As someone who usually wears layers when out and about, Emmrich doesn’t notice right away you’re covered almost always. He thinks of it as a personal style, at least until you’re exposed to the cold. It only takes one instance of fighting a desire demon and your hands to shake so bad you can’t hold your weapon for him to wonder. He won’t ask you of course, especially when Harding asks if you’re alright and you deflect.

The first time he sees your burns himself, Emmrich has a lot of thoughts. He can tell that you’re uncomfortable, not meeting his eyes as you continue to make dinner. It’s the first time he’s seen you in short sleeves and without gloves; you had thought you were alone at the Lighthouse. He wonders where you got the wounds and how but instead, he apologizes for starling you and asks if he can help. You agree to let him help and it takes almost a full hour for the tension to leave your shoulders. Emmrich is happy to wait as long as possible for you to trust him.

The longer the two of you are together, the more you open up about your scars. Emmrich is willing to listen to anything you say and go at your own pace. He’ll go out of his way to buy you embroidered gloves that you adore and has no issues steering the others away from the topic. He’ll hesitate to touch your scars because he doesn’t want to hurt you but once you assure he can touch, he loves kissing your everywhere. Scars are a part of you but they don’t define you.

Lucanis Dellamorte:

He’s one of the first companions to notice, mostly because he has some burns himself. Not as wide spread as yours but Crow training wasn’t kind to him and he sees the way you favor warm over cold and how your legs get itchy after being in Rivani. Lucanis makes sure to cook warm meals and uses ingredients that help with itchiness. He’s a silent supporter from the beginning.

The extent of your scars makes hm angry. He has no way of knowing (at first) where your scars come from and assumes them to be a battle gone wrong. Spite often speaks of hunting the people down who hurt you and he’s inclined to agree. If he finds out the burns are because of an accident he’s going to hover more. If you’re this accident prone he’ll be your silent shadow so you don’t get hurt again. Tell him off if he hovers too much; Lucanis will find something else to help with.

He has no issues touching your scars but will make sure you’re alright with it first. He never wants to make you uncomfortable and watches for your verbal and nonverbal ques. Lucanis will do whatever he can to help you feel better; putting on ointment, buying you new clothing, whatever you’d like. He won’t let anyone talk down to you. He’s protective on a good day and if someone tries to say anything about your scars? His knife is already at their throat.

Bellara Lutare:

Bellara doesn’t realize you have burn scars until you take your coat off, wet from being slammed into the lake. It took her and Davrin combined to pull you out and you’re swearing up a storm as you strip. Davrin just teases you about losing your footing before going to find firewood. Bellara doesn’t catch herself staring until you turn away and she busies getting the camping set out.

She doesn’t bring the scars up until the two of you are alone, checking in. Mostly she wants to make sure you’re not in pain and if you are, she can make burn cream. Someone in her clan had burns like yours that bothered them. You’re surprised by her practical offer and kiss her cheek, thankful for her support. You take her up on the offer, especially when you end up on the coast. The hot air makes you super itchy.

It becomes a habit for her to help you put the burn cream on your back since it’s hard for you to reach. It’s a soft moment inside the normal day to day chaos. Bellara loves that you trust her enough to let her do this and gets to touch you. Her face is red by the end and you tease her but its worth all the teasing to see the soft look in your eyes. Once of these days she’s going to get her nerve to kiss you, she promises!

Neve Gallus:

Neve figured you were using clothing to cover up something. Most people don’t wear as many layers as you and it a toss up between scars or you really are that much trouble. The truth is, as always, a little bit of both. You naturally run cold but it’s more than that. The first time she sees your scars, she’ll admit she wasn’t expecting them. She knows that jobs can go wrong, she just wishes you were luckier.

She won’t talk about the scars unless you bring them up. She understands how it feels for others to judge you based on old wounds; she’s almost punched people because of her leg. Neve does go out of her way to get you warm drinks to hold and buys you long pants as yours get ruined. The detective side of her wants to know how you got the scars but she does her damnedest to keep those thoughts to herself.

Neve can’t help but kiss the scars when she can, almost without thinking. Clothes on or off, she’ll kiss the palm of your hand or rub your shoulder. Let her know if the touching is too much and she’ll back off. She accepts every part of you, scared or not. She likes the flustered look on your face, it isn’t often she throws you off. Neve can and will use it to her advantage.

[ghostdiva]

Jax Character Analysis

this was something I was going to turn into a video essay. I unfortunately found out the hard way that I don't have the mental capacity to turn the analysis I made into a video essay. it's just a small essay.

that said, click the read more if you want to read some walls of text.

So, as some of you might guess, I’m a huge fan of the amazing digital circus. I’ve always loved when shows break down their characters, and show how they tick, what their experiences are, and how they coped with it. Especially when these characters are antagonistic in nature. There’s nothing like thinking “man, this character is an asshole”,vaguely wondering why, then getting their lore dropped and thinking “oh…. Well yeah that’d do it”, while coping with the emotional knives the plot just stabbed you with.

And fortunately for me, this show is all about the characters. I remember seeing posts from Gooseworx, the creator of digital circus herself, stating that this show was not only about the characters, but finding meaning in a stagnant life. Which I think is an amazing and deep concept to think about.

Now, there are posts made by other people picking apart every member of the digital circus. However I feel a lot of people get Jax misunderstood, often writing him off as a one-note, one dimentional asshole. Some people even think he’s an NPC, like they can’t fathom the idea that a person would be capable of cruelty, despite the world we live in today. And with how hellish, crazy, and wild the digital world is shown to be able to be, I’m frankly not surprised that a character would be capable of cruelty.

However, I hardly think Jax is 1 dimensional. I think there’s a lot to see and explore with his character. I will also point out now, that I am not condoning, supporting, or defending Jax’s actions in the show, I’m simply trying to understand the why’s.

That said, the first thing I want to address are the emotions Jax portrays throughout the show. I’m also gonna throw in some tells I’ve noticed, along with a sprinkle of shape theory. So let’s get into it.

Like any good storyteller, I’m gonna start at the very beginning. We, as the viewer, see a lot of Jax in the pilot, aka episode 1. The first thing I wanna point out is his facial expressions. Specifically, his tell that I’m going to refer to as “mischief mode”. Whenever Jax wants to cause mischief, his face will portray the tell of “mischief mode”, which is portrayed by his eyes and mouth sharpening into crescent shapes. In "mischief mode”, Jax sports a Cheshire grin, and his eyes squint a bit, creating crescents for every facial feature. He does this when he’s teasing the circus members, or about to cause mischief, which usually involves one of the circus members. Even when Jax isn’t smiling, if the corners of his mouth look sharp or pointed, he’s likely still looking to cause mischief.

But what about when Jax isn’t trying to cause mischief? Well, in practically every other scene we see Jax in, that doesn’t involve mischief, he looks bored. Jax wears expressions that range around boredom, apathy, curiosity, annoyance, and anger. Many times, when I’ve watched Jax’s character, I’ve found myself wondering if chronic boredom was ever a reason for him to do what he does. Especially since he almost seems to chase anything that is new or exciting. He does have limits though, as he’s shown in the pilot immediately booking it when he sees the abstracted Kaufmo.

Speaking of, I do want to talk about his actions in the pilot a bit. As well as his overall attitude toward adventures. With the gather the gloinks adventure, Jax approaches it with a level of apathy. The gloinks are so uninteresting for him, that he barely cares when the gloinks basically kidnap Zooble. Although, you could argue that everyone held a bit of apathy toward Zooble’s kidnapping by gloink, except for Gangle. Afterall, literally everyone just stood there and watched it happen, and Gangle was the only one even remotely looking distressed about Zoobles predicament. If anything, Jax is the only one who calls attention to Zoobles kidnapping by saying “oh no, they killed Zooble. Anyway you guys wanna get something to eat?”

