#and would have to decide on what direction to go with it

[shdysders]

too late

pairing: jenna ortega and reader

summary: in which, after weeks of hesitation, you finally decide to tell jenna the truth—only to realize she has plans of her own.

word count: 7.1k

warnings: sensitive topic - lung cancer

authors note: in honor of november being lung cancer awareness month.

It began with a cough.

Not the kind that comes and goes with a cold or allergies, but one that lingered—sharp, persistent, and out of place.

At first, you brushed it off, chalking it up to stress or the changing seasons. But days turned into weeks, and instead of fading, it seemed to grow heavier, like it was pulling something deep from your chest.

You'd ignored it longer than you should have, convincing yourself it was nothing.

Jenna had even teased you about it once or twice, her laughter light and dismissive as she handed you a bottle of water and told you to "take better care of yourself." You'd laughed along with her, but deep down, something about it unsettled you.

When the pain started—a dull ache beneath your ribs every time you took a deep breath—you knew you couldn't ignore it anymore.

That's when you made the call.

The appointment came and went in a blur.

The doctor had been kind but direct, asking questions you couldn't answer with certainty. How long had the symptoms persisted? Had you noticed anything else? Fatigue, weight loss? You'd nodded at some points, shook your head at others, feeling like each response was pulling you further into a place you didn't want to be.

"We'll run some tests," they'd said, their tone neutral, almost too neutral. "Just to be safe."

You'd left the office that day with a sinking feeling you couldn't quite explain, like a storm cloud had settled just over your shoulders. But even then, you told yourself it was nothing.

It had to be.

When the call came, days later, their voice was calm but edged with something you couldn't place.

The voice on the other end, professional but cautious, had asked if you could come in—today. It wasn't a suggestion; it was an urgency wrapped in sterile politeness, and that was when it hit you—that it wasn't nothing.

The drive to the clinic had felt like an eternity. The silence in the car had been unbearable, but every time you'd reached for the radio, your hand had fallen back into your lap. Music felt too loud, too intrusive, as if it would force you to acknowledge the knot in your stomach that had been tightening since the moment you hung up the phone.

The streets blurred past you, familiar landmarks losing their meaning. All you could focus on was the road ahead and the gnawing thought that something was wrong—something worse than you wanted to admit. Your hands had gripped the steering wheel so tightly your knuckles turned white, and at one point, you'd realized you were holding your breath without meaning to.

By the time you'd pulled into the clinic's parking lot, your chest ached—not just from the persistent cough but from the weight of your anxiety.

You'd sat there for a moment, staring at the sliding glass doors, wondering if you could just... drive away. Pretend the call never happened. Pretend nothing was wrong.

But then you'd thought of Jenna. Her face had flashed in your mind—her smile, the way she always seemed to know when something was bothering you, even when you tried to hide it. You couldn't hide this forever, and if you didn't walk in now, it would only get worse.

The waiting room had been quiet, save for the soft hum of a fish tank in the corner and the occasional murmur of voices. You'd checked in at the front desk, the receptionist's cheery smile making your stomach twist, and then found a seat near the window.

The minutes stretched on.

There had been an older man across from you, his hands trembling slightly as he flipped through a magazine he clearly wasn't reading. Beside him, a woman with a scarf tied around her head stared at the floor, her expression distant.

You couldn't stop wondering about their stories—what they were going through, what battles they were silently fighting. Compared to them, your cough and aches felt trivial, like you didn't belong in this space.

You'd convinced yourself, even as you sat there, that you were wasting everyone's time. That whatever was happening to you couldn't possibly be as bad as what these people were enduring.

Maybe it had been an overreaction to come at all, you thought, even though you knew deep down that wasn't true.

When your name was finally called, your heart jumped into your throat. You stood, legs feeling unsteady beneath you, and followed the nurse down a hallway that smelled faintly of disinfectant and something metallic.

She'd led you to a small room and asked you to wait for the doctor, her smile kind but fleeting, as if she knew what was coming.

The seconds ticked by in excruciating silence. Your eyes had scanned the walls, landing on a framed picture of a mountain range, a feeble attempt to make the space feel less clinical. It didn't work.

When the door opened, Dr. Patel had stepped in, clipboard in hand, his face calm but serious. He'd greeted you with a nod, his usual warmth muted, and gestured for you to sit.

You'd perched on the edge of the chair, your hands clenching and unclenching in your lap. Dr. Patel had sat across from you, his gaze steady but unreadable as he placed the clipboard on the desk.

"I wanted to go over the results of your tests," he'd begun, his voice measured, like he was trying to soften the blow before it landed.

He'd turned his computer screen toward you, the image of a scan glowing faintly against the dim light of the room. He'd pointed to an area on the scan, circling it with the cursor as he explained the findings.

The words he used were clinical, detached, but you caught enough to piece it together. Something about nodules, abnormalities, and how the mass in question hadn't been there before.

And then he'd said it. The word you'd been avoiding, the one that made everything crash down around you.

Cancer.

You'd felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. For a moment, you couldn't breathe, couldn't think.

The word echoed in your mind, bouncing around like it didn't belong there. You'd stared at the scan, your eyes unfocused, as Dr. Patel continued to explain the next steps—biopsies, treatments, consultations—but his voice had become background noise.

You hadn't cried, not then. You'd just nodded numbly, your hands gripping the arms of the chair so tightly you thought they might snap. Your chest had tightened, the ache you'd been ignoring now unbearable, but you'd forced yourself to stay still.

When the appointment ended, you'd walked out of the clinic in a daze. The world outside had felt too bright, too normal, like nothing had changed when everything had.

You'd sat in your car for what felt like hours, staring at the steering wheel as the weight of it all pressed down on you. And for the first time, you'd thought about what this meant—not just for you, but for Jenna.

How would you even begin to tell her? How could you?

She was the person you turned to when things felt too heavy, the one who always knew how to make everything seem a little less impossible. But this time... this time felt different.

You'd closed your eyes, leaning your head back against the seat, trying to imagine how the conversation would go. You could see her face so clearly in your mind, the way her brows would furrow, her lips parting as she searched for the right words.

You could almost hear her voice, the way it would waver as she asked, "What does this mean? What do we do?"

And that's where your mind stalled—because you didn't have the answers.

You didn't know what it meant, not really, and you definitely didn't know what to do. The idea of seeing that kind of fear in her eyes, of being the reason her world tilted off its axis, made your stomach twist.

Then there was her work. Jenna had always been busy, but lately, it felt like the world was pulling her in a million directions at once.

She'd been running from set to set, juggling interviews, photo shoots, and endless calls with her team. You'd seen how tired she was, how she tried to hide it behind a bright smile whenever she came home, but you could see the strain in her eyes.

How could you add this to her plate?

The thought hit you like a punch to the gut, the realization settling in with a kind of brutal clarity. If you told her, it wouldn't just be your burden anymore—it would become hers, too. And that wasn't fair. Not when she already had so much to carry.

You'd opened your eyes, staring at the dashboard, trying to convince yourself that waiting wasn't the same as hiding. It wasn't like you were lying to her, not really.

You just needed time to figure things out, to understand what this meant and what came next. Maybe once you had more information, once you knew what the treatment would look like or what the prognosis was, it would be easier to tell her.

Or maybe that was just an excuse.

The truth, the part you didn't want to admit even to yourself, was that you were scared. Not just of the diagnosis, but of what it would do to her.

Jenna was strong—stronger than anyone you'd ever met—but this felt like too much, even for her. You couldn't bear the thought of seeing her break under the weight of it, of watching her world shift because of something you couldn't control.

And then there was the selfish part of you, the part that didn't want to see the pity in her eyes. You didn't want her to look at you differently, to start treating you like you were fragile or broken. You didn't want this to define you, not yet, not in her eyes.

So you'd made the decision, sitting there in the stifling silence of your car. You wouldn't tell her—not now, at least. You'd keep this to yourself, at least until you knew more, until you could figure out how to explain it without falling apart.

It wasn't an easy decision. In fact, it felt like the hardest thing you'd ever done. But as you sat there, the weight of it all pressing down on your chest, it felt like the only choice you had.

You thought that, for now, you'd carry this alone.

But after a while, things felt different.

The days had turned into weeks, and with each passing one, the weight of the secret grew heavier. It wasn't just the diagnosis itself; it was the way it bled into every part of your life, a shadow you couldn't shake.

And Jenna—she'd started noticing.

It was small things at first, things that were easy to dismiss or laugh off.

You'd caught her watching you more closely when you coughed, her brow creasing ever so slightly. "Maybe you should get that checked out," she'd said once, the words half-teasing but laced with genuine concern. You'd waved her off with a smile, promising it was nothing, but the look in her eyes had lingered.

Then there were the nights when you'd felt too drained to do much of anything. Jenna had curled up beside you on the couch, her hand brushing against yours as she asked, "Are you feeling okay? You've seemed... tired lately."

You'd blamed it on work, on stress, on anything but the truth, and she'd let it go—though not without a small frown tugging at her lips.

The tipping point had come a few nights ago, when you'd caught her staring at you in the mirror.

You'd been brushing your teeth, the rhythmic sound filling the quiet bathroom, when you noticed her reflection watching yours. "You've lost weight," she'd said softly, her voice more curious than accusatory.

"I haven't noticed," you'd lied, avoiding her gaze.

She'd hesitated, her arms crossing over her chest as she leaned against the doorframe. "Maybe we should book a check-up or something," she'd suggested, her tone light but her eyes serious.

You'd shrugged it off again, changing the subject, but the way her gaze lingered on you made it clear she wasn't convinced.

And that's what finally pushed you to make the decision. You couldn't keep brushing her off, couldn't keep pretending everything was fine when it clearly wasn't.

She was already worried, even if she didn't fully realize it yet. And sooner or later, she was going to piece things together on her own.

So when she told you she finally had a night free—no calls, no meetings, no obligations—you decided it was time.

The two of you had been planning this date for weeks, trying to carve out time amidst the chaos of her schedule. It wasn't anything extravagant, just dinner at your favorite little spot downtown, but it felt significant in a way you couldn't quite explain.

You told yourself it was the right moment, that you couldn't keep putting this off. You didn't know where this illness would take you next or how much time you had before the symptoms became impossible to hide. The coughs were more frequent now, the fatigue harder to mask. It was only a matter of time before Jenna noticed something you couldn't explain away.

This wasn't how you'd wanted to tell her—not like this, over a quiet dinner on what should've been a happy night. But you didn't see another choice. You couldn't keep lying to her, and you couldn't bear the thought of her finding out some other way.

As you got ready for the evening, the weight of the decision settled over you, heavy but resolute. You weren't sure how you were going to say it or what words you'd use, but you knew it had to be now.

Tonight, you'd tell her.

You'd been rehearsing the words in your head all day, trying to prepare yourself for what felt impossible to say.

But now, sitting in the car, you couldn't ignore the way the air seemed heavier, weighed down by something you couldn't name, and Jenna—Jenna wasn't herself.

She'd been trying to act normal, you could tell. Humming along to the radio, her fingers drumming against the steering wheel like she always did, glancing over at you every so often with what you guessed was meant to be a reassuring smile.

But there was a tension in her movements, a stiffness that wasn't usually there.

It was subtle, barely noticeable if you weren't paying attention. But you were paying attention.

Her hands gripped the wheel a little tighter than usual, her knuckles pale against the leather.

Her gaze lingered too long on the road ahead, as if she was focusing on anything but you. The way she adjusted the air conditioning, even though it didn't need it, or fiddled with her bracelet, slipping it up and down her wrist—these weren't things Jenna usually did.

Your chest felt tight, and not from the illness.

Had she figured it out? Had she found something—a paper you'd forgotten to throw away, maybe, or a note scrawled hastily with an appointment reminder? You'd been so careful, but the thought that you'd slipped up sent a sharp pang of anxiety through you.

You replayed everything in your head, scanning for mistakes, for signs. She hadn't said anything outright, but that only made it worse. If she had found something, she wouldn't confront you about it—not Jenna. No, she'd let it fester, trying to give you space, trying not to pry. But that didn't mean she wouldn't act differently.

And she was acting differently.

Even the silence between you felt louder than it should have, thick and charged with something unspoken. You'd always been able to sit comfortably with her in quiet moments, sharing space without the need to fill it. But this wasn't that. This was an entirely different kind of silence, one that pressed down on you like a weight you couldn't shrug off.