In the pilot he seems to hold a sort of “no matter what happens, they’ll be fine” mindset, which is likely due to the nature of the digital world. Afterall, it seems that the only real way to “die” in the digital world is by abstracting. We as the viewer, see the characters of the digital circus go through things that’d kill a person in the real world. Such as falling from high heights, getting run over, getting eaten, and being slammed into the walls and floor. At worst this can jumble their characters code, making them glitch. However, outside of that, it would seem that physical harm has no real lasting consequences. And Jax, who is already accustomed to the digital world, knows this. Hell, with how often the circus crew gets thrown around on adventures, it wouldn’t surprise me if he ended up finding humor in the misfortune others face and experience. In fact, I’d argue that he does find humor in it, because he does go out of his way to cause that misfortune sometimes.

Getting back on topic, Jax’s approach to the Pilot’s adventure is one of apathy, and he didn’t care about it so much that he elected himself to check on Kaufmo with Ragatha and Pomni instead of participating. The only reason Jax ends up participating in the Gloink adventure at all, is because Kaufmo abstracted. The fact he flees within moments of finding out Kaufmo abstracted, implies that abstracted members are one of the few great dangers within the digital circus. It’s only emphasized more with Ragatha getting glitched after being thrown around by the abstracted Kaufmo. The next time we see Jax in the pilot, he’s running. He checks behind himself as if to make sure he isn’t being chased, before addressing Gangle and Kinger.

How Jax goes about this interaction is interesting to me, and I think it’s what made people think he wasn’t all that bad when all we had was the pilot. When Gangle asks Jax about Kaufmo, he lies about it, saying “oh he’s doing great”. Jax says that with a lot of sarcasm though, dragging out the “great” and making exaggerating gestures. I think Jax lies here because he knows that if he drops the truth here, he’s just going to be questioned. Gangle and Kinger would likely be distressed at the news, making them less likely to move. And Kaufmo is still roaming around the tent. When Jax hears Kaufmo’s growls, he quickly forces himself into mischief mode, using the bowling ball to get both Kinger and Gangle down the “Zooble hole”. Jax then quickly joins them, not only successfully removing all of them from the tent area, but also hiding them from Kaufmo’s abstraction.

A lot of people tend to write off Jax as an asshole, yet his actions seem to show him caring at least a little bit about the people around him. Afterall, if he didn’t care about them, he wouldn’t have forced Kinger and Gangle down the “Zooble hole” with him. He would’ve just left them there, where they’d likely run into Kaufmo and end up like Ragatha, who was left glitched and distorted in the hallway of the living quarters.

Now, you might be thinking “yeah he’s an asshole, not a monster. But what about episode 2? He basically terrorized Pomni and Gangle the whole time”. To which I’d say “funny you bring up episode 2”.

In episode 2, you’re right, we do get a lot of Jax being an ass. However, I’d like to point out what the adventure was called. “Candy Carrier Chaos”. I’m gonna emphasize a very important word here. “Candy Carrier Chaos”. Now, I’m going to preface this by saying, I’m pretty sure Jax is a literal thinker. He doesn’t sugar coat anything he says, in fact, he’s sometimes brutally honest. In episode 3, when Caine told them they had to collect paranormal activity, Jax took it as having to Capture all the ghosts. So when he’s given the adventure called “Candy Carrier Chaos”, where he has to track down a bunch of bandits and take back what they stole; Jax is stoked. The title, and general premise of the adventure implies that it’ll be a high action, high stakes adventure, with fighting, death, and well, chaos. So he goes into this adventure with that expectation, which is why he looks so apathetic until princess Loolilalu brings out the modded syrup tanker. From that point “mischief mode” is on until they go over the cliff and land in the fudge below.

Now I know you’re thinking “OP, Jax literally throws Pomni out of the truck”. You're right, however I think Pomni was only targeted here because Ragatha literally offered her by saying “I’m sure there’s something you could do to help out” in reference to the adventure. Jax, who’s more on the idea of pulling a vehicle heist, and realizing he’ll need an extra set of hands to help him if he wants to do it, just takes the offer. Now, you gotta remember Jax’s mindset regarding member safety. Which is that “they can’t really die or get hurt in a way that matters (that is to say, physically disabled or restricted due to injury), so no matter what happens, they’ll be fine.”

Now, this isn’t a healthy mindset in the slightest, but there is a bit of logic there. Pomni is still new and doesn’t know this yet, so she’s understandably hurt and confused by Jax’s actions. Which is why she doesn’t see Jax as someone who would be there for her, and we see this with Jax’s hand missing in this scene.

But this isn’t about Pomni, this is about Jax.

Now, once the truck goes over the cliff, everyone is on the outside of the truck. With the fudge monster, it looks like Jax is like, scraping the bottom of the barrel for what chaos he can cause. The most he could do was yoink Ragatha’s key to the Kingdom with the promise to let the fudge monster into the kingdom if he helps them capture the gummy gators. It’s a promise he makes good on, and it ends up being the last laugh he gets for causing chaos in this episode.

Now, with episode 3, we unfortunately don’t get a lot of Jax. from what we do get, we see him follow the premise of the adventure, vacuuming up ghostly under the idea that “collecting paranormal activity” meant “capturing the ghosts”. Ragatha scolds him for it, and when they have to choose between the 2 doors, Jax uses Gangle’s mask to see if the scary door was rigged or something. It was, as the door turned into a giant mouth, consuming Gangle’s mask, never to be seen again. This kicks off the plot, where Kinger and Pomni get separated from the group. I’d like to point out that this is the second time in a row that Jax’s actions has caused Pomni to get separated from the rest of the group. However Jax had no way of knowing that Kinger and Pomni would end up getting forced down the scary door. Once again though, his apathy toward them is made clear when all he has to say after this is “oh that’s the scary door”.

The next time we see Jax, he’s tied up and struggling against the rope. And if I had to guess, he probably just wanted to get free to capture the other ghost that Ragatha and Gangle had a tea party with. As soon as they all left Martha Mildenhall’s room, Jax stopped struggling. While he was tied up though, Jax’s expression ranged from enraged, to annoyed.

I’d also like to point out another little detail I noticed. And it’s that Jax gets visibly annoyed whenever someone has an emotional moment. He gets annoyed when Kaufmo’s funeral is brought up, he gets annoyed when Pomni explains why she wants to bring Gumigoo back with her. He gets annoyed when Pomni thanks Ragatha for being concerned about her. It’s almost like he gets annoyed at emotional vulnerability. And boy do I wonder why this purple twink has such a strong reaction to emotional vulnerability. I mean, there’s only a few times that Jax is seen being emotionally vulnerable himself, and each of these instances are at most, a second or 2 long. 

This brings me to the 4th episode, which is the most recent episode as of posting this. This is also probably the most interesting episode for Jax’s character so far, as he seems to take it down a notch when it comes to the mischief he usually makes.

The episode begins with Jax, Gangle, and Ragatha chilling in the common area. Jax wielding a baseball bat, and Ragatha trying to teach Gangle how to throw a baseball. While Ragatha verbally walks Gangle through the motions of throwing the ball, Jax says “you’re wasting your time Raggy”, in a teasing manner. Keep in mind, this is the first time we’re seeing the characters engage in actual play with one another. And Jax does seem to just want to play in the moment. Hell, I’d say he’s being very patient, waiting for Ragatha to teach Gangle to throw so he can hit the ball. He’s also displaying emotions outside his usual range. During this bit he has a neutral, focused, or curious expression, which I’d say is indicative of him just wanting to play a game. The only “Mischief Mode” tell present here is his smile, but his eyes aren’t squinted in the crescent shape that indicates it. So it’s very likely that he’s just having fun here.