Your mind raced, chasing every possible scenario. Maybe she'd pieced it together herself, noticed more than you thought. Jenna wasn't oblivious.

She'd seen you brush off dinner more often than not, heard the cough that hadn't gone away, seen how you'd flinched the other day when she wrapped her arms around your ribs from behind. She'd even asked, once or twice, if everything was okay.

"You're sure you're fine?" she'd said a few nights ago, her brows knitting together in concern as you forced down a glass of water to stop the coughing fit. You'd laughed, waved her off, told her you'd been pushing yourself too hard at work.

And maybe she'd believed you. Or maybe she hadn't.

The thought gnawed at you as you stared out the window, the glow of passing streetlights streaking across your vision.

You turned to look at her, and for a moment, she felt impossibly far away. She was still Jenna, your Jenna, but there was a distance now, something fragile and strange sitting between you. Her profile was calm, unreadable, her lips pressed into a line that wasn't quite a frown but wasn't a smile, either.

You tried to convince yourself that you were imagining things, that your own guilt and nerves were making you see something that wasn't there. But deep down, you couldn't shake the feeling.

When she finally pulled into the restaurant parking lot and shifted the car into park, she sat there for a moment, her hands still on the wheel.

"You okay?" she asked, her voice steady but quieter than usual.

"Yeah," you answered quickly, too quickly. "You?"

"Of course," she said, the words slipping out a fraction too fast.

Her smile came next, bright but brittle, like it might crack if you looked at it too closely. And as she turned away, unbuckling her seatbelt and reaching for her purse, you caught a glimpse of something in her eyes—hesitation, maybe, or something close to it.

You didn't know what it meant, but it lingered, heavy in your chest, as the two of you made your way inside.

The restaurant was warm and softly lit, the kind of place where the low hum of conversation mixed with the faint clink of silverware on plates. You'd picked it because it was one of your usual spots—familiar, comfortable, with memories stitched into every corner. But tonight, none of that comfort seemed to settle in.

You couldn't stop picturing how the night might unfold, how Jenna might react once you finally told her. Would she cry? Would she be mad—at you, at the world, at herself for not noticing sooner? Would she try to fix it, as if sheer determination could somehow erase what was already happening?

The thought of her being mad was the one that stuck, looping endlessly in your mind. Would she think you'd waited too long to tell her?

Or worse, would she be upset that you'd told her at all, that you'd burdened her with something so heavy when her life was already so full?

You could see it so clearly—her soft features hardening, her voice laced with frustration as she asked why you hadn't come to her sooner. Why you hadn't trusted her enough.

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your nerves from spiraling further out of control. But it didn't help that Jenna was acting off. You'd been together for two and a half years—long enough to notice when something wasn't right. And tonight, something definitely wasn't right.

She was trying, you'd give her that. She smiled when the waiter brought the menus, chatted with him about the specials like she always did, and even reached across the table to brush her fingers lightly over yours. But her smile didn't quite reach her eyes, and her touches felt more like a distraction than a comfort.

When the waiter came back to take your drink orders, she didn't hesitate. "A glass of the house red," she said, her voice steady, almost automatic.

You were about to do the same—it was your thing, after all. A little tradition you'd fallen into on dates like this. But the doctor's voice echoed in your mind: Avoid alcohol, caffeine, anything that might add strain. So instead, you said, "I'll just have a Diet Coke, please."

Jenna's head snapped up, her brows knitting together as she looked at you. "No wine?" she asked, her tone light but curious. "Since when do you skip wine?"

You scrambled for an excuse, heat rushing to your face as you waved it off. "Just... not feeling it tonight. Wanted something lighter."

Her eyes lingered on you for a moment, like she didn't quite believe you but wasn't going to press the issue. "Alright," she said, leaning back in her chair. But there was a flicker of something in her expression—confusion, maybe, or concern. You couldn't tell.

As she turned her attention back to the menu, you tried to steady your breathing, but your chest felt tight. You knew she noticed things, little things, even when you thought you'd been careful. And now you couldn't help but wonder if she was piecing them together in real time, one by one, until the truth clicked into place.

You looked down at your hands, twisting the napkin in your lap as the nerves swirled in your stomach.

You weren't sure how much longer you could keep this up—pretending everything was fine, acting like tonight was just another date. Because it wasn't. And you weren't sure how to tell her that without everything breaking apart.

And still, you couldn't shake the feeling that she already knew.

But you tried to keep the conversation going, forcing yourself to focus on Jenna and not on the crushing weight of your own nerves.

She talked about work, the projects she was excited for, the roles she'd recently turned down. You asked questions, nodded at all the right times, even laughed softly when she mentioned something funny one of her co-stars had done. But the way she was looking at you—it made it impossible to relax.

Her gaze was soft, too soft, like she was trying to protect you with just her eyes.

There was a sympathy there, gentle and unspoken, that only made your stomach churn harder. Did she already know? Had she pieced it all together? The thought gnawed at you, turning every word you said into an effort just to keep up the act.

By the time the food arrived, you were too nervous to eat. The plate in front of you looked like it belonged to someone else—steaming, perfectly plated, entirely untouched.

You picked at it, moving the food around your plate, but your appetite had vanished. Every nerve in your body was screaming, the weight of what you were about to say threatening to crush you.

You didn't understand why. You loved Jenna. You loved her more than you could ever put into words.

She was the reason you smiled when you didn't feel like it, the reason your laughter didn't sound hollow. She was the first person you thought about when you woke up and the last one before you fell asleep. She was your person.

And that's why you had to tell her.

You told yourself that over and over again. This wasn't just about you. Jenna deserved to know. If there was anyone you wanted to be the first to hear, it was her.

Not a friend, not a family member—Jenna. Because no matter how terrifying this was, no matter how much it hurt, she was the one who deserved to know the truth.

You tried to convince yourself that it didn't matter how she'd react, that you'd find a way to deal with whatever came next. Whether she stayed, whether she left, whether she cursed you out for not telling her sooner—it didn't matter.

This illness was a part of you now. There was no escaping it, no undoing it, no pretending it wasn't there. And if Jenna didn't want to stay, you'd have to accept that, too. But you couldn't let her find out some other way. You had to be the one to tell her, no matter how hard it was.

A little while into the dinner, you glanced up from your untouched plate, the words balanced precariously on the tip of your tongue. You were going to tell her. Right now.

But then you noticed Jenna again. She was fiddling with the edge of her napkin, her fingers smoothing and crumpling it over and over.

She hadn't touched her wine glass in minutes, though she'd ordered it with enthusiasm. And when she wasn't fidgeting with the napkin, she was twisting her bracelet up and down her wrist or tapping her nails lightly against the table.

Her nervousness was palpable, radiating off her in waves. And it made you pause.

She looked like she already knew. Like she was bracing herself for something—maybe for you to say it out loud. The realization only made your own nerves spike higher, your throat tightening as you tried to steady yourself.

What if she was waiting for this moment? What if she'd guessed and had been dreading it ever since? It was impossible to tell, but the thought made the words stick in your throat, suddenly too heavy to push out.

You took a shaky breath, gripping the edge of the table to ground yourself, but the question remained, lingering in your mind like a storm cloud: Did she already know.

The silence between you was thick and unyielding, like a barrier you couldn't push through. You stared at your untouched plate, willing yourself to speak, to just get it over with. Your heart hammered in your chest, each beat echoing in your ears, and you felt like you were teetering on the edge of something vast and terrifying.

Just say it, you told yourself. You've rehearsed this a hundred times. Just say it.

But the words didn't come.

Your throat felt dry, the air between you charged with everything unsaid. And then, in that fragile quiet, you finally opened your mouth, the beginnings of your confession trembling on your lips.

"I—"

You barely got the first sound out before Jenna interrupted you.

"I need to talk to you about something."

Her voice cut through the moment like a sharp blade, and your eyes snapped up to meet hers. She froze, realizing she'd interrupted, her brow furrowing in apology.

"Sorry," she said quickly, her hands lifting slightly as if to physically backpedal. "You go first."

The tension in her expression, the nervous energy radiating off her, should've made you more anxious. But instead, you felt a wave of relief so profound it nearly knocked the breath out of you.

You didn't want to say it.

You didn't want to tell her, to put it into words, to make it real. Because once you said it out loud, there'd be no going back.

The illness that had already seeped into every corner of your life, consuming your thoughts and your body, would become something undeniable. And it wasn't just your burden anymore—it would become hers, too.

So you nodded quickly, your voice barely above a whisper. "No, it's okay. You go."

Jenna hesitated, her eyes scanning yours as if to make sure you meant it. Then, with a small, almost imperceptible sigh, she shifted in her seat, her fingers tangling together in her lap.

You watched her, noticing for the first time how truly nervous she looked. Her hands moved constantly, fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve, twisting her bracelet, pressing her palms flat against her thighs.

For a fleeting moment, your mind latched onto something completely irrational: Was she going to propose?

The thought felt absurd, but it burrowed into your brain anyway. The way she was avoiding eye contact, the way her fingers clasped and unclasped like she was gripping something small—it all seemed so... deliberate. Like she was holding onto something important.

You could almost picture it: a velvet box, hidden in her jacket pocket, the hinge creaking as she opened it to reveal something glittering and perfect. Her nervousness would make sense then. Proposing was a big deal, a life-changing moment, and Jenna would want to get it exactly right.

It had to be that. Maybe it was wishful thinking, your mind scrambling for anything to distract you from your own nerves, but for a second, you almost let yourself believe it.

Then Jenna spoke, and it all came crashing down.

She didn't look at you right away. Her gaze dropped to her lap, where her hands were still fidgeting, and she swallowed hard before starting. "I've been thinking about this for a while," she said softly, her voice barely audible over the hum of the restaurant.

Your stomach dropped.

Her words were slow, halting, like she was trying to choose them carefully but wasn't quite sure how. She glanced up at you briefly, her eyes heavy with something you couldn't place—sympathy, maybe, or regret—before looking down again.

"It's just..." She paused, exhaling shakily. "With everything going on—with my career, and the projects, and traveling all the time... it's a lot. And I know it's not fair to you."

You didn't respond. You couldn't.

"I'm barely home," she continued, her voice trembling slightly. "And when I am, I'm... distracted. By work, by everything I have to do. I feel like I'm constantly being pulled in a million different directions, and no matter how hard I try, I can't... I can't give you the time or attention you deserve."

Her hands tightened in her lap, her knuckles pale against her skin. She looked up at you again, forcing herself to meet your gaze even though it clearly took effort.

"You've been so patient with me," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "So understanding, even when I didn't deserve it. And I hate that. I hate that I've let things get to this point, where I feel like I'm failing you."

She gulped, her Adam's apple bobbing as she struggled to steady herself. "I've been thinking about this for a long time," she repeated, almost as if she was trying to convince herself now.

The words hung heavy between you, suffocating in their weight.

"I just... I think it's for the best if we—if we break up."

The final words came out like a whisper, but they might as well have been a shout. They echoed in your head, over and over, until they drowned out everything else.

She was still looking at you, her expression raw and vulnerable, waiting for you to say something—anything. But you couldn't.

Because in that moment, it felt like the ground had opened up beneath you, pulling you into a freefall you couldn't escape.

For a moment, you couldn't even process what she'd said. It didn't feel real, couldn't feel real. The restaurant around you blurred into nothing—voices faded into static, the clinking of plates and glasses became a distant hum. All you could hear was the sound of her words echoing in your mind.

Break up.

You blinked, and suddenly your throat was tight, your chest heavy, and your vision stung with tears threatening to spill over. You tried to swallow, but it felt like there was a lump lodged in your throat, growing bigger with every second of silence that passed.

All you could manage was a quiet, broken, "Oh."

It was barely a sound, barely anything at all, but it carried everything. All the confusion, the hurt, the disbelief—it was packed into that one syllable that trembled out of you. And the moment it escaped, you felt like you were collapsing from the inside out.

Your hands trembled slightly as they rested on your lap, and you clenched them into fists to steady yourself.

But it didn't work. Your chest felt like it was caving in, your stomach churning violently as if you were going to be sick. You suddenly felt more ill than you'd ever felt before, like every bit of strength you had left was being drained out of you all at once.

You blinked again, and a tear slid down your cheek before you even realized you were crying.

Jenna didn't look away.

Her gaze stayed locked on you, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears, and that only made it worse. It made your chest tighten further, your throat burn hotter. Because why was she crying? Why was she crying?

If she thought this was the right thing to do, if she believed that breaking up was the solution, then why did she look like she was on the verge of breaking, too?

The thought stirred something sharp and bitter in your chest—something close to anger.

You didn't want to be angry, not at her. You loved her more than anything, more than yourself, more than anything you'd ever known in this world. But in that moment, it bubbled up anyway, unbidden and ugly.

How could she say this was for the best and look like she was about to cry? How could she sit there, tearing you apart with her words, and act like she felt guilty about it? Like she didn’t want to do this but was doing it anyway.

If she didn't want to do it, then why was she?

Your hands unclenched, trembling as you wiped hastily at your face, trying to erase the tears that kept coming. But it was no use. They kept falling, hot and relentless, leaving tracks down your cheeks that you couldn't hide, even if you tried.

"Okay," you whispered, though it wasn't okay. Nothing was okay. But you didn't have anything else to say. Your mind felt blank, empty except for the deafening echo of her words and the ache that spread through your chest like wildfire.

Your lips parted like you were about to say more, but nothing came out. There was so much you wanted to ask, to scream, to cry, but the weight of it all held you frozen. You could only sit there, staring at her through the blur of your tears, wondering how it had come to this.

Why now? Why like this? Why, after everything you'd been through together, was this the moment it all fell apart?

Your heart felt like it was breaking, splintering into a million pieces you didn't know how to put back together.

You stared at her, searching her face for something—anything—that might explain this, that might soften the blow. But all you saw was sadness and guilt and resolve. And that, more than anything, made you feel like you might throw up.

You didn't know how to respond—what could you say? Everything felt so wrong, so heavy, and all you could do was sit there, your throat too tight to speak, your heart too shattered to form words.

And Jenna, maybe out of nervousness or guilt—or both—began to ramble again. Her voice was softer now, tinged with a slight tremor, like she was trying to steady herself but couldn't quite manage it.

"I—I've just been thinking about this a lot," she said, her words spilling out in a way that didn't quite connect. "With... everything. My work, how busy it's been, and I don't know. I've been trying to figure it out, and it's like—like maybe it's just too much."

Her fingers fidgeted in her lap, twisting her rings and pressing into her palm as if she could ground herself that way.

Her gaze flicked up to you, then away, then back again. She looked like she was searching for something—understanding, forgiveness, anything—but couldn't seem to hold your eyes for more than a second at a time.

"It's not that I don't care," she added quickly, almost desperately, her words tripping over themselves. "You know I do. You know I care about you so much, and that's why—" She stopped mid-sentence, pressing her lips together hard, her brows furrowing like she didn't know how to finish the thought.

Her voice was uneven when she started again. "I just—everything's so complicated right now. With filming, with traveling, and—and I feel like..." Her words faltered again, and she let out a shaky breath, her shoulders sagging as if the weight of her own thoughts was too much.

Her sentences were fragmented, scattered, like she didn't fully know how to explain herself. It wasn't an argument, wasn't a definitive declaration—it was just... messy.

And that made it worse.

Because nothing she was saying felt concrete, nothing felt like a real reason. It was all just vague, unfinished thoughts that left you sitting there, trying to piece together what she actually meant. Trying to figure out if she even knew what she was saying.

Jenna swallowed hard, her throat bobbing as she glanced down at her lap again. "I don't know how else to say it," she murmured, almost to herself, her voice barely audible.

But that didn't make it any clearer.

All you could do was sit there, still frozen, still unable to speak, as she rambled on, her words tangling together in a way that felt more like she was trying to convince herself than explain anything to you.

And it felt like every word she said was chipping away at something inside you, leaving you raw and exposed and aching.

You couldn't even process the idea of why she was doing this, because she wasn't giving you a reason—she was just... saying things. Vague, messy things that didn't feel like they added up to anything but heartbreak.

"What were you going to say?" She asked, clearly getting the point of her rambling not helping anybody at the table. You felt your stomach twist violently. Her tone was soft, hesitant, like she was trying to patch the cracks she'd just shattered into existence, but it only made everything worse.

You stared at her, your heart thudding heavily in your chest. Was she serious? Did she really think she could just ask that now—after everything—and act like it hadn't happened? Like you weren't sitting here, choking on the weight of her words, trying to make sense of it all?

You couldn't believe it. And yet, part of you could. This was so her—to try and smooth it all over, to shove the pieces of normalcy back into place even when it was painfully obvious they didn't fit anymore. But you could see it in her face, in the way her lips trembled and her eyes flicked nervously over your expression. She knew it wasn't working. She knew this was ridiculous.

Still, you couldn't answer right away. Because, what could you even say?

What you were going to say—what you needed to say—wasn't something you could tell her now. Not after this. Not after she'd sat across from you and torn everything apart, leaving you to sit here, raw and exposed, trying to make sense of her fragmented reasoning.

You couldn't tell her. You couldn't tell her that you were sick. Because now it would look like a desperate attempt to make her stay, to guilt her into taking it all back. And that was the last thing you wanted.

No—more than that, it would make it real. Actually real. Saying the words out loud, to her of all people, in this moment, would make it something you couldn't take back. And you weren't ready for that. You weren't ready for any of it.

"It was nothing," you muttered, your voice flat and quiet, barely recognizable as your own. You stared at the table, refusing to meet her eyes, because the weight of her gaze was too much to bear. "Just... nothing important."

You hoped she'd leave it at that, though you could tell from the way her expression softened into something unbearably sympathetic that she didn't believe you. She was probably going to ask again, probably going to try to dig deeper, but you couldn't give her more. Not now. Not like this.

She didn't press you for more, but the silence that followed felt louder than anything she could have said. You didn't look at her, didn't dare, because you knew what you'd see—concern, confusion, maybe even guilt—and you couldn't take it. Not after everything.

You tried to focus on the table in front of you, the half-empty glass of soda that had gone warm, the plate of untouched food that suddenly felt miles away. But your mind wouldn't stop racing.

This wasn't how you'd imagined it. None of it.

All the words you'd rehearsed, the courage you'd spent all day building, the carefully planned moment—it was gone now, swept away like it had never existed. And no matter how much you wanted to, no matter how desperately you wished you could take it all back, it was too late.

Too late to say what you'd come here to say. Too late to stop what she'd said instead. Too late to fix whatever had been shattered between you tonight.

And now, you'd have to face it all alone.

The waiting rooms. The cold sterility of hospital walls. The appointments that stretched on longer than the days themselves. You'd prepared yourself for those things, or at least tried to, but you'd never prepared for doing it without her.

You couldn't blame her. You wouldn't. But that didn't make it hurt any less.

You swallowed hard, willing the tears to stay put, and reached for your glass, if only to give your hands something to do. The carbonation fizzed on your tongue, sharp and bitter, but you barely tasted it.

And as Jenna's gaze lingered on you, hesitant and uncertain, you told yourself the same thing you'd been trying to believe all night.

You would be fine. You had to be.

Because now, it was too late to say otherwise.

[shoresoftheshadowlands]

What a post for me to see today.

This morning, in between the heavy rain, during a few hours of sunshine during a storm, I decided to get myself a little treat and ordered breakfast delivery. I am going to say right now, I am in California. In mountainous area and moderate forest and lakes.

I was standing outside waiting for my order, as you do, I see the guy clearly miss my driveway and go the long way around, he calls me and I tell him I saw him, give him directions back the other way around and while I'm on the phone

I feel a sense of being a prey animal in the sights of a predator. If you have never had this feeling come over you, it is like the feeling of being watched but with malicious intent that you can FEEL.

I turn carefully and look-

And there's a fucking EMU. She is staring at me. How did she sneak up on me it was dead silent, I was on the phone less than ten seconds, and she was surely there before the phone rang.

It occurs to me that at some point my mother mentioned the neighbors have an emu on their property- Something I haven't heard in like two years and since I've been away from home, you know it's not something you would remember two years later at 7am in silent hill fuckin fog and gray skies.

It reminded me of all those people who say fluffy feathered dinos wouldn't be scary like are you for real right now dudes?! She was harmless and she spooked me on sheer audacity of me not seeing a bird taller than I am sneaking up on crunchy leaf litter.

[nightingale-prompts]

Do NOT Touch a God- DC x DP Prompt (Tim x Danny)

Correction: don't touch Danny.

A rule has been added to the house rules of Titans Tower. It started after the arrival of the summoning of the interdimensional teen that takes residence there.

Despite being only a teenager the power he held was at the level of a god. He causally reshaped reality around him to his liking. Rooms are made bigger on the inside but remain the same outside. Danny's hate for things getting too dirty made all clothes left on the floor for too long disappear into the laundry room and spilled drinks evaporate. The tower became self-cleaning as everything found its place on its own. Danny said it was just what he prefers, lab safety and all that. Sometimes Danny would turn off gravity, no reason be just likes it like that.

Unfortunately, he doesn't go on missions except for extreme situations where he is needed. He is content to spend his time in the med bay as the resident healer. He is also one of the few that can fix up Cyborg. Danny doesn't get involved unnecessarily. This has led to a few arguments in the past over how unhelpful he can be despite being able to help them. Danny shrugs it off and disappears when it happens. It was not fair on him, if he didn't want to fight he shouldn't have to. He was an asset and he offered his help freely.

So why does the No Touch rule exist? Well, Danny doesn't like touching people. He wears gloves for a reason especially when he is working in the bay fixing up everyone after a mission. He also avoids others touching him, shrinking away when someone tried.

Everyone respected that boundary but after a rough mission in particular Kon started an argument with him. The injuries were severe and he was just mad that M'gann was hurt. Danny was already overwhelmed with healing everyone and Kon seemed to strike a nerve. When Kon almost made contact with him Danny flickered out of existence and reappeared further away.

After several hours of fixing broken bones and open wounds Danny retreated.

Tim decided to check on him later. Kon was sorry for overreacting and blaming Danny for something he couldn't control but Danny probably didn't want to see him right now.

Danny looked worse for wear when he opened the door. He looked tired, weary from using his energy. He wrapped a blanket around himself.

They talked for a while. Mostly about nothing important, other times about how stressful things were right now.

Tim often found it hard to believe that Danny wasn't just a normal teen. Then again, what did he know about normal?

But he had wondered something.

He reached out and tried to hold Danny's hand but Danny moved away quickly noticing.

"You shouldn't do that." He said simply.

Had he been Dick he would repect the boundaries and if he was Jason he'd probably agree. But he was Tim and Tim was very bad at boundaries. That's kind of how he got here.

"Why not?" Tim asked.

"It might be too much," Danny said cautiously eyeing Tim who held his hands up.

"Try me."

Danny sighed and removed one of his gloves and touched his hand to Tim's shoulder.

All at once different sensations filled his senses. A comforting touch of a friend, a light fluttering of a passing stranger on the street, a strike of a hated rival, the steady hand of a family member, the playful tap of a classmate, the caress of a lover...all at once. Each feeling is defined but also blurred. It was almost like being pulled in thousands of directions as they tried to claim a part of Tim into their reality.

A single touch sent him into a trace. When Danny pulled away he expected to have broken Tim like how a child accidentally snaps their toys when playing. He knew his touch could overwhelm people almost to death. Clockwork said he'd be able to control it some day but Danny didn't even want to test it. Being able to fracture someone's mind was scary. Seeing it happen once was enough. So why did he try it on Tim? Did he not care what happened to him?

It's a bit selfish and embarrassing to admit but...not being able to touch another person was awful. He's not clingy but it feels like he has lacked sensation for a long time. Tim willingly asked for this and Danny wanted this as well.

Tim wasn't broken. Infact he had never felt more alive. When Danny removed his hand he found himself pulling it back to him. He couldn't explain it but it felt like...everything. Indescribable but amazing. It was contradictory but all of it made sense.

"Do it again!"

Things kind of escalated from there. It would probably be crass to even say it but let's just say that neither was lacking sensation. It was profound, not purely physical nor emotional, something else entirely. The religious sort would call it divine or a blessing, perhaps it was what heaven feels like. Others would call it sinful, partaking in things no human was meant to know or experience. The folly of humanity.

It was certainly addictive though. Whispered words echoed in every tongue. With every contact a new chorus created. The memories of long dead god flashed and worlds yet unawakened showed themselves. And just when it seemed like everything in the universe had collided and finally made sense...it was over.

There was a knock on the door.

Danny managed to roll the breathless, Tim off with a groan. He stretched feeling a bit locked up. He had been holding each other for a while now.

He opened the door and saw Kon standing there nervously.