When Gangle finally throws the ball, Jax swings the bat, hits the ball with his eyes closed, and the ball hits Gangle in the face. Ragatha immediately scolds Jax, assuming he did it on purpose. Jax immediately defends himself saying “I actually didn’t mean to do that”, but Ragatha doesn’t seem to care that it was an accident, and only sees that Jax hurt a circus member again. So the 2 start fighting, with Ragatha stating her anger at Jax for always hurting the other members, and Jax arguing that this time was an accident, and that if it were on purpose he would’ve been proud of it. Which implies that Jax wasn’t proud of the fact that he hurt Gangle here. He probably was just trying to play a game.

Outside of that, episode 4 has a lot of Jax scenes that show similar and different sides to him. We see him still get up to some mischief when he throws Ragatha in the deep fryer, but after that we see a more chill version of Jax. His expressions also visually seem more strained or forced in some scenes, which might allude to what Gooseworx meant when she said Jax would get worse as the episodes went on. When Gooseworx said that originally, people thought that the pranks and mischief Jax would cause would get more and more extreme, to the point where he crosses a serious line. However, I think that Jax’s “Mischief Mode” is a mask in it of itself, which was meant to cover up his feelings and emotions. And we as the viewer will see that mask slip more and more, as Jax’s mental state steadily declines. You see, Kaufmo was an example of what happens when you don’t have a support group in the digital world, and no one likes Jax. So why would any of the circus members try to be there for him? He’s not once shown to have any care for them in their eyes. To them, all he’s done is tease them, bully them, and sometimes even intentionally put them in harm's way. Even in moments where it wasn’t intentional on his part. I’ll admit, this does make me nervous for his character moving forward, but while Gooseworx said he’d get worse, she didn’t say he won’t get better. I really do want to see Jax get some positive character development, or even just get some more concrete reasons behind Jax’s behaviour.

[heartssturnioloo]

could you do virgin!bsf chris and reader.

eg. they were playing truth or dare and it starts to get freaky and chris couldn’t answer the questions and ended up admitting he was a virgin so reader decides to help him learn how to have sex ect.

also can i be 🧸 anon?

virgin ~ c. sturniolo

warnings ‼️: nsfw content ahead, 🔞, consume with your own risk, smut, p in v, unprotected sex, fingering, loss of virginity

a/n: working through requests i promise 😫😫, not proofread, first time writing smut so may not be that good 😢

a/n: anon added

dividers by @/anitalenia 💞💞

wc: 794

“Truth?” you respond to Chris, “Let me think.”

At this point, you were high on dopamine, the rush blurring your consciousness, not fully in control of your actions.

“Are you a sub or a dom?” you ask Chris, your best friend. This was definitely crossing some unexplored boundaries in your friendship— but you were too into the game. Plus, there was no harm in answering such a vague question, right? It wasn't too invasive.

As the words leave your mouth, a hint of a blush quickly dusts over Chris’ cheeks, panning down onto his neck.

“Come onnnn… it's not that bad!” you argue, “Unless, you accept losing?”

“No, it's not that, it's just…” Chris starts.

“Are you a switch?” you interrupt.

“No, it's that…” Chris tries again.

“Don't enjoy either?” you interrupt again.

Having no choice, Chris decides to just blurt his answer out, “I'm a virgin.”

That instantly shuts you up, your eyes widening at him, just staring at him.

“...What?” you manage to say.

Chris groans in embarrassment, hiding his face in his hands, the previously dust of red has now become a roaring shade of red, coating his face and ears.

“Listen, I know how it sounds…” he tries to defend himself.

“But how? You're always flirting with basically everyone and all the girls have a crush on you,” you ask, completely bewildered at his confession, thinking it must be some sort of joke.

“Fuck… this is embarrasing,” Chris says, looking up from his hand covered face, “It just never happened. It's not a bad thing, alright?”

“Right, it's not a bad thing, but I just didn't expect that from you of all people.”

“It doesn't mean anything, I'm still experienced in other ways,” Chris justifies.

“Like what?” you continue, prying to know more. This wasn't something you two would ever talk about, but since you have the opportunity now, why not take it?

“Kissing, fingering, all that stuff. Nothing much I haven't done.”

“But nothing is as good as the real thing,” you argue.

“Yeah?”

And that's how you found yourself laid on your back, your sweatpants pulled to your ankles as Chris towered above you, pulling out his semi-hard length with one hand and rubbing your clit through your panties with the other.

He goes to pull your panties down, and you help him by lifting your hips up, Chris sliding them to your ankles.

You kick off the clothing gathered at your ankles, now somewhere on the floor, scattered with clothing, as Chris pulls off his shirt.

“We'll just start off with missionary?” you ask Chris.

He nods along, resuming working his fingers on your clit, while lazily stroking hwitcock with his other hand.

Spitting on his fingers, his fingers linger on your clit for a few moments before inserting one of his fingers inside your already dripping pussy, clenching around him.

At this point, his cock is rock hard, resting upright against his stomach.

“I think I'm wet enough,” you say, almost a whisper.

Chris nods and pauses fingering you, “Can I?”

“Yeah, we'll go slow,” you reply, despite it being his first time, he actually seemed to have an idea of what he was supposed to do.

Pulling his fingers out briefly, he quickly replaces them with the head of his length.

You both pause for a moment, adjusting to the moment before you lock eyes with each other, knowing you both want more.

Chris pushes in more, filling you up, eliciting a simultaneous gasp from both of you— he was stretching you out and you were clenching around his cock.

He can't keep his eyes off at the way he enters you, the way you accept him.

By the time he's completely buried in you, all previous awkwardness has faded, replaced with lust and desire for each other.

Slowly, Chris begins thrusting in and out of you, each thrust stronger than the previous, each thrust making you wetter, each thrust making him want more.

Your moans fill the room, at that point, your friendship boundaries had been crushed and swept away, too entranced in the moment.

Chris’ head falls back, groans spilling from his parted lips, still thrusting.

Your legs wrap around his waist, wanting more as you begin to feel the familiar feeling of the knot in your abdomen.

“Chris, I'm gonna…” you manage to breathe out through your moans, captivated in ecstasy.

“I know… me too,” Chris whispers, breathily his thrusts become more sloppy.

Chris aids you towards release by focusing his fingers on your clit, enhancing your pleasure.

Eventually, you see white and pleasure rushed through your veins, all around your body.

Similarly, Chris pulls out and finishes on your lower abdomen, laying beside you.

“I think I prefer being a dom.”

taglist 💞:

@joces-wrld

@madisonsfavgirl

[doodler16]

LONGGG ask ahead.

I feel like Viv just doesn’t understand sex outside of funny haha bdsm ‘daddy’ jokes.

Especially the Helluva short where Blitzo says he’s a top and therefore is bad at oral. What?????? That’s not how it works???? I wish I had more examples but I think the general vibe of sex only being used for power dynamics is present in both HH and HB. Blitzo’s sa threat to moxie (and millie) in an early episode, the way Stolas cheating with a lower class imp is first used to show that he’s a bad guy and that blitzo is desperate BUT this is later almost retconned to make it into a cutesy toxic yaoi love story and cheating is suddenly okay. Fizz and Ozzie’s relationship I just can’t take seriously when it’s reduced Fizz into a sub gay twink stereotype (‘pwease big daddy?’ Ughhh stfu). Side tangent but I was so happy to see representation of a disabled person with agency and success, until he started being babied by the narrative and acts totally different especially in the Mammon episode. They make Mammon look bad for sexualising Fizz and bodyshaming, which is a good message about toxic bosses, until you remember that Blitzo has done that and much worse to his employees.

This is just as bad in HH, the Angel and Val thing is just disturbing. Like I can forgive slightly bad writing but hiring a known proshipper with an SA kink to storyboard the scenes of a SA VICTIM BEING ABUSED is fucking insane. Viv doesn’t care about representation, kink isn’t just about being edgy and dangerous during sex and it feels like she just doesn’t understand the history behind it. Making the sin of lust himself say he cares about consent just to make your character look good (because she suddenly decided she wanted him to be a dom sugar daddy instead of an actual bad guy), but then you also approve of showing SA in your shows as a joke, especially when it’s used against characters that are seen as more pathetic (moxxie and sir pentious). Vivz gets off to negative power dynamics and seems to fetishise abuse of power. Pretty obvious considering the disturbing SA scene playlist she had on her old YouTube channel.

Also Stolas is like a textbook r*pist imo, the self pitying and ‘well I WANTED it to be consensual!’ And whatever. When you’re in that position of power you have a responsibility to not abuse that. At the start of the show it was fine because they weren’t trying to make a moral message or paint him as a good guy, but clearly they had to retcon so much just to make it work when they wanted him to be a innocent twink. The retcon to make Stolas and Blitzo childhood friends, making Stolas a desperate poor baby who doesn’t know how to communicate and he actually ALWAYS totally loved Blitzo. Sure. But really if you just watch the show without any background knowledge, Stolas looks like a creep. And Viv had to justify everything Stolas did while making Blitzo, the victim in this dynamic, into the bad guy who totally also loves Stolas (despite clearly not being into him until they wanted to change things in the end of s1) and he’s in the wrong for disliking the upper class demons who mistreat them.

Viv seems to see kink as consensual abuse in a way. She doesn’t understand how sexual dynamics work. And she fetishises toxic relationships without thinking critically of what she’s really saying. Double standards between SA jokes and SA storylines. I’d even say that making Val a character people can get attached to and buy merch of is kinda icky, because yes irl r*pists can be charming to others, but clearly Viv wasn’t saying anything interesting with his character’s portrayal. She just wanted someone to abuse her favourite OC and make sure her close proship friends can get off to it while disregarding how victims may respond to it.

It’s a sort of conservative way of seeing kink culture and queer culture in general imo. The p*rn industry has already normalised fetishising abusive power dynamics but against women much more often. Viv is just doing that but between two male characters instead. Also did Chaggie get any sort of sexual stuff idk. I don’t think so, I can hardly remember any f/f relationships in her work.

Sorry for the long rant I just have so many thoughts on it ahh and I wanna see if people agree and have more in depth talk on it. Viv stop letting your p*rn addiction ruin your show 💔

Vivziepop shouldn’t be surprised when people meme on her when it comes to her lame sex and swearing jokes 😭 There is a lot of it that you can make a complication video of it.

Short 2 “Mission Antarctica” was so dumb especially with Blitzø and the crystal. “I’ve never been good at this shit.” That such a lie, when has Blitzø sucked at lust? Especially when the show goes out of its way to establish that Blitzø not only scored a literally pop star, a goetia prince, and hundreds of hellborn who were at Verosika’s party complaining about him.

Yeah, you are right Anon. Thats not how it works, just because you are a top doesn’t mean you are automatically bad at oral sex and doesn’t help how they establish Blitzø to be this attractive person who is able to get most people or use his charms as an advantage in a tough situation. I know this scene is a joke but Blitzø easily could’ve accessed the crystal.

The fact that Blitzø gets away with sexual assaulting and threatening Moxxie and by extension Millie is insane. He never actually apologizes to them and proceeds to call out Mammon for doing similar things he did to Moxxie and Millie. And it never crosses Blitzø’s mind or forces him to realize that he’s a hypocrite too.

Don’t get me wrong that scene where Blitzø defends Fizzarolli from Mammon multiple times is sweet but at the same time why should I take it seriously when it used as a punchline for a character like Moxxie. It’s the same issue with Angel Dust and Sir Pentious.

Vivziepop wants us, the audience to emphasize and sympathize with Angel Dust getting raped and abused by Valentino. But in the same breath makes a joke about Sir Pentious getting raped off screen and some fans making excuses that “it’s Hell.” At this point, why should I care about Angel Dust’s situation if some people are willing to let a scene like this slide.

I mean Vivziepop was arguing with a bunch of SA survivors on Instagram Threads about episode 4 of Hazbin Hotel (before the full episode got out). 😂

Fizzarolli and Ozzie are something to say the least. Their relationship can be summed up by “Sugar daddy Ozzie dominates wittle Fizzarolli.” They had a joke at the end of Mammon special episode that Ozzie tops Fizzarolli, that’s how un-subtle they are about their dynamic.

I like Fizzarolli and somewhat latch on to him and relate to him regarding his disability but the man (who is in his 30s) is babied and coddled especially by Ozzie that I unironically miss his edge and fierceness from season 1. That Stoliz childhood plot was so useless, then meeting as a children made the Stoliz ship unironically look worse and was useless. You aren’t slick Vivziepop, I see you with the children Stoliz merch, trying to make it look like they were friends when in reality they aren’t. 😂

No Anon, Chaggie didn’t have any sexual content in season 1 compared to ships like Ozzie/Fizz and Stoliz. Even Millie/Moxxie and Valentino/Vox had more “spicy” content than Chaggie. The closest thing Chaggie did was have a soft kiss on the lips in episode 8. Apparently, in season 2 something “fun” and “spicy” will happen between Chaggie.

[ropebunnykant]

Hi!! What are your thoughts on the confrontations at the empty pool vs the ocean? Obviously the ocean is relevant to kant's past but the juxtaposition of the two is so interesting to me but I can't really figure out if that was just an aesthetic choice or if there's actually something to it.

Looking forward to your thesis about the boat scene!!

omg thank you for asking and i will absolutely be writing an in depth post about the boat scene probably later on cause it was sooo chock full of things and first kanaphan deserves every fucking award possible for that scene

i will say, i think when it comes to analyzing media, there are so few things that are done and chosen "just for aesthetic." i've had other people comment on that when i've talked about the religious imagery, and while yes, aesthetic is important in media and often times can be reason enough for directors and designers to choose them, i would say more often than not there is also meaning behind big choices like set. they put fadel and style in an empty pool for a reason, just as they put kant and bison on the boat for a reason.

now, the boat was likely a very obvious choice for bison because like you said, it's relevant to kant's past and kant told him on their first date that he was scared of the ocean. so, of course tying him up and putting him on a boat surrounded by water to confront him would be the exact sort of psychological torture bison would want to inflict on kant.

but when you compare it to fadel and style, i think it's also a way of representing openness, and in a way it's a representation of each couple.

because fadel confronts style in an empty pool, and he's stripped style almost completely naked. style is laid almost totally bare, and that's true in a literal sense as well as a metaphorical sense, because fadel knows he's a "snitch." and the thing about fadel and style is that while yes, there's been lies and deception there, style has also been very earnest in every way he can be. it was only more recently that he had to start lying for real, and even then he still sneaks in as much truth and openness with fadel as he possibly can. and it's exactly what he does here - even with a gun to his head and fadel telling him not to say he loves him, style still says it because it's true and style doesn't know how to be anything but open and honest with fadel.

and then when it comes to the bison and kant of it all, there's a lot more lies and deception. kant is not laid bare in the same way - bison even has him in essentially a costume by putting him in the patient scrubs. but at the center of it all is the fact that even with all the lies, even with the murky waters, kant has been honest with bison. he's been vulnerable with him. and that's how bison knows putting kant on a boat and telling him to jump overboard is the cruelest thing he could do to him. it's fair game to bison because of what kant did to him, but it also shows that even if bison thinks everything was a lie, there was always some amount of truth to it. because kant never had to give an assassin his biggest fear, but he did it anyways.

i also think the empty pool vs the ocean says a lot about bison and fadel's intentions in the scene, even on a subconscious level. i don't think fadel at any point planned to actually hurt style. maybe he told himself he would, but i think deep down he knew he would never be able to go through with it. so, he puts him in an empty pool where yeah, he can get hurt if he pushes style into it and he hits the floor of the pool, but those injuries likely won't be serious enough to kill him - and he won't drown.

whereas bison, despite likely also knowing he can't actually hurt kant himself, took him somewhere he could make kant do it for him. and even then, it's clear he regrets it as soon as kant hits the water, because he's calling out to him as soon as he jumps off, as if he didn't expect him to actually do it. bison wants to hurt kant but he knows he can't, whereas fadel wants to want to hurt style and knows he can't. and those are two very different things.