"Look, Im sorr-"

"Danny?" Tim called out groggily interrupting whatever Kon was saying.

"I'm busy," Danny said quickly closing the door to go back to...you know.

(So were they having sex or just cuddling? I have no fucking idea and I wrote this. I feel like it's a secret third that is somehow worse.)

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I wanna see what’s Ace’s family’s reaction when they found out Ace is dating reader Heheheh

I decided to have only Ace's brother present, since Mr. and Mrs. Trappola have yet to receive strong characterization.

Family means Nobody is Left Behind or Forgotten.

The Trappola brothers sat across from one another upon red velvet chairs, and you, between them. They were both intently focused on building a house of playing cards—a task that Ace had warned took “serious patience, coordination, and a gentle touch.” (You had rolled your eyes and responded, “Great. You let me know when you’ve found someone that has all that.”)

Ace carefully laid a Two of Spades down, formed a triangle with a Three of Clubs and a Four of Diamonds. His hand slowly retreated, and the triangle stayed. He expelled a sigh, directed away from the cards so as to not disturb them.

You would have clapped for him, but Ace had discouraged you before the game had even started. So instead, you tapped your index and middle fingers together. Still giving applause, but not nearly enough to rattle the house of cards.

“Your move.”

“Huh, you’ve gotten better at this,” his brother mused. He toyed with an Ace of Hearts, expertly twirling it between dexterous fingers. “Too bad. I was really looking forward to smoking you in front of your new friend.”

“In your dreams,” Ace sneered, passing you a glance. “The last thing I’d want is to look uncool in front of my partner.”

His brother drew himself up in his seat. The card in his hand, stilling. “Your partner? Since when were you two a thing?”

“Oh, you know… since a while ago,” Ace casually replied. “And honestly, I can’t really blame’m. Who wouldn’t fall for my dashing good looks and roguish charm? I’m a catch!”

His brother regarded you with an almost pitying look. “It’s not too late to change your mind,” he advised.

You burst into laughter. "I think I'm good. Ace is an idiot, but he's at least my idiot."

He raised an eyebrow. "So you've got a sense of humor. You'll need that if you're going to put up with Ace all of the time. Congrats, you passed the first test."

"Whaddya mean 'put up with' me?!" Ace protested, puffing up his cheeks. A pout--adorable, you think.

"I mean it exactly how I said it. It's practically a full-time job dealing with you," his brother replied cheekily. "You gotta prepare people for it, or else they won't know what they've signed up for."

"Oh, come on! You're making me sound way worse than I actually am."

"This, coming from the guy who ghosted his ex?" He smirked, and you could see the family resemblance in it. The slight narrowing of the eyes, the way his mouth angled. "I dunno, I was half expecting you to stay single forever after that royal screw-up, lil' bro. You're lucky you found someone willing to take you~"

Pink exploded onto Ace's cheeks. "H-Hey...!" he hissed, leaning toward his brother. "Did you seriously have to bring that up?! Have a little more tact, will ya?!"

The older Trappola grinned. "Gotcha."

You realized why.

Ace's sudden movement had sent a slight breeze against the card house. It wobbled from top to bottom--then the structure collapsed in on itself, the cards all folding into one another. Within seconds, the house was a pile on the coffee table.

Ace fell to his knees with a pathetic wail, scrambling to salvage his hard work. His brother looked on, chuckling. A card, still in his hand.

"I didn't place mine yet," he declared triumphantly, "and since you made the house fall, it's technically my win!"

"Y-You sneaky...! You taunted me on purpose!!"

"Yeah, and it worked like a charm." He flicked Ace on the forehead. "You were too busy trying to flex in front of your S/O. It was easy to take advantage of that. You always were a cocky, predictable brat."

"Grrrrr..!!"

"Ace, it's fine," you soothed him, a hand on his arm. "You did your best. It doesn't change how I feel about you."

"Tch, there you go being all sappy again... You're so lame sometimes," Ace grumbled--but he covered your hand with his. A small gesture, but a reassuring one.

"Hahah, look at you two lovebirds," his brother teased, wagging a finger at you. Then he reached out and roughly ruffled Ace's hair, despite his complaints and attempts to swat him away. "Happy for you though, lil' bro! You gotta tell me how this love story started--"

[nuemanfilms]

DOE-EYED BOY S.W

Summary Dean drops Sam off at the Harvelle Roadhouse after a vamp nest. The older Winchester isnt oblivious about Sam’s feelings towards you, he just thinks his brother needs a little push.

Content warnings SMUT!! piv, dirty talk, pet names (Angel, Sweetheart, baby, Sweet girl.), Fem!Harvelle!Reader, based on Jo & Dean from s2, Reader is Ellen’s daughter, semi-public sex, ?rough? sex, Fear of getting caught, teasing, creampie, Dean being an ass, slight plot + more.

notes wow, I have so many ideas and this is one that I actually completed!! 1200+ words.

xoxo, roro!

——

After a vampire nest, Sam and Dean stopped at the Harvelle Bar. Yeah, the motel was in the complete and opposite direction of where your bar was, but Dean knew, despite Sam not admitting it, that he wanted to see you.

Dean tried to hit on you first with cheesy pickup lines, but you didn’t have eyes for Dean. The younger Winchester was more in your view. He was doe-eyed, his brown locks were shaggy, along with his shyness around you in general. He was educated though, he was intelligent. He was skilled as well, you could see why he was the one who made the plans most of the time on hunts.

You became close with the other brother, the doe eyed boy captivating in almost every way.

The Impala came to a halt outside the bar. Sam’s head perked up, his eyes immediately narrowing at his brother.

“Dean-“ The older Winchester cut him off, “C’mon, Sammy! Go talk to her.” Dean had that smug, classic smirk on his face. Sam knew Dean wouldn’t leave it, or back off about it. So, he got out of the car and walked through the door. Dean muttered something inaudible under his breath that Sam couldn’t quite make out. He wasn’t sure he wanted to, though.

When the door pushed open, signaling the bell to ring, your head perked up. The smile that curled up on your lips was contagious, one forming on his as well.

The bar was empty, Sam had a feeling your mother was upstairs since she wasn’t located in the area. Even with a dirty apron wrapped around your hips, you looked beautiful. Sam already had the urge to brush that stray hair out of your eyesight.

“Sorry, we just got out of a Vamp nest and Dean decided to come here so-“ His eyebrows raised when he was cut off with your lips pressing against his. He froze for a moment, before melting into it. He could feel your smile against his lips.

Sam pulled back just a mere inch away from your lips so he could speak, “What about Ellen?-“

“If you’re scared of my mother, she’s upstairs.” You teased, your hand reached down to interlock with his. Pulling him to the backroom behind the bar area.

Once the door shut (louder than it should’ve been), Sam met your lips again. Leading you over to the desk in the middle of the room. He lowered you down onto it, without disconnecting your lips.

Your hand slid the Carhartt jacket off his shoulders while Sam clumsily fiddled with the buttons of your jeans. He spoke again, “Lift your hips f’ me, Angel.” You obliged quicker than you would to do a chore.

Sam slid your jeans off your body, leaving them discarded on the floor. His fingers slid down to your clothed core, instantly feeling the arousal that soaked through your panties. He let out a groan, “Fuck, baby… you’ve been waiting for me?” Sam only got more desperate when he heard your whine. When your hands went to fumble at his belt, he assisted you. Sliding the leather out of its loops and unzipping his jeans quickly.

Your eyes looked up at his, your lips were parted slightly. You trailed your hand into his boxers, Sam let out a hiss at the contact. He was so hard already, and he didn’t think he would last for any foreplay.

“As much- as much as I’d love it, can’t wait, Sweetheart…” Before you could even mutter out a reply, a moan ripped from your throat when Sam flipped you onto your stomach. His fingers teasingly tracing the hemline of your panties before he finally pulled them down. You clenched around nothing just at the cold air hitting your cunt.

Sam wrapped a hand around his length as he guided himself closer to you. His tip brushed up and down your slick entrance.

“God- you’re soaked, baby… ��s because of me? Or ‘cause you know your mom could come down and see us?” You mewled at his teasing, “Please… Please I can’t wait anymor-“ The moan that came from you was so loud, so pornographic. Sam was stretching you in half… and he was only slightly past the tip. Sam groaned as he sheathed himself inside of you, watching each inch of his cock fitting snugly inside of your pussy.

Sam’s hand slapped against your mouth, trying his best to muffle your noises.

“You’re so loud, Sweet girl… you want us to get caught? You want someone to see my dick inside of this pretty little hole? Stretching it wide?” Sam let out a moan when you squeezed him, despite his dirty talk on being quiet, he wasn’t doing any better. He gave you a few more moments to adjust before he pulled out and slammed back in.

The vulgar whines and cries of his name falling from your parted lips had Sam feeling as if he could combust at any moment. The cool metal of the desk against your stomach made you shiver.

Sam’s thrusts were rapid, rough. He was chasing his own orgasm, using your body like a sexdoll. And you didn’t mind it, fuck, you loved it. You loved it more than you should’ve.

“Mm- Sammy… ‘s so good, need it- auh! Need it harder…” You pleaded with him, Sam let out a dark chuckle at that. You were getting off on this, getting off on his dick slamming in and out of your cunt, on how he used you like you were nothing but a whore.

“Fuck- you want it harder, baby? Shit, i’m gonna give you it.” He said between heavy breaths. Both of your breathing combined was harsh and heavy. And the way you were squeezing around Sam, gave him a clear idea of how much you wanted this.

Your whimpers and whines became more pitched, more frequent. Not that far away from each noise you made. You were close, and that drove Sam to move faster. His hips were set to a bruising pace, and the grip he had on your own was hard. Designed to leave a mark of this encounter.

“Fill me up, Sammy.. I wan’- wan’ to feel it. Need to feel your cum inside me... ple-ase!” The plea was so broken sounded. You sounded like you were on the verge of tears as he destroyed you. Sam grunted hearing your plead for him, just the words you spoke had him pulsing.

He groaned again, “Yeah- Yeah… that’s it. Gonna let me fuck it into this pussy, huh? Need my fucking kids, don’t you?” You nodded, saliva smeared on your lips and the corner of your mouth. Your brain turning to mush.

Your orgasm hit you hard, your vision blinking white as you let out a broken scream of pleasure. Sam followed behind you, moaning at the sensation.

He was careful when he pulled out, your mixed juices threatening to spill. Sam didn’t hesitate in lifting his middle finger and shoving it back inside of your abused cunt. You let out a whimper at the sudden intrusion.

Sam helped you put your clothes back on before he did his own, he constantly kept asking if you were okay or if it was too much.

“Did I do too much- hurt you or anything? You’re okay right-“ You cut him off with a smile, “It was perfect, Sam. You didn’t do anything, I promise.” Sam sighed in relief, before a thought came to his mind.

“You’re sure your mom didn’t hear…?”

[teaandcrowns]

fanfiction.net also send emails, though the site itself has devolved into a hot mess imo.

I think there's a really important conversation to be had here around the type of content-as-content that social media has pushed and pushed and pushed on people the last decade or so, to instill some implication that something has to be recent, current, brand shiny new, in order to be worthwhile or worth giving deeper connection and attention to. Content-as-text*, if you will.

Written works—which include fanfiction, yes—are as permanent fixtures as we can get of content-as-text, and they are evergreen in allowing for connection and engagement, and fanfiction is open to this in particular with the capability of comments (and direct messaging).

I think there's another element to this regarding how engagement with content-as-content, which does not seem to encourage in-depth interaction, lengthy discussion, or a series of back and forths between creators and audience or even between members of the audience. Content-as-text, in my mind, is much more encouraging of that, and was also heavily encouraged by Web 1.0 primarily with forums and early Web 2.0 with interactive blogging-forum sites like LiveJournal. Web 3.0, with its focus on constant generation of content (as content), summarily leaves the space and, I would argue more importantly, time for longer and deeper interaction and engagement in its proverbial dust; it is not concerned with how people actually feel about the content so long as they are still consuming the content.

This brings me to a thought concerning what I, and others, have noted as a lack of what I have frequently seen termed "curating your fandom experience." Algorithms now decide what to content-as-content to show based off what you have seen before. There are (virtually) no more chronological feeds. You can only "sleep" functions rather than say, "No." In short, you are no longer the one with the most agency in your online experience if you choose to use or be on certain sites. If this has been someone's primary modality of interacting with any kind of fandom spaces (or any online community spaces), there can almost be no way to have true organic community the way humans have always made community and made connections. You are not encouraged to view something older as still relevant, you are not encouraged to curate your own spaces because you are being given things based off a calculation of your activity, whether or not that is accurate. It's become a commodification of our attention, because so long as we keep consuming, they will keep the conveyor belt of content-as-content churning and turning.