[otherone12]

Wait, Are You In A Band?! (part2)

Basement!Gerard Way x Reader

-> Masterlist

A/N: Hey!! Giving more Basement!Gee for u and using the idea @fangirlinc gave me, here is part 2 of this fic! And about the requests, i've been recieved a lot requests (and thanks so fucking much for each one!), but it's going to take me a while to write them. On my masterlist, you can see the order in which they will be published. I'm also giving preference to requests! Well, I hope you like it <3

Summary: Your boyfriend is the leader sing of a band, and his band's first show, unfortunally will be in the same moment as your cheer practice. A couple lies, a stage dive, and a bit of blood, made that moment memorable.

If you didn't read the 1st part, HERE it is.

- Word Count: 3.680

- Warnings: Blood!

- Ps: I'll not use y/n…-

Ps2: I'm brazilian, so english is not my first language... sorry if i wrote something wrong.

___________________________________________

Reader’s 1st Person POV

Since that prom, that heated kiss, that dance, that moment that seemed like we were alone on that dance floor, Gerard and I started to date. 

We were by no means a conventional couple. He is a metalhead artist, with his leather jacket, black messy hair, faded band shirt, his talent and his amazing voice. And I'm a cheerleader who appreciates good music, with my high ponytail, skirt, pom poms and, just sometimes, band tees… 

In the beginning, I noticed the weird looks on the corridors when we walked holding hands. I didn’t care at all, but of course Gerard wasn’t used to the attention, and got adorably flustered every time.

Now, weeks later, we’re sitting on the floor for lunch as usual, laughing and talking like we always do. The sunlight streaming through the window highlights his features, but suddenly, his laughter fades. His smile turns shy, and there’s an edge of nervousness in his voice when he speaks.

- So… I was waiting to tell you in person… - the bit of insecurity creeped his voice when he said - My band… we are gonna play next sunday for the first time! Like, it is a small festival, and they are just gonna give us a beer after… but it's a beginning, right?

- Holy shit! - I almost screamed too loud, but his words reached me like a wave - Gee this is amazing! 

He didn’t respond at first, just stared at me with a shy smile, his face turning a bit red.

- You guys deserved this! You are awesome! - But my excitement was still bubbling inside of me - I can’t wait to be there, in the front row, screaming and cheering for you! 

- R-really? Uh, I mean… you’d really come cheer for us? - He rubbed the back of his neck, his fingers brushing through his messy black hair.

He didn't look confused, just a bit surprised by my enthusiasm.

- Of course! - My hand ment to his shoulder, and I nodded - I’m your girlfriend, it’s like an obligation. And the least I can do is be there for you. 

- I’m not used to people doing this… it’s kind of a new thing… - His awkward chuckle was the cutest thing ever - You are the best girlfriend ever… I mean, you are my first, but… uh…  you know what i mean and…

- Gee, i get it. Thank you - I say, leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek. - You are the best boyfriend ever.

His grin widens, but before we can savor the moment, the shrill ring of the bell snaps us back to reality.

Gerard stands first, then offers me his hand, helping me up.

- See you after school? - He asked, still holding my hand.

- Sorry, Gee… I have to practice today…- I sigh, hating to disappoint him - but hey, I text you when I'm at home, okay?

- Okay… - He pouts, squeezing my hand one last time before reluctantly heading off to class. 

 During practice, the only thing on my mind was Gerard on stage. I could practically see him, his messy black hair falling into his eyes, his voice raw with emotion as he sang his heart out. The first of a million performances, I was sure of it. The thought made me smile, even as I tried to focus on the routine. He deserved this, being himself, doing what he loved, without caring about the jerks who liked to mess with him.

But my daydream was shattered by my coach’s sharp voice cutting through the gym like a whip.

- Well, girls, we’re going to have extra practice on sunday. - At first, I thought I was listening wrong, but she wasn’t kidding - I wanna see all of you here, no excuses. 

Her words landed like a punch to my stomach.

My eyes widened, panic bubbling inside me. Sunday. Gerard’s first gig. My mind spun as I tried to piece together how I could possibly be in two places at once. There was no way I could miss his moment. I couldn’t.

Almost tripping over myself, I made a beeline for her, my thoughts racing as I fought to find the right words. My chest tightened, and I let out a shaky breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

- Uh… coach? -  I called, my voice a little too high-pitched as I approached her.

She turned, raising an eyebrow at me. I plastered on a hopeful smile, even though I felt like I was about to combust.

- I kind of have an extremely important commitment on sunday and-

- Look, this has to be perfect. You want to stay on the team, don’t you? - She was serious, I froze, nodding mechanically, my heart sinking.- Great. Then I will wait you here on sunday. Like I said, no excuses.

In desperation, I was about to start begging. I wanted to explain how much seeing my boyfriend on the stage was, and I’m not lying by saying that I’m one of the best cheerleaders of the team.

- But-

I started, but she cut me off. 

- No buts. You’re dismissed.

The whistle blew, signaling the end of practice, but my world felt like it had just been flipped upside down. As the other girls filed out, chatting and laughing, I stayed rooted in place, gripping my pom-poms like they were the only things keeping me together.

I can’t be in two places at the same time, but I can pretend I have an excuse she can't argue with. The moment I stepped at home, even before texting Gerard, I sent a message to my best friend.

Me: Heyy… So, I’ll need a huge favor on sunday…

Her: HII! What u need?

Me: Me: I can’t be at practice on sunday… I need you to cover me. Say to the coach that I am sick or something. 

Her: Y'know that coach isn’t dumb right?

Me: Ik but I kind of have no choice here.

Her: What is so important that will make you miss practicing and lie?!

Me: Gerard’s band is gonna be performing for the first time. I CAN’T LOSE IT!

Her: OMG! YOU TOTALLY NEED TO BE THERE!

Me: So, can I count on you?

Her: Just because I love you. But you owe me BIG TIME.

Me: Thank u! Love u 2 <3

Gerard’s 1st Person POV

I spent the next few days in a haze of nerves, unable to think about anything else. Nothing mattered except being perfect. No, absolutely perfect.

I sang the same songs over and over until the words didn’t even feel like words anymore, pacing around my room like a caged animal. My voice cracked, and every mistake sent a jolt of panic straight to my gut.

How can I not be nervous?

This is our first chance, our shot at being seen, and if I screw it up, what if we never get another one? The thought made my chest tighten, my breaths coming in shallow.

And then there was her. She’ll be there.

My stomach twisted at the thought of her standing in the crowd, watching me. Watching us. What if I mess up in front of her? What if she realizes I’m not as good as she thought I was, that I’m just some geek wannabe with a leather jacket?

I could almost see it: her face falling, the look of disappointment in her eyes. Maybe she’d finally notice all the other guys out there, guys who are cooler, more confident, better. Guys who deserve her way more than I do.

The spiral was relentless, like a storm in my head that wouldn’t let up no matter how hard I tried to shut it out. I kept telling myself, “You’re doing great. Everything’s gonna be fine.” I tried to believe it, but the words felt hollow, like they were bouncing off a wall I couldn’t break through.

“She loves you. She wouldn’t trade you for anyone, no matter how bad it gets.”

But even that wasn’t enough to stop the sinking feeling. What if I was wrong? What if I wasn’t enough for her? What if I mess it all up? 

I sat down on the edge of my bed, my heart was pounding, my palms were slick with sweat, and I felt like I might throw up at any moment.

- Pull it together, Gerard, - I muttered under my breath. But my voice wavered, even to my own ears. 

The show is tomorrow, and I will make this perfect. No matter what. If I have to do stage diving... that's a good idea actually.

Reader’s 1st Person POV

Finally the day arrived and I was excited, not just in a happy way of excitement, but I was afraid. Afraid that something could go wrong; afraid that my coach noticed that I was lying. My stomach was churning with that anxiety, but here I am, in front of the mirror, applying my eyeliner and getting ready to get out and meet Gerard at his house, where Mikey, Frank and Ray already were.

Didn’t take too long and I was there, too. My clothes are really different from the ones I used to wear at school. Nothing like my usual cheer uniform or the light academia outfits I wore. I was simply with one of Gerard’s faded band tees, my ripped jeans and boots. 

I rang the doorbell, and in one second Gerard opened the door. I could see how nervous he was, his shoulders were tense, and his smile hides his anxiety, even if it was really noticeable. 

- Hey, Gee! - Not waiting for his invitation, I hugged him tight, and his arms hung awkwardly by his side before he hugged me back. - So… today is the day, hum?

- Yeah… I-I guess so… - His voice above a whisper. 

- Don’t worry… - I backed off just enough to look in his eyes, I rested my hands on his chest as his stayed hesitantly on my waist - You’re gonna be perfect. 

- D-do you think so? - He furrowed, his voice shaking - I mean, what if-

- Gee, babe… I don’t think so. -  I cupped his face, my thumbs brushing his cheeks - I know so. 

He gave me a small smile, and I closed the space between us, kissing him, a quick pack, but enough to make his cheeks turn pink.

But the moment didn’t linger too much.

- Hey… not to interrupt the lovebirds here… - Mikey said, approaching - but we’ve got to go.

- Yeah, you are right… - Gerard blinked, snapping out of whatever trance he’d fallen into. He grabbed my hand, intertwining our fingers as we headed to the car.

The drive was a blur, and before long, we arrived at the park where the festival was happening. The small stage was already buzzing with activity. Crowds of people milled about, grabbing food and beer from the stalls, while speakers blared music to set the mood. I felt Gerard’s hand squeeze mine, while he looked around, frozen in his place. His eyes wide and his breath was coughing in his throat.

- I-i don’t know if I can do this… - he muttered, his voice barely audible over the hum of the crowd. His eyes fixed to that stage - There’s so many people. And it hasn’t even started yet… I should go back home and-

- Hey… Look at me… - I stepped in front of him, holding his hands in mine. - You are amazing. I can’t think of any other guy who can rock a show like I know you can. You are so talented, and you rehearsed so many times… 

His wide, panic-filled eyes met mine, and my heart squeezed at the vulnerability there.

- But what if they didn’t like it? - His voice cracked, and the raw insecurity in it broke my heart. - If all these people thought I'm a joke?  

- Babe, your lyrics are fucking awesome, and you are the greatest singer i’ve ever met. - My gaze didn’t leave his, I gave him a confident smile and gripped his hands a little tighter, my voice steady but firm. - You are not a joke, Gerard. You have more passion than anyone in that crowd could ever dream of. And I’ll be here to scream for you, no matter what, okay?

He nodded, even if he was still trying to convince himself that I was right. He took a deep breath before looking back to that stage.

- I got this…

Gerard’s 1st Person POV

I will not lie here. I was about to throw up. My mind was racing and I could barely pay attention to the other bands who played before us. Before I noticed, we were all on the stage, Frank, Mikey and Ray setting their instruments as I looked for my girlfriend in the crowd. When our eyes finally met, I let out a breath that I didn't even realize that I was holding.  

The stage lights were blinding, hotter than I’d expected. My heart was pounding so hard it felt like it might burst out of my chest. The roar of the crowd… Well, it wasn’t a huge crowd, but it was big enough to send a shiver down my spine, buzzed in my ears, mingling with the feedback of the amps.

Mikey adjusted his bass strap while Frank fiddled with his guitar. Ray did the same… all of them looked calm and collected. How were they not losing their minds right now? My hands trembled as I gripped the microphone, and I forced myself to take a deep breath. You can do this, I thought, though my stomach was flipping like I’d just swallowed a swarm of bees.

I closed my eyes, feeling the sensation of the song on my ears. And before i noticed i was singing “Honey, This Mirror Isn't Big Enough for the Two of Us." like it was the most normal thing ever. When we played “Vampires Will Never Hurt You” I was already walking and jumping on the stage, just like I've dreamed of; like I practiced in my room; like I always imagined in the shower.

I caught glimpses of my girlfriend in the audience, her wide smile shining brighter than the stage lights. She was singing along, her hands raised high, and I swear it felt like she was holding me steady with her gaze.

And then came the moment I’d been thinking about all week.

I gripped the mic stand, leaning into it as the last notes of the previous song faded out. My chest heaved as I tried to catch my breath, but I couldn’t stop smiling.

- This next song… - I paused, my voice shaking just a little as I scanned the crowd until my eyes locked on her. - This one’s for my girlfriend.

Her face lit up while the crowd erupted. 

- This one’s called… - I smiled, just for her, even if everyone was staring… - ‘Demolition Lovers.’!

Frank started playing the opening riff, and the sound was enough to drown out the world. My voice was steady as I sang, but my heart felt like it was beating in sync with every word.

It was like the song had been written just for this moment. Every lyric felt sharper, more personal, and the emotions poured out of me like I was confessing something sacred. My eyes kept flicking back to her, and every time I saw her smiling, mouthing the words back at me, it was like the rest of the crowd disappeared.

By the time we hit the final note, I was a sweaty, breathless mess. The applause was loud, filling every corner of the park, and it felt like I could float off the stage.

But I wasn’t done yet.

Without thinking, I stepped forward, holding my arms out wide. Damn I felt like a real rockstar. 

For a few wild seconds, I was weightless, the hands of the crowd catching me and pushing me up. The adrenaline was a roar in my ears, louder than the cheers and laughter around me. My arms flailed as I tried to stay balanced, but I was grinning so hard my cheeks hurt.

And then, bam.

Someone’s elbow smacked square into my nose, and a sharp, hot pain exploded across my face.

- Fuck! - I yelped, but my voice was drowned out by the noise. My hand flew to my face, and when I pulled it back, there was blood smeared across my fingers.

The crowd was still moving me, oblivious to my minor injury, and I had no choice but to laugh. By the time they passed me back toward the stage, my nose was still throbbing, but I was too high on adrenaline to care.

Reader’s 1st Person POV

I was almost exploding when he finished “Demolition Lovers”. I didn’t care about my cheer team, didn’t care about my coach or about how out of the team I would be if she discovered. At that point, I just knew that I was supposed to be here, not anywhere else. 

I screamed, and when noticed, Gerard jumped on the crowd. I wasn't close enough to hold him, but I couldn't stop jumping and applauding while the crowd moved him like a wave.

But when he was back on the stage, something caught my attention. His nose. Was bleeding.

I don’t know what, but something in that made something inside of me shifted. I was worried, of course, I didn’t want him to get hurt. But I could help but keep staring with admiration. 

I don’t know if it was his confidence up on that stage, or just the way the red of his blood looked so pretty on his pale skin. His blood was almost shining on his face, dripping and meeting his lips… his face framed in locks of hair glued with sweat around his face, fire and amusement on his eyes… Damn he is so hot. 

I made my way to the backstage, passing through the crowd in an attempt to talk to him. I squeezed through the crowd and finally reached the band. The sound of clapping, shouting and laughter filled the atmosphere, both in the crowd and backstage.

- Gee! - I yelled, and he turned to face me.

Without thinking he runned to me, wrapping his arms around me. 

- You did it! - I said, still hugging him - You were perfect! I’m so proud of you!

My arms still wrapped around his neck, we parted just enough to look at each other. His hands holding my waist again, 

- I-i… I think I really rocked… - His smile was wide, but a bit shy - Thanks to you, cause if you didn’t encourage me, I’d probably never get to that stage.