This is a very circumlocutious and somewhat long-winded way of saying that we need to start taking back our spaces, our time, and our attention. Don't sort AO3 by most kudos or most comments; try sorting by first uploaded. Try not sorting at all (after you apply your preferred filters) and go five, ten, twenty pages deep to see what you find. Interact with the content-as-text as it moves you. Choose who you want to follow—use the "blogs you follow" tab on tumblr instead of the "recommended for you." Engage meaningfully with other members of your communities and find others through those connections instead. Use fanfic rec lists made by folks; make your own and share them. Take back your attention, your time, and your spaces.

*by "text" I mean anything that we can experience, read, or view as an audience and think and interact deeply about across modalities, not just written word

not to be "comment on fanfic even if they are oooold"

But I just read a pretty good fic published in 2014-2015 (you know, roughly TEN YEARS AGO) and I was like, damn this is so cool, I have to leave a comment, even if you know, they probably wont see it...

The author replied less than an hour later.

[burrowdarling]

Take It Easy

Summary: With everything that's gone on this season, you decided Joe deserved some much needed time away.

Pairings: Joe Burrow x gf!reader

Warnings: implied smut minors DNI

Note: Hi! I was finally able to get around to the request from this anon. I hope you enjoy it! Some good ole bye-week comfort with some steam.

Word Count: 2k

Check out my Masterlist here!

It had taken quite a fair bit of convincing, but you were all packed up heading a few hours away to a cabin with a couple other guys from the team and their significant others. Joe was beside you in the driver's seat, making you passenger with Sam and Jess passed out in the back. Evan and Gracie were in another car about 15 minutes ahead. Your trunk was filled with all of the supplies you could possibly need for the weekend with a few more hours on the road ahead of you. 

After how you’d seen Joe beat himself up this past week, you knew you had to do something to take his mind off of things. A trip like this has been something you’d wanted to do for a bit, but the bye week felt like the right time to get everyone rest for the remainder of the season. Joe was reluctant at first, still heading to the facility at the start of the bye week, head strong and adamant that he needed to be doing everything he could to get the team in shape. You’d had to talk him through things, getting him to understand that his body needed a break and having a few of the guys could help him to talk to other people who would get it. He’d only agreed to a few days, but you still took that as a win in your book. 

You knew he was trying so hard, carrying so much weight of the team on his shoulders. It was a burden he could only hold alone for so long before it did him in. Joe didn’t relax much during any typical season, but this felt like a special exception to his strict routine. You were trying to drill into him that rest was just as productive and all of the other components he prides himself on.

Joe was lightly drumming along to the beat of the song softly playing from the speakers, your music left on shuffle from earlier in the drive. You were excited to get away with everyone, knowing the guys needed a break during the bye week and what better way to spend it than up in mountains unplugged for a few days. His right hand found its way to your thigh, light stroking you out of your thoughts. 

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” Joe asked, glancing in your direction. He looked so soft like this, wearing a hoodie and sweats with his hair down. His expression was calm, any signs of stress that had been showing on his face weren’t currently evident. You hadn't gotten to see him like this much recently, taking him in while you had the chance. 

“I was just thinking about how nice this trip is going to be. I’m really glad you agreed to go, I wanted to be able to do something nice for you and figured this was a perfect time to go”.

Joe sighed, humming constantly as his hand gently squeezed your thigh three times. It was a signal you both can come up with during your early days of dating, a nonverbal way to say ‘I love you’ and a simple reminder you were there for that person. The gesture brought a small smile to your face.

“I’m glad we invited some of the guys, but I can’t wait until I can get you alone” Joe spoke, keeping his voice low in case anyone had woken up. His voice held a rasp and desire that would cause you to fold right there in any other circumstance.

You felt Joe's hand begin to climb your thigh, sliding closure to the apex of your thighs. You placed your hand on top of his, applying a bit of pressure to halt his movements.  

“Slow your roll cowboy, we're not even there yet” you spoke chuckling.

“Cowboy? I’d gladly save a horse and let you ride me any day” Joe said with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows. He looked over at you, tipping his nonexistent hat to really seal the deal. You couldn’t help, but laugh at his antics. Joe

You lightly patted him on the shoulder, rolling your eyes in his direction with a smile on your face “yeah, yeah focus on the road so we get there in one piece”. 

“Yes ma’am” he said with a short nod, turning his attention back to the road ahead.

By the time you had arrived, it had gotten late and you all were ready to get everything in and turn in for the night. You tried to do everything as efficiently as possible, creating a system of the guys bringing everything while you and the girls got it all sorted out inside. Once the last thing was brought in, the guys began to explore the place you had booked. You tried to keep as much of it as a surprise for Joe as you could, keeping the details limited.

The cabin itself was nice, a cozy feel hitting you immediately. There were plenty of bedrooms for everyone, a pool table in the living room, finished with a fireplace. There would be plenty of room in the kitchen to cook for the weekend, opting to stay in as much as possible to really unwind. Downstairs there was a small room that led out to a patio hosting a hot tub, the main thing that had really sold you on this place specifically. You could tell by the vibe it was going to be a nice few days getaway with each other even if you weren’t completely alone. 

You and the girls got to cooking, the guys finding enjoyment out of the pool table. You could feel yourself getting lost in your thoughts again as your eyes fell on Joe, leaning against the table laughing and joking around with his friends. When it was his turn to play, he bent over and steadied the pool stick expertly between his fingers. Joe���s hands were always something that you had found attractive and this instance was no exception. You knew exactly what those hands were capable of, causing a shiver of desire to run down your spine. The look of focus on his face completed the narrative you were writing in your mind, making your thoughts not so innocent. 

You were snapped out of it by a bump to the hip by Gracie, coming back into the moment and food you were preparing in front of you. A knowing look had crossed her face followed by a wink as she went back to what she was doing.

“It’s good to see him with a smile on his face again” Jess said, you nodded in agreement. Joe’s happiness was contagious, leaving you to finish your cooking with a wide smile on your face.

Everyone finished up dinner, deciding to head to bed and be ready for the day ahead. 

“I really wanna go enjoy that hot tub before bed, we had such a long drive and it’d be nice to unwind just the two of us” 

“I’d like that, I also brought that one suit you really like” you said with a mischievous grin plastered across your face and you made your way down the hall to your room.

“The red one?” Joe called after you, sounding eager.

“You’ll just have to wait and see Burrow” you said, tossing his suit out and closing the door behind you.

By the time you made your way down to the hot tub, Joe was already there getting everything set. You stepped out onto the patio, the sounds of the door closing alerting Joe to your presence. Joe let out a low whistle at the sight of you, letting his eyes rake up and down your barely covered body.

“You’re absolutely breathtaking sweetheart” Joe said, extending his hand to help you get into the hot tub. 

“Thank you babe, you know I had to bring your favorite” you told him, stepping into the hot tub and letting out a moan at the sensation of hot water and got comfortable.

Joe got in after, settling on the opposite side of the tub and letting his shoulders drop at the feeling of hot water relaxing the tension in his muscles. He let his eyes close, fully submitting himself to relaxation, a groan escaping his lips. The sounds he was making had you clenching your thighs together, still feeling worked up from earlier. You loved seeing Joe when he got worked up, but you also loved these moments when he was able to be unguarded with you. 

“C’mere, I feel like you’re so far away from me” Joe said, lifting his arms out of the water to gesture you over.

You swam over next to him, gently pushing his shoulders to turn him to the side and settled your hands onto his shoulders. You began massaging his muscles, leaving tender kisses across the top of his back, hearing the soft sigh escape his lips.

“I know I don’t tell you enough, but I appreciate all that you do for me. You're my biggest supporter in my corner and I want you to know how loved you are. I know I don’t always show it ” Joe said quietly.

“Of course Joey, loving you is the easiest thing I have ever done. Watching you get to do what you love for a living every week is one of my favorite things. You go out on that field and put your entire soul into it. I know you’re doing everything you can Joey and I know everything will work out eventually” you said, hoping he would take on some of the confidence in your words.

Joe wordlessly spun you around to face him, lifting you onto his lap. His hands fell to your ass, giving it a gentle squeeze while your arms settled around his neck, your lips connecting in a passionate kiss. 

“I really don’t know what I'd do without you sweetheart. You’re my rock, my safe place, there’s no one else I’d rather come home to every night” Joe said, his lips finding your neck trailing kisses down to your collarbone. 

“I’m right there with you, Joey, you have no idea” your words trailing off as he continued his assault with his mouth, biting and sucking your throat to the possibility of leaving marks.

He used the leverage to ground you into his lap, feeling his growing erection beneath you. A gasp caught in your throat, Joe taking the opportunity to let his tongue find its way into your mouth, fighting for dominance.

“That feel good, baby? I want you to feel just what you do to me "Joe groaned out, eliciting a whimper from you.

This was the sweet friction you’d been craving from him all night, letting your head fall back as pleasure overtook you. This only spurred Joe on more, watching how he was able to make you feel as good as you were. Seeing you fall deeper into your desire only made Joe grind harder against your clothed center. It was getting harder and harder for him to control himself, his patience thinning. You brought your head back up, leaning in letting your lips ghosting over his ear as you spoke.

“I’ve been craving you all night Joey, i want you so badly” you lightly whined, nipping at his lobe.

Joe reacted as quick as he could, scooping you into his arms as he carried you out of the hot tub and into the house. You broke out into a fit of giggles at his movements, careful to keep your volume down for your housemates. The remainder of your night would be spent relaxing in a different way.

[fastandcarlos]

No More Makeup : ̗̀➛ George Russell

summary: as he watches you doing your makeup once again, george decides it's time for you to see how much you don't need it

You dropped down onto the stool in front of your dresser, straightening your hands through your hair. You reached across and opened the drawer where your makeup was kept, rummaging through the mess and pulling out the items that you needed. 

“What are you up to?” George asked as he walked through into the bedroom, standing behind you and placing his hands gently down on your shoulders. “I’ve never seen so much makeup in your life.” 

“It’s all needed,” you responded, tilting your head back to look up at him. “I need plenty of it to try and at least look human.” 

George’s eyes widened as you spoke, shaking his head in response. “You must be kidding, you look incredible as you are now, without all of this. This must take an age to do this every day.” 

“It doesn’t take too long, I’ve got quite the routine,” you smiled. 

“I just don’t get it,” he hummed. 

You picked up your eyelash curler, holding it tightly in your hand, turning to face your mirror and curling your left lashes. “What don’t you get about it, George?” 

His eyes studied you closely as you then moved to curl your other set of lashes, fascinated as to how such a simple thing could make such a difference. “I don’t get why you feel the need to wear all of this. I look at you and think you’re stunning, but you don’t seem to agree.” 

You placed the curler down, picking out your favourite eyeshadow palette, opening the lid up. “George, I love you, but I’m definitely not stunning without any makeup on. I’ve got plenty of marks and blemishes that need covering up, I swear sometimes I still have the face of a teenager.” 

George frowned, placing his fingertips underneath your chin and tipping your head back again, stopping you from carrying on with your routine. “You’re beautiful because of who you are, they say it’s what’s on the inside that counts rather than what’s on the outside anyway.” 

“I know, George,” you whispered, “I guess wearing makeup is just like a safety blanket, it makes me feel a lot more confident in myself.” 

“Then I’m going to help you feel confident without it,” George grinned, reaching around either side of you to take out the drawer of makeup. A squeal came from you as you spun around on the stool, your hands reached out to try and grab George but he slipped out of your hold. 

You tried to pick up what fell out of the drawer, knowing you could try and do something with what was left. As you did, George ran out of the room with the drawer, returning a few moments later with a confident smile etched upon his face and his hands free. 

Your head shook as George closed the distance between the two of you, kissing against the top of your head. “Did you really have to do that? Where did you even put it?” 

“That’s for me to know, and you not to find out,” he sung, wrapping his arms around your waist as you stood up. His eyes looked down at you in awe, studying you closely, admiring how you looked without any makeup on. George knew you were mad, but if hiding your makeup was what he needed to do to show you how beautiful you were, then he would absolutely do it. 

Your eyes narrowed in George’s direction as he spun you around, dancing around the room with you in his hold. As mad as you wanted to be, you knew that George’s intentions were sweet, even if he had an annoying way of trying to prove his point. 

“I’ll get you back for this,” you warned, hitting against his chest. “I need to start getting ready, with my makeup.” 

“You already are ready for the day, you look incredible as you are, without needing any of that rubbish,” George smiled, pecking the tip of your nose with a soft kiss. “I don’t want you to feel like you keep having to cover up when you’re so naturally beautiful.” 

“You’re a smooth talker this morning,” you teased, turning yourself around to try and walk out of the room. “I will find where you’ve put my makeup you know; you’re rubbish at this game.” 

George’s head shook proudly back across at you, pulling you against his chest to stop you from getting any further away. “I’m not playing any games; I’m trying to make you see how beautiful you are.” 

Your body relaxed, shoulders dropping as you let go of a sigh. “If I promise not to wear makeup today, will you give it back?” You asked George, smiling sweetly up at him to try and convince him to give you back what you wanted.” 

“You promise?” He asked, eyes suspiciously looking across at you. 

“George, I do listen to what you have to say.” 

“So, you see how beautiful you are?” He quizzed, moving his hands from your waist to brush through your hair. Your head slowly nodded, although you were still far from convinced. Although if anyone was going to convince you, it was definitely going to be George. 

“You really mean it when you say these things, don’t you?” You smiled, allowing George to carry you across, perching down on the edge of your bed with you. 

George nodded straight away, resting the side of his head against your own. “As far as I’m concerned, you are by far the most beautiful person on the planet. I hate the way you always feel to cover up, I want you to embrace you like I do and admire how beautiful you are with nothing else.” 

Your hand pressed against George’s cheek, smiling appreciatively across at him. “I’ll remind you of this next time I come with you to a shoot for Mercedes and you ask them to powder your nose a little more.” 

“I do not!” George called out, staring across at you in disbelief. “And anyway, that’s only because they have the worst lighting ever at all of those shoots.” 

Your head shook as George tried to defend himself, although you’d seen one too many times how keen he was for a little extra help when it came to looking his best on all of his shoots. He loved the attention he got from the makeup artists as they made sure to remove all of the shine from his face. 

“Thank you,” you whispered, pressing a kiss against his lips. “I may not always believe you, but I love having you by my side as my biggest cheerleader, always finding a way to make me feel better about myself.” 

George leaned forwards, searching for another kiss from you. “That’s because you’re perfect to me.” 

“You really know all the right things to say, don’t you?” 

“That’s why you love me,” George giggled, “although everything that I’m saying is true, I’d love to know how I ever got so lucky to find you?” 

“Stop,” you chuckled, throwing your head back. “I’m going to need my makeup soon to cover my blushed cheeks.” 

George’s head shook, “don’t cover it up, I want to see just how happy I make you.” 

“You make me the happiest person in the world.” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL - Why so much on right now?

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

NOV 2024 Week 4

Ongoing Series - Thai

Your Sky (Sun iQIYI) ep 1 of 12 - Classic old school Thai BL. Of course I love it. Naïve sunshine freshman vs strict older protective boy (who already likes him but refuses to show it). Is he grumpy or just gay and tired of all of these women? We don’t know. We don’t care. We just want to see them fake a relationship. And that’s what we’re getting. I love it. I also love the friendship group, and that the younger brother is in it and he has some of the same magic BL-hottie superpowers as his older brother. It’s great.

Love Sick 2024 (Sun iQIYI) ep 10 of 15 - Phun actually turns into dangerous babygirl when he is flirting, who knew? (Dangerous Babygirl is a new archetype I have just invented by the way. Yes, I am pleased with myself.) Noh, who is a nice boy, doesn’t stand a chance. Neither does Jeed, since this new babygirl superpower gives Phun a damn near perfect “back off bitch” face.

The arm drape public claiming, it gets me every time. Has done since SOTUS. Nong Mick is hero-level in this version, hands-down my favorite character this time around (and a non-entity last time). I love him so much I can’t stand it. I haven’t updated my 1:1 comparison yet this week, didn’t have time to rewatch 2014, but I will later tonight.  I'm chronicling my experience with 2024 as compared to 2014 here. 

Kidnap (Fri Gaga) ep 12 end - What an absolutely excellent final episode. Smiley kisses! 

Conclusion 

A cute if patently absurd little show about a stuntman who is somehow convinced to kidnap a rich kid except they fall in love. It takes itself a little more seriously than it deserves for such a silly plot and some crappy stunts and contradictory content, but it was a pleasantly romantic experience all around, and I enjoyed myself. Extra credit for Q in that perfect blue color throughout. No complaints, a solid BL. 8/10 

The Heart Killers (Weds Gaga) ep 1 of 12 - Jojo directs FirstKhao & JoongDunk in an action romcom about assassin brothers (Khao & Joong) who meet a tattoo artist (First) and a cocky mechanic (Dunk). I'm highly amused that Joong plays the older brother to Khao and that we have a take on the Taming of the ShrewBL. This has all GMMTV's best chemistry in one BL and some fresh concepts that I've only seen tackled in m/m romance novels (check out Amy Lane's Racing for the Sun, thank me later). My only quibble is Jojo, I like his style but his characters can get unreliably messy so…... this gonna be interesting.

Buckle up buttercups I got thoughts:

Frankly, I haven’t decided if this is good or so bad and so camp that it’s good? The latter I suspect. Either way, I’m enjoying it very much, but I had very little doubt that I would. This falls into so many of my wheelhouses. Not just the premise but the casting and the approach and the script. They pretty much knocked it out of the park with the first episode: one night stand + safe sex + linguistic negotiation = I’m in! During the opening sequence I spent the entire time worried about how many fingerprints Bison was leaving everywhere. And then I realized this show is going to require DEMAND we turn our brains entirely off.

We are in KinnPorshce / The Sign territory people. Take emergency precautions! Do not engage brain meats!

Kiss Me Kate only gay and hitmen? Frankly, it sells itself. The music is extremely stupid though. (Brain, stop it!) I gotta say that FirstKhao are good because…… FirstKhao. But JoongDunk are absolutely perfectly cast. Like: couldn’t be a better pair in these roles. Dunk, in particular, is slaying. I did not have Dunk as Petruchio down on my “best casting choice of all time” BL bingo card, but apparently there he is. Awesome. 

Fourever You (Thurs YT) ep 8 of 16 - I’m warming up to the second couple a little bit. I actually don’t mind a bully romance the way some do. But this isn’t quite hitting the notes that I want from one. Still, I found this week more engaging than last week. 

Secret Love (? YT?) 1-12 of 81 eps - They dropped 12 eps at once randomly on YT totaling about 20 min. So of course, I watched it. Because I have no self-control and STEPBROTHERS! Adopted into a rich family, boy falls in love with heir. But when he is made the heir instead, everything goes wrong. Now enemies the two boys reunite and sparks! I hate this format but dammit I love this utter dross. It’s very early Chinese BL feeling but from Thailand. I don’t care. It’s so stupidly great. This is my kind of BL.

Caged Again (Fri Gaga) ep 3 of 10 - There is something sweetly innocent and earnest about this show. It reminds me of Takara and Amagi or even Light On Me but less stiff - this one is quintessentially quirky and casually Thai about it. It’s interesting that this has an 18+ rating, which means it’s either gonna go very violent or sexy or both. Right now I can’t imagine that, it doesn’t suit. But I’m looking forward to seeing where this goes. Junior with his Mean Girl crop top moment is the goddess of the week though. Fierce queen penguin.

Perfect 10 Liners (Sun YT?) ep 4 of 24 - I love the side couple so damn much. How are they so adorable? Still not wild about the mains, and not likely to get there anytime soon. That said, I did like seeing the “sleeping in your boyfriend‘s class while he gives you his jacket” trope drop. We haven’t had that one for a really long time. My Engineer maybe?

Every You Every Me (Mon Gaga) ep 7 of 8 - I did find this installment kind of boring. I just don’t like actors as main characters. Much as I’m enjoying this show and I think the actors are doing a good job, I really do wish it was more like what we had been sold on: Connected reborn characters fated to be together over and over again. Not this weird little mishmash of whatever. I’m now annoyed by a format I was initially charmed by. 

Jack & Joker (Mon IQIYI) ep 10-11 of 12 - still on hold until it ends or I can cope with the pain.  I just can’t go into darkness right now.

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

Our Youth AKA Miseinen: Mijukuna Oretachi wa Bukiyo ni Shinkochu (Japan Tues Gaga) ep 3 of 11 - SNIFF TEST! But done by Japan so it’s that much better and more kinky. The way H looks at M pretty much defines naked lust. “I got extra beat up so you’d take pity on me and then I admitted it to you” is so damn warped I can’t even with this boy. This feral kid is gonna drive me feral. The power and the control and the execution of this show is just spectacular. I keep thinking about it after its done and telling people IRL about it. (I rarely talk BL IRL.) It’s classy. I do love it when Japan does classy BL for us. 

See Your Love (Taiwan Weds Gaga) ep 6 of 13 - so completely and utterly adorable. The learning sign language thing! I loved it so much.

Love is Like a Poison AKA Doku Koi: Doku mo Sugireba Koi to Naru (Japan Tues Netflix?) 10 of 12 eps - Possibly one of the best confessions of the year I have to say. Also a wonderful character growth arc for our lawyer. Exactly as one might hope. The plot twist was slightly predictable but still adds a delicious note of tension to our final episodes.

Blue Canvas of Youthful Days (China Sun iQIYI) eps 7-8 of 12 - You don’t want me but you won’t let anybody else have me either. The song of the repressed seme. I did like the irrational jealousy moment and a few other bits, of course the crying kiss. You know I love a crying kiss. Even if it’s a somewhat censored one. But this is also leaning a little bit darker than I want at the moment. This being China, I anticipate the darkness and doom getting worse not better.

Teenager Judge (Vietnam Sat YT) ep 9 of ? - The incredible migrating lip injury continues. Could we please get on with the BL aspect of this show? I’m getting frustrated as well as slightly bored at this juncture. Pacing darlings. Pacing.

Love in the Air: Koi no Yokan (Japan Sat Gaga) ep 4 of 10 - Still not sure. I think I like this better than the original, but I’m confused. I did make disgusted scoff noises and say “oh dear” a couple of times. Which makes me sound like a World War II grandpa (only the housemate's cat noticed), but is also classic me when profoundly disappointed by a piece of media. That’s said, the sex scene was pretty good. In the end, I wasn’t as frustrated by this version of these characters, but they didn’t have as many highs or lows as the original. So first half probably works out about the same in my all-purpose rating system. The true proof in the pudding is going to be couple number 2 tho......

It's airing but......

Winter Is Not The Death of Summer (Weds YT) ?? eps - Criminals who meet in prison fall in love. I did find it on YouTube, but I did not find any English subs for it. The first episode seems to be only six minutes long. It is very pulp. But it is intriguing. So I hope it gets some sort of international or something at some point. for now I’ll put it to the wayside.

Bad Guy My Boss (Thai Sun Gaga) 10 eps - I DNF'd at ep 7, I couldn't make it. I am weak. Life is hard enough right now, this show is making it harder. It’s not what I want from my entertainment.

Bad to Bed (Taiwan Sat YT) 10 eps - This is a little too low production value even for me + just very very odd. DNF

In Case You Missed it

Love for Loves Sake got some kind of special on 11/9. Not sure what, why, or where. Only the rumor that it...... is. I'll believe it when I see it...... literally. Let me know if you found it.

The Bangkok Podcast covered Marriage Equality in Thailand: More Complex Than it Seems. They missed some of the point and all of the queer perspective. But it's a local lawyer talking about it and how it was implemented, which is quite interesting.

Dominant Yakuza and Wimpy Corporate Slave AKA Ore-sama Yakuza to Hetare Shachiku: Kuni wo Koeta Jingi Naki Dekiai, Japan YT. A 30 min slice of ridiculousness. This mini walked out the back of one of my 1999 yaoi (you know those little shorts they always had along with the main story?) and randomly got cut together by some helpful malcontent, tumbled into my YT feed like a Taiwanese prat fall, and I couldn't be happier.

This is the Cliff's notes of a story that could have been amazing, but I adored it anyway. Basically what it says on the tin: office cutie from Taiwan working in Japan runs across hot AF mafia hit man beating up lesser thugs. Falls instantly in love, turns out so does the yakuza. They end up together for...... reasons? (one is cute and the other is cool?) That's it. It's dumb and I loved it. 7/10 because it really isn't good, but it lives on in a very warped corner of my shriveled old heart.