- But… are you okay? Your nose… - I started, cupping his face. 

- I’m fine… just I got elbowed - He chuckled, whipping the blood on his nose. - But it was kinda nice, right?

- Are you kidding?! You made a fucking stage dive! This was more than just nice - My eyes wide and my smile grew even more - You are a rockstar, Gee. My rockstar.

His shy smile faltered for a second, replaced by something hungrier, something that made my heart pound harder. His hands tightened on my waist, pulling me closer, and his gaze flickered down to my lips.

I didn’t give him a chance to overthink it.

Grabbing the collar of his leather jacket, I yanked him forward, crashing my lips against his. He froze for a split second, probably startled by my boldness, but then he melted into me, his arms wrapping tighter around my waist as he kissed me back with everything he had.

The taste of him was intoxicating—salty sweat, a hint of metallic blood, and something unmistakably , his lips. The blood from his nose smeared against my lips, warm and sticky, and instead of recoiling, it only spurred me on.

My fingers tangled in the lapels of his jacket, holding him as close as possible while his hands roamed my back, pulling me flush against him. The kiss was messy and desperate, teeth grazing, breaths mingling, and I couldn’t get enough.

I pulled back just enough to catch my breath, my lips brushing against his as I spoke.

- You’re bleeding all over me, - I whispered, my voice teasing, but my eyes betrayed the heat still coursing through me.

He let out a breathless laugh, his forehead resting against mine. 

- Sorry… kinda messy, huh? - His cheeks were flushed, and his lips were stained with both blood and the remnants of our kiss.

- Messy suits you, - I said, my fingers tracing his jawline, smearing a little more blood in the process. I leaned in, biting his lower lip gently, and his sharp intake of breath sent a thrill down my spine.

- If I didn’t know you, I would say you’re enjoying that too much - he murmured, his voice rough and low, his hands gripping my hips like he needed to ground himself.

- Maybe I am - I replied, my lips brushing against his again.

I kissed him once more, slower this time but just as intense, savoring the way his body pressed into mine and how he clung to me like I was the only thing keeping him steady. The noise around us, cheering, laughing, the distant hum of the crowd, faded into the background. In this moment, it was just him and me, tangled together in the aftermath of his chaos.

When we finally pulled apart, his lips were swollen, his nose still dripping faintly, and he looked like he’d just stepped out of a dream, or a nightmare, depending on how you looked at it.

- You’re… unbelievable, - he muttered, his voice filled with awe, his thumb brushing over my cheek.

I smiled, breathless and exhilarated, wiping the corner of my mouth with the back of my hand and laughing when I saw the streak of red. 

- Guess we’ll both need to clean up after this.

- Worth it, - He said softly, his gaze locking with mine. And in his eyes, I saw it: the fire, the vulnerability, and the overwhelming gratitude that made my chest tighten in the best way.

- Come on, rockstar, - I whispered, taking his hand. - Let’s go celebrate.

And just like that, we went out to grab a beer, and I couldn't care less about my lie.

___________________________________________

- So, that's it! Hope u liked! <3

- Tag List: @bossiestbitch @mimilovesnumetal

[itacats]

In His Steady Hands

FT: Soap x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of chronic illness, muscle spasms, mild self-doubt, and anxiety. Some depictions of noisy environments (arcades and shooting ranges).

SUM: Navigating through the thrill of an arcade night and a tense shooting range visit, you find yourself caught between your desire to push boundaries and the challenges posed by your body. Soap’s relentless charm and lightheartedness ease your tension, but his sharp perception threatens to unravel the mask you’ve carefully constructed.

A/N: Arcade games and shooting ranges with Soap? Sign me up! 🎯💥 Writing this had me imagining his Scottish humor cutting through every tense moment—truly a blessing! Let me know if y’all can hear his laugh too. 😊

Side note: inspired by when I found out I had dystonia when I was on my high school varsity marksmanship team-boy do I miss it😅

In His Steady Hands Mastlist

Part 2: Shaky Foundations & Hurdles

Your group of friends had been talking about an arcade night for weeks, but when the plan finally came together, you found yourself hesitating. The idea of being in such a lively, chaotic environment with your friends—and Soap—both excited and unnerved you. What if your body decided to betray you at the worst possible moment?

Still, you pushed through the hesitation. You didn’t want to be the person who always said no, the one who distanced themselves from others for fear of the unknown. Soap’s enthusiasm when he texted the group chat to confirm the plan was contagious, and a small part of you was looking forward to seeing him again.

The moment you stepped into the arcade, the energy hit you like a wave. Neon lights danced along the walls, and the cacophony of sounds—coins clinking, games beeping, people laughing—created a dizzying backdrop. You spotted Soap almost immediately, surrounded by your friends as he gestured animatedly towards the games littered around the room.

“There you are!” he called out when he saw you, his voice cutting through the noise. “C’mon, you’re not getting out of this.”

Soap was already in the thick of things, bouncing from game to game with childlike enthusiasm. His energy was infectious, and you couldn’t help but smile as he dragged you and the others toward a row of racing simulators.

“Alright, who’s ready to lose spectacularly?” he teased, shooting a cocky grin in your direction as he slid into the seat of the nearest machine.

You raised an eyebrow, feigning confidence. “Big words for someone who might not even finish the race.”

The group burst into playful jeers, and you slid into the seat next to him, gripping the steering wheel. The screen lit up, the countdown ticking down with a deafening rhythm. Three, two, one—GO!

The game roared to life, and you leaned into the controls, adrenaline surging as you swerved through the digital course. For a moment, you forgot about the noise, the people, the tension coiled inside you. It was just you and the game.

But then it happened.

A sudden spasm shot through your arm, jerking the wheel violently to the side. Your car veered off the track, smashing into a barrier. Heat flushed your face as you fought to steady your grip, but the damage was done. The others were already laughing at the ridiculousness of the crash as your stomach twisted with silent embarrassment.

“You alright there, champ?” Soap’s teasing voice cut through the noise, his tone light but his gaze sharp.

You forced a smile, releasing the wheel and flexing your fingers as if to shake off the moment. “Yeah, just tired. Long day.”

“Fatigue’ll get you every time,” he replied easily, leaning back in his seat as his avatar sped across the finish line in first place. The others groaned, accusing him of cheating, but Soap only laughed, raising his hands in mock surrender. “What can I say? Raw talent.”

Despite the uproar around him, Soap’s eyes lingered on you for a beat longer than necessary, his expression unreadable. You avoided his gaze, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear as you stood to join the group.

“Alright, what’s next?” someone shouted, and the group began to disperse toward the other games.

Soap caught up to you as you meandered toward a skee-ball machine, his voice low enough that only you could hear. “You sure you’re alright?”

You nodded quickly, plastering on a casual smile. “Of course. Just out of practice, I guess.”

He studied you for a moment, his eyes scanning your face as if searching for cracks in the façade. But instead of pressing further, he broke into a wide grin. “Fair enough. But if you want to redeem yourself, I’m always up for a rematch. Winner buys the next round of drinks.”

You chuckled softly, relief blooming in your chest as he steered the conversation away. “You’re on, MacTavish.”

True to form, Soap launched into one of his grand, exaggerated stories as the two of you joined the others. He recounted a tale of a disastrous attempt at drunken karaoke during a squad celebration, complete with an off-key rendition of a Queen song and a broken microphone. The group erupted in laughter, and the tension that had settled over you moments before began to ease.

Soap’s laughter boomed above the others, and you couldn’t help but glance at him, a small, grateful smile tugging at your lips. He’d noticed your stumble—of course he had—but instead of making it a point of concern, he’d diffused it with effortless charm, redirecting the focus away from you.

As the night wore on, you found yourself relaxing more, caught up in the laughter and Soap’s easy humor. But in the back of your mind, the memory of the spasm lingered, a reminder of the delicate balance you walked.