Next Week Looks Like This:

Still to come:

11/28 Spare Me Your Mercy (Thai Thurs iQIYI) 8 eps on OneD (no word on inter) - Increased rates of deaths in terminal patients has a police captain investigating the palliative care doctor with whom he's fallen in love. Their relationship deepens but the mystery persists, driven by mistrust. Adapted from the novel "Euthanasia" by Sammon (Triage, Manner of Death) stars some old guard BL actors: Tor Thanapob from Hormones as the doctor and (fuck me YES) Jaylerr from Great Men Academy and goddamn Grean Fictions as the captain!

Upcoming BLs for 2024 are listed here. This list is not kept updated, so please leave a comment if you know something new or RP with additions.

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

We stan a smitten seme who's too reserved for his own good. Sunshine is gonna have this boy wrapped around his little finger in no time. (Well in 12 eps, but we know what we like!) Your Sky

King behavior.

Dangerous Babygirl behavior.

Both Love Sick 2024.

(last week)

The tag BLigade: @doorajar @solitaryandwandering @my-rose-tinted-glasses @babymbbatinygirl @babymbbatinygirl @isisanna-blog @mmastertheone @pickletrip @aliceisathome @urikawa-miyuki @tokillamonger @sunflower-positiiivity @rocketturtle4 @blglplus @anythinggoesintheshire @everlightly @renafire @mestizashinrin @bl-bam-beyond @small-dark-and-delicious @saezurumurmurs

[ljaylmaoo]

(Yes do more 😭)

I love telling fun facts/ little character development stories about myself hehe

Hmmm where to start…..

One of my earliest memories is when I was like 3-4 years old and I decided to make toast while my mom was cooking quesadillas because it was the first thing I learned how to make and I fell off the chair and my arm fell directly into the frying pan and I burned my whole tiny arm really badly (let’s just say it was no longer just chicken in those quesadillas… my older brother still ate them????)

I was born without knuckles except for my pointer fingers (so that makes my pointer fingers the longest instead of the middle ones like everyone else’s lol)

Oh I have a scar/indent on the centre of my forehead from when I was around 5 and I just learned how to ride a bike with training wheels and I hit a big rock and I went flying forward head first into a sharp pointy rock. It was stuck in my head for a few days and this was also a few days before my kindergarten graduation so in those pictures I have a big red cut in all of them 🤷‍♀️ (and I also decided to cut my own bangs the night before so I literally had two fresh new cuts for that grad 🤣) I’m still banned from ever using scissors again.

When I was younger up until I was like 11 I managed to break every limb in my body at least twice (my left foot 3 times, my right foot 2, my left arm 4 and my right arm 6. I wish I was joking.) along with both my knees, collarbone and tailbone. And it all happened in the most stupidest ways possible 💀

My biggest fears are mascots and piñatas

Before my little brother was diagnosed with adhd, he constantly let his impulsive thoughts win and this one time (maybe around like 7-8 years ago) when he, my mom and I were in a car wash he unbuckled himself and jumped up from his car seat and quickly rolled down my window as the pressure washer thingy was going by and basically drowned me. I haven’t been in an automatic car wash since.

Growing up my older cousin and brother would chase me and my other cousins around my grandparents house in the fields with clown masks on and wouldn’t stop no matter how hard we cried and begged them to stop until we had a panic attack. (I vividly remember hiding under one of the vehicles and seeing them both peek under at me at the same time and laugh maniacally.) this game would often go from the afternoon until night time.

When I was like 4 or 5 and my little brother was just starting to crawl I remember seeing him at the edge of the stairs and I watched him slowly fall while keeping direct eye contact with me and he tumbled down a flight of I think 10ish stairs? He landed on his knees and looked up at me and he started crying and my mom thought I pushed him so I got my ass beat for it. I swear bro knew what he was doing. People till this day still don’t believe that I didn’t push him down the stairs. (I swear on my life I didn’t 😭)

I could do a lot more. 💀

it's so weird to me that everyone on this website is a human person outside of their weird internet niche so rb this with a random bit of your lore

[our-hextech-dream]

i haven't seen anyone fully articulate what i personally felt disappointed by wrt viktor's s2 persona and ending so i guess i have to do it myself even tho i'm bad at talking!! can someone who is better at this just read my mind and say it fancier and more coherently?

agency, the loss of

i have seen people already mention the way disability came into play at the end and what a wild choice it was for jayce - born able-bodied and healthy - to be the one to tell viktor - trapped in a body that was actively killing him - that actually your disability is a part of you and made you who you are and you owe everything to it. ... huh? jayce (by which i mean the writers), do you think without his disability, viktor wouldn't have still been a genius? yes, viktor is disabled - that's not even remotely what makes him a compelling character and power player. it is his mind not his body that makes him who he is. the fact that he had to waste almost his whole life fighting against that body to achieve anything is the entire crux of his frustration - imagine what he could have dedicated his mind to if he weren't constantly struggling to find a way just to survive another year, another month, another week, one more day. have you thought about it? because he has. so yeah that whole conversation, trash. bruno mars just the way you are ass one direction that's what makes you beautiful ass argument. viktor was not going crazy over cosmetic surgery, he was trying not to die.

but it strikes me as just one more expression of an overarching theme for s2 viktor - that of the complete and total loss of his agency. (more on a meta level than in the show itself, but also in the show!) i said after act 1 that viktor had died in that explosion and jayce was going to be chasing that corpse until the end, and i was correct. viktor bounced from one mindset to another, never seeming to have any consistent ideology of his own that couldn't be changed as soon as the plot demanded it. at any given point he was just kinda... wandering around, doing some random shit with the powers that worked through him. gone was the viktor who used his own hands and mind to influence the world directly, to bend it to his will. i always always felt this and i stand by it - taking viktor's abilities as an inventor and scientist away and turning him into some arcane mage jesus figure was a mistake and a disservice to his character. arcane said no this boy wasn't smart or determined, his ability to build and invent and seek and learn don't matter and never mattered, he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time and as soon as the arcane got its goop on him he just became the most specialest magic pixie dream boy to ever live and his own goals, dreams, ideals, morals, talents, skills, and hard work ceased to matter in any meaningful way. he never had to work to master magic to be able to use it to further his goals, because he immediately stopped having goals.

viktor became a non-character. he became whatever ideological and technological threat level the show needed to challenge to heroes and never more. he ceased to have any control or understanding over what was happening to him, rather he just gave up and decided to use his magic indiscriminately for whoever made the most convincing argument, a choice that would have been completely antithetical to his character up to that point if he'd still been alive. 'fuck zaunites, sure i'll turn them into robots so a foreign power can use them to attack and take over piltover and zaun, who cares. it's not like these are the people i've spent 30 years of my life trying to protect and save.' <- something viktor would never ever ever have agreed to! ever! no matter what! they have played us for absolute fools.

ambiguity, the loss of

the thing i wanted the most and was expecting because of the way viktor's original lore was set up was that the series would end with viktor and jayce unreconciled and with mutually exclusive worldviews, both fully believing they were right and the other was misguided but not evil or irredeemable, setting them up for future conflict. this felt like what was being set up when arcane made it a plot point that jayce was being convinced to turn hextech into weapons while viktor started getting unethical and unhinged with the experimentation. they both had good reasons to do what they did - and i'm absolutely not going to insult jayce's intelligence by claiming he was just manipulated into it by anyone, give me a fucking break - but the point was that both of them were doing something the other thought was misguided and dangerous. and they also felt that if they could just make the other person see their completely logical and rational pov, they could fix the divide between them and make up and be best science buddies again.

but then at the end arcane completely gave up on viktor having any belief in his own ideals. it just turned into 'aw actually he was just lonely all along and none of that science stuff or difference in morals or worldviews mattered bc he's got a buddy now and he's completely unequivocally on jayce's side. :)'

it was like. insanely selfish. as in, self-centered, concerned *only* with the self. the viktor i liked, and the one i wanted to flourish and hoped arcane would canonize, was someone who was entirely dedicated to zaun, to righting the wrongs of piltover and helping the people in the way he thought best - no matter what jayce or piltover thought about it. an ambiguous villain, just like all the other really well-written ones in arcane.

accountability, the loss of

viktor killed people. not sky, who was an accident despite his fixation on her; i'm talking at least a hundred or more zaunites during his stint as the machine herald. he ripped their minds out and made them play house with him, then turned them into weapons of war for ambessa's siege, and all of those people - primarily sick, desperate zaunites - died. this was always the entire crux of the conflict between (league) viktor and jayce giopara. viktor was willing to destroy people and use their bodies for his own gain unapologetically because he thought what he was doing was a blessing and the people were better off under his control because they would never feel fear or anger again. agree, disagree, depends on your view of free will and human nature, but the fact is that everyone who came to viktor hoping for a chance to be healed so they could pursue their own dreams and lives had those dreams and lives ripped away from them and they never got justice or even a single scrap of acknowledgement from the narrative.

in arcane, the horror of viktor's actions just... fade away into the background. viktor and jayce waltz off into magicspace together, leaving viktor's dead, ruined victims for piltover and zaun to deal with. he doesn't return their minds or bodies, he doesn't even seem to remember or care about what he had just been doing to other sentient living human beings. he's not sorry, he doesn't feel regret, he got what he wanted (a friend) and fuck everybody else.

because the narrative just shrugs and handwaves and says no no forget all that it doesn't matter it was just the hexcore or whatever, viktor becomes a flat, uninteresting character. he loses the depth that villains like ambessa and silco had, villains who had their victims validated by the story, who faced challenges in their arcs specifically because of the people they had hurt despite thinking they were doing the right or noble or most important thing. and not just the villains! even the heroes had to wrestle with the people they stepped on on the way to their lofty goals. but not viktor. he just floats away scot free, completely blameless, having no affect on the world and the world having no affect on him.

on arcane's status as the new canon lore and the Implications™

reminder that arcane is somehow supposed to tie into the world of runeterra at large, but now viktor and jayce both have been seemingly entirely removed from it. if it only mattered that they knew the people we'd already seen them interact with, okay, i guess. but that isn't the case. they both have a ton of connections to other champions - from regions other than p&z even - that haven't been introduced and don't have any plausible explanation for how they could have met in the past, which means they should have been set up to meet somehow in the future. implying that jinx escaped and has gone traveling the world is the perfect way to incorporate her in-game relationships with people like lux - she could have met her while traveling! but jayce and viktor don't get that plausible continuation of their story and development of further relationships - they just disappear out of existence. (ambessa also has this problem because they killed her, but unlike jayce and viktor she does have a huge amount of unexplored backstory where she could have spoken to (for example) swain and hwei and shyvanna at some point.)

note 1 - jayce and viktor are so old that they don't have any voice lines in game when meeting other champions. but other champions who are either newer or who have had voiceover updates do talk to them, which is how (aside from the old lore) you can infer that they do have relationships with other champions including ones who weren't in arcane.

note 2 - maybe riot actually doesn't care and none of the champions are really supposed to know each other or be involved in each others' lives canonically, they just have random quippy voice lines that imply that. which would fucking suck. having the lore of the game have no impact on the game itself and vice versa would objectively suck. if the characters talk to each other on the rift and say something interesting, i want that to have meaning. i want to be able to extrapolate the state of the world and the relationships between the characters from the things they verbally say with their mouths. i'm not arguing about this. the voicelines should be seen as the most high irrefutable canon that there is for the game because it is the ONLY source of lore in the game itself.

anyways there's my bible i guess. i miss evil laser robot viktor i want him to perform unethical brain surgery on me (fixing my adhd but also turning me into his personal puppet attack dog) and then give a weapon to a child so they can kill their bullies.

[eddiazx]

the bolter - evan buckley x reader

Buck doesn't mean to stare.

He had decided to grab a beer at the bar near his apartment to take the edge off the chaotic 12-hour shift he had just finished. He had planned to have the singular beer before calling it an early night, since he did have another shift the next morning.

But Buck couldn't help that his eyes kept being drawn to you. You were seated on the opposite end of the bar. The way your red lips moved, the way your eyes shined bright, and the exaggerated hand gestures you were making trying to recount a story has had Buck infatuated with you for the past hour.