For now, though, you let yourself enjoy the moment. After all, shaky foundations could still hold up under the right support.

In the following weeks, another invitation arrived in Soap’s usual no-nonsense fashion—a simple text that read: "Shooting range tomorrow? You coming?" A grinning emoji with sunglasses followed the message, but it did little to ease the tension that coiled within you.

Your first instinct was to decline. Stress had a way of igniting the worst of your symptoms, and the shooting range was a stress-filled scenario waiting to happen–the loud sounds, the jolts of a freshly fired gun lingering in your arms, the metallic tang in the air that tried to overwhelm your nose. But as you reread the message, imagining Soap’s easy grin and his unrelenting enthusiasm, you hesitated. Turning him down felt like letting him down, and something in you refused to do that.

The next day, you stood outside the range, your palms clammy despite the brisk air. Soap was already waiting for you, leaning casually against the entrance. His face lit up when he spotted you, and any lingering thoughts of backing out vanished.

“About time,” he teased, his Scottish lilt warm and playful. “Thought you were gonna bail on me.”

You forced a laugh, adjusting the strap of your bag. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

Inside, the sharp smell of gunpowder mingled with the low hum of conversation and the muffled pops of firing. The range was busier than you’d expected, adding another layer to the knot in your stomach. Soap guided you to a station, his confidence contagious as he set up the equipment and walked you through the basics.

“Easy enough,” he said, sliding a pair of protective headphones over your ears. “Just keep your stance steady and breathe.”

Keep steady and breathe. Easier said than done.

The first few shots weren’t bad—your aim wasn’t perfect, but Soap’s steady encouragement kept your nerves at bay. His voice, muffled slightly by the headphones, carried a balance of humor and instruction that eased some of your tension.

But as the session wore on, the stress began to mount. The weight of the gun, the crack of each shot, the subtle vibration that coursed through your arms—it all started to take its toll. Your muscles tightened, a warning sign you knew all too well.

You tried to shake it off, adjusting your grip and forcing a smile when Soap glanced your way. “Not bad, huh?” you managed, your voice tight.

“Not bad at all,” he replied, flashing a thumbs-up. But his sharp gaze lingered on you a moment too long, as if sensing something was off.

When a spasm hit, it was impossible to hide. Your fingers twitched in an unruly manner, causing the gun to jerk slightly in your hands. You quickly set it down, hoping Soap hadn’t noticed. A stray bullet with this many people around was asking for trouble… if not more.

“Everything alright?” he asked, his tone casual but laced with an undertone of concern.

You nodded quickly, avoiding his gaze. “Yeah, just…my grip slipped.”

Soap didn’t push, but you could feel his eyes on you as you stepped back from the station, pretending to examine the target. The silence stretched between you, heavy with unspoken questions and the weight of your own self-consciousness.

When he finally spoke, it wasn’t to probe or pry. Instead, he gestured toward the target with a lopsided grin. “Not bad for a first-timer. With a bit more practice, you might even beat me.”

His lightheartedness caught you off guard, easing some of the tension that had built in your chest. You offered a small smile in return, grateful that he hadn’t pushed for answers you weren’t ready to give.

But as the session wrapped up and you walked back to your car, the moment lingered in your mind. You weren’t sure whether to be thankful for Soap’s restraint or ashamed that he’d seen even a glimpse of your struggle.

For now, you decided, it was easier to bury those feelings and focus on the fact that Soap still looked at you the same way he had before—like nothing had changed—probably.

Want to see what's up next? Click here!

[artstennisracket]

In honor of Mike Faist’s birthday, do you have any ideas on Patrick and Art celebrating Art’s birthday together? Would Patrick go all out and surprise him?

i had to do move this ask to the top of my list so I could get it out asap (spoiler alert I did not finish it yesterday on mike’s actual bday, I fell asleep writing it last night 😭) i kept it cute and fluffy because I think Patrick would surprise him🤭

cw: fluff

Neither Art nor Patrick were very big on birthdays. Growing up Art’s family didn’t do much aside from having a birthday cake after dinner, but he still cherished those moments. Patrick’s family on the other hand would always very extravagant dinner parties with a ridiculous amount of people, mainly people Patrick didn’t know like his parents co-workers, investors, etc. They were never treated like they were actually celebrating him, more just celebrating work.

This was going to be Art’s first birthday away from his family (since his birthday usually falls during winter break) and he didn’t go home this year. It was his freshman year at stanford and he wanted to get ahead so he took a class during winter intermission.

He didn’t think much of it and honestly almost forgot about his birthday until he received a text exactly at 12:00am on January 5th from Patrick that read, Happy Birthdayyyy :).

Art smiled reading it. He could always count on Patrick. Shortly after Art received another text from Patrick, sorry I couldn’t be there to celebrate but i’ll visit you soon dw.

Art types back, thank you! and it’s okay man, i’ll see you when I see you.

He doesn’t think anything about it and falls asleep.

…

So imagine Art’s surprise when he’s startled awake by the weight of someone jumping on top of him.

“good morning sunshine, happy birthday!!!!!!” Patrick exclaims, laying directly on top of Art.

Art groans blinking his eyes awake, “what are you doing here?” Luckily Art’s roommate went home for winter break, otherwise the commotion would’ve woken him up too. Art checks his phone on his nightstand to see a text from Tashi that came in at 5:30 am, Happy Birthday.

“and here I was thinking you’d be happy to see me,” Patrick sighs sitting up so he’s sitting in the V between Art’s legs.

Art sits up too, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, “of course I’m happy to see you I just wasn’t expecting—”

Art pauses. He didn’t even get a chance to look around his room yet but when he did he was event more surprised. There were balloons all over his ceiling. So many different shades of blue. “how did you—”

“i bribed your RA to let me in. It took a lot of convincing but I think having the balloons with me helped my case.”

“you didn’t have to do this.” Art says, smile creeping up on his face.

“no I know but i knew it was going to be your first birthday away from your family and i wanted you to know how much you mean to me. i wouldn’t do this for just anyone.” Patrick shrugs saying it so nonchalantly but Art can see the faint blush start to rise on Patrick’s cheeks.

Art couldn’t wipe the smile off his face if he tried. It doesn’t take long for him to see a small birthday cake and neatly wrapped gift box placed on his dresser.

He looks over at Patrick, “no you didn’t.”

Patrick smirks, “what’s a birthday without some cake?”

Art is still looking at Patrick with disbelief.

“well don’t just sit there admiring my beauty, go open your gift.” Patrick says as he pushes Art’s shoulders to get him to stand up.

Art stands up, walking over to the table. He picks up up the box and turns back to face Patrick, “there’s no way you wrapped this.”

Patrick shrugs, “i have my ways.” And by that he meant getting Tashi to wrap it for him because lord knows Patrick can’t wrap for shit.

Art rolls his eyes playing before carefully opening the wrapping paper which reveals a cardboard box. He takes some scissors from his desks and opens the box. Inside is a black picture frame that holds a picture of Art and Patrick right after the won the Junior U.S. Open Doubles Championship. It’s from when they had held up their trophies together, kissing the rims.

Patrick gets up from his place on Art’s bed and comes to stand next to Art. “do you like it?”

Art is starting to feel a little emotional now. Even though it hasn’t been that long since they left MRTA, it had felt like a lifetime since he’s seen Patrick. This picture has him reminiscing to the days where they did everything together. “ya i— i love it.” Art responds trying really hard not to tear up right now.

“nope no tears from the birthday boy, let’s sing happy birthday!” Patrick smiles adding the number ‘19’ candle on top of the cake. He pulls a lighter from his pocket and lights it.

He goes to stand behind Art, resting his chin on Art’s shoulder and his hands around Art’s waist. He starts to sing happy birthday and once the song comes to close he tells Art to make a wish.

Art closes his eyes and thinks about what he could possible wish for because as far as he was concerned, he had everything he wanted right here.