Despite his observations, he didn’t approach you like he would’ve in the past. To Buck’s surprise, it’s you that approaches him. You saunter over, drink in hand, and slide into the stool next to him. Buck is immediately taken with how good you smell, your teasing smile and mischievous eyes even more prominent now that you were in front of him. You rest your cheek on one palm and look at him expectantly, before asking,

“Are you going to ask me to get out of here or are you just going to continue staring all night?”

Buck laughs, feeling his cheeks and ears get warm at your directness. He liked it. He was in trouble.

“Depends. What would your answer be if I did ask you?”

You respond by putting your hand in his and pulling him out of the bar.

Buck takes you back to his place. Buck is obviously no stranger to sex, but he can undoubtedly rank this night with you as one of the best experiences of his life. You both fall asleep on his bed hours later, your head on his sweaty chest. Buck drifts to sleep with a satisfied smile, eager to make you breakfast tomorrow and properly get to know you. He knows that he is jumping the gun, but he couldn't help dreaming of a potential future with you.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

The next morning, Buck wakes up to emptiness, the only evidence of last night the rumpled sheets and the lingering scent of you in the air. You’re no where to be found and you hadn’t exchanged numbers in your lustful haze. Buck tries not to be disappointed; one night stands were coined that for a reason. However, he couldn’t help the hollow feeling in his chest; he really thought this thing with you was going to end differently. He temporarily sets aside his dismay and focuses on the fact that he has a shift in two hours.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

“Alright team, we have a new recruit joining us today! Welcome them to the 118!” Bobby announces to the team, a few minutes into the shift.

Buck turns away from washing the fire engine to greet them, but when he does, his jaw, and the cloth that he was holding, drops.

Buck and you make eye contact, mirroring expressions of shock.

[kinardsevan]

What is your opinion on Tommy coming back or not? And in they case we see him again, do you think it’ll be just for closure (ex: Abby in season 3) or maybe for a BuckTommy second chance?

fun fact: i was considering doing an entire breakdown with a bunch of Oliver's interviews from the start of this arc until now to point to my opinion:

Tommy is coming back. The romcom theme is still in effect, and we're only about midway through the 3rd act.

Long story short (and without sources right now), I think that the interviews were actuallly pointing in this direction with the wording for a hot second. We have OS telling us that he thinks the best relationships have a "will they, won't they" bit where the audience and the characters are pining. We've seen this play out on the show. And we also have to remember that Oli knew during this interview that the breakup was coming. We also have the interview (I believe it was the Decider one I linked last week) where he mentions choosing to fight for the relationship or not. I feel like a lot of people have taken the context of that and twisted it into "they didn't do it right away, so they're not going to". Except, there's ANOTHER quote of relevance, which is Oliver talking about how Buck's queerness isn't tied to Tommy or Eddie, and only to himself.

Obviously, there have been things said since 806 that would point towards me being delulu, except, here's the issue: TM, OS and LFJr are NOT going to tell us that Tommy is coming back if that's the intention. It would spoil the surprise of it all, and the win of it all. What fun is there in that? What TM has said is that Tommy is Buck's romantic past but that doesn't mean he won't turn up again in the future (all relevant and true facts which do not shut down a reconciliation). Lou never out-and-out said he was done with the show. He's said time and time again that he wants to come back. TM has mentioned Tommy coming around again. OS literally said in an interview "they may run into each other on scene and have it be awkward".

Now obviously we don't actually have the full story with how things went down and the show decided to go with splitting the boys up. I think the fact that Lou has called out the bullying but says he wants to come back suggests that it wasn't him saying it was too much. I have two theories that could honestly run concurrent with one another:

Evan and Tommy break up in 806 at the end of the episode. With 911 having 18 episode seasons, this quite literally only makes up the first third of the season. It set up the beginning of the year for us. We're now two episodes into the second part of the season with a pretty clear idea of where the next three will go and suggestions (by fans, nothing official) that the "soonest" we could see LFJr again is 812. This is reasonable, as it would be the end of the middle of the season. Knowing that TM has suggested he might do a multi-episode season finale, pushing LFJr back into the show in 812 (or even the end of 811 if we go with my theory that Eddie could possibly leave around this time and Tommy helps them pack up/his and Buck's first time spending time around each other again), there would still likely be something around this time period that would be around when they would open the doors to this. As it is, we know that 809 and 810 go together, and then we'd have 811 to really flesh out the end of Buck's fling. I think there's even more possibility of LFJr being in this episode as well because if the plan is to bring them back together (which everything has been suggested so far ON screen in terms of keeping Tommy "in" the story), three-episode arc gives us several things: a. it allows the show to make the point that Buck's queerness is not intrinsically attached to Tommy; that his interest in men is as equal as he know his interest in women is. b. it gives them the ability to also show that his feelings for Tommy are not based in Tommy being his "first", or Evan needing to "discover" more about himself. They're in love with each other, and the show has given us the pieces for that. LFJr has acknowledged it in an interview, Tommy loves Buck. We also know that Tommy's line to Evan is "you'd end up breaking my heart, and I don't think I could deal with that". When I hear that sentence, what I'm actually hearing is "I'm already in love with you, and if I let myself fall more in love with you by being with you every day all the time and this ends, I won't survive it". By relation, we have Josh ask Buck if he loves Tommy and Buck waffles, but I think this has more to do with his lack of understanding of what a healthy love is in a relationship, given his past relationships. He never got to tell Abby. Ali left. and saying I love you to Taylor wasn't about the core of actually being in love with her, which I think is another important piece for BuckTommy: they don't just love each other, they're in love with each other. Still, sometimes it's hard to quantify that feeling, and I think (as I've referenced before), for Evan it was easier to ask Tommy to share a living space with him than to share how he feels about him because historically, things haven't worked out well for him when he's been in love outwardly. Further, the questions Josh asks Evan are directly correlated with loving someone, and Evan answers yes to all of them. (I don't think I need to add this, but he also sees a future with Tommy, talks about being engaged or married. He's serious about Tommy in a way he never has been before.)

There's also the theory that the breakup happened because of scheduling conflicts. Now obviously the show could've found other ways to work around LFJr's scheduling issues by having Tommy go on a trip or what-have-you, but let's remember OTHER things that have been said by OS in prior interviews: a. back in June, he did an interview where he stated that he wanted and hoped that BuckTommy would go through issues that couples normally go through in their first year together. He wanted normal issues. This storyline IS normal. b. he didn't want to repeat Tarlos. By the very definition of what the show is doing right now, we're not. Tarlos and BuckTommy are their own things with their own reasonings.

One of the other things I also keep being pulled back to is these issues: first of all, we know how LFJr plays with the 911 demo, given that they got to see it last season. It's why he was written into more episodes after his initial four episode arc and brought back. ABC has also used BuckTommy in their own adverts, which suggests that they are very supportive of the relationship continuing because it draws in viewers. Truly giving that up for good feels like dousing yourself in gasoline and then considering striking a match. Second, people also keep calling out that TM only plans a few weeks in advance. I believe this is true with story beats. We know that the writers room has a general idea on character arcs, thanks to some of the discussion on the cheese page post-806. I really struggle to believe that TM didn't know going into going forward with the breakup whether or not he wanted to bring LFJr back. We know he waffled back and forth on the idea of the breakup, meaning he probably had other solutions on his mind for whatever LFJr's schedule needed adjusting for, and this is what he decided on. Also, even if 8b hasn't been broken down yet (we know it hasn't), they would still know at this point what they do or don't want, what their ideas might be. Solidification for why Tommy should be brought back is directly shown in the reaction by the GA and the fandom to the breakup. They may not know exactly how that reunion happens yet, but what they have suggested is that Buck's new relationship will be short-lived. That he's using it to cope. We also know he's still processing the break-up and still misses Tommy. These are all things that point to the story not being over. Plus, I feel (once again), if the story really was over and they didn't have plans to continue this in 8b, LFJr wouldn't be talking about wanting to go back. It be far more "yeah that sucked, but it's over now and what can you do? I'm off to this new show and I'll never be back." (I've commented also on the fact that the fangirlish interview comment about his "i'm going here, doing this, have some opportunities" statement is very run-of-the-mill. Obvs I could mean something. Or it could literally just be a canned answer.) (This might feel a little off-center, but I think his commentary on trusting TM and knowing what he's doing in one of his post-806 interviews directly suggests that he believes the story is going to be handled properly.)

I realize at the end of the day, all of what I'm piecing together could mean zilch and Tommy could possibly never come back. They could truly just drop the story and never circle back around, set fire to a beautiful arc and lose thousands (possibly millions) of viewers. I've certainly suggested myself being one of them. But I don't see BuckTommy only getting an Abby fix for two reasons. LFJr wants to come back and continue the story, and Connie Britton only ever intended to do one season. Also, the fling has been called out as being planned to be short-lived. Why bother mentioning that if you don't have other plans for the story.

The last thing I'll leave you with is my commentary from the interview Oli and Aisha did with the guy from Chicago. That reporter obviously liked the BuckTommy storyline and said he's choosing to believe that the relationship is paused, not over. By relation, we had Oliver say three things: (1 and 2) Buck is still looking for love, both in himself and with another person. (3)The season is only half over. Circle that back to 806-808. Buck is finding love in himself by dealing with it in a healthy way (so far) with the baking. We've also seen the "cracks" Oli mentioned with his continued urge to want to text Tommy, as well as him fighting it off by baking (referencing the "pendulum swinging"). Looking for love in others will likely be this arc where he tries to deal/move on. I feel like we collectively watched the end of 806, and then 807 and 808 yelling at the TV "you're in love with him, piece it together already!" (or maybe that was just me???). But truly, whether it's a fling, his therapist, or Bobby/Maddie/Eddie who finally spells it out of or him, I think there will be a point at which we see that come to fruition. The seeds were sewn in for it in the scene with Josh. Now it's just about watching those seeds sprout.

Final note: we've had a good run up to this point with these two. Did we truly thing that the honeymoon phase would last forever? (I didn't. Conflict and the pink bubble popping have to happen eventually.) If we really want to suggest that what BuckTommy has is real, they have to go through this and come out the other side. I think everyone is justifiably frustrated due to the 4 month wait on new episodes (I personally would not have left people hanging quite like this, but that's just me), but the narrative does lead us toward what the show is doing with the suggestion that it does have a natural (and good) conclusion. (Possibly with a helicopter/truck/jeep crash?!)

And just as my singularly LAST note, here's my other thing: Evan and Tommy both have abandonment issues. (Tommy's are clear based on the break up and we know Buck's.) By that correlation, when these two finally get back together, they're never going to fucking let the other go.

(This was so much longer than I intended it to be, but that's my answer 😂😂😂😂😂😂)

[happyflowey]

Happy didn't like the idea of just not having the choice to begin with.

But with Corrupt's reassurance, he got much closer to his head and gave him a small kiss.

What.... what a positive(?) take on an idea of what this was. Was it a positive take...? Was it positive to lose yourself for something good?

Happy usually only saw this idea... of whatever it is over there as being one of the most terrifying things that could have ever existed.

In the end, he decided surrendering himself to the fact that he's going to have to face this, whatever this scary force is. But ONLY because Corrupt is here to help him.

The cold air blows harder in response.

* ....Ok.

* I trust you, pal. I always do.

* I think I'll be okay as long as you're with me, pal. Even if this shit scares me, I'd gladly be scared with you.

They've been down... a few scary roads before. He does feel a lot better knowing that Corrupt would be by his side. He's... never sure about if he'd be able to protect him by the nature of how stuff just goes... but there's a comfort there.

* Let's.... Get this bullshit over with. Whatever this shit is, it's THAT way.

He's pointing in the direction that... now looking at it, all of the Happy Bodies seem to mostly be facing.

Towards the old ruins.

[ It’s so Cold. ] [ It’s so Cold. ]

[ The Numbness of the Cold was Thoroughly Felt, Bleary Eyes Looking into the White Horizon, Interrupted by a Small Flinch at Happy’s Outburst. He’d Look down as the Flower Sighed. ]

[ It Made Sense. The Nature of Monster Dust... How it so Easily Spread and Stuck to Anything it could. Everywhere. ]

[ Monster Dust… ]

*…

[ Looking to the Horizon, They were Coming Here Over and Over and Over and Over Again. ]

*…Maybe it’s Something… Good. That is Simply just… That Worth it.

*Something so Good, Maybe even the Best Thing to have Ever Happened to You, That You Can’t Help but Keep Losing More and More, if There was Anything Left to Begin with.

*…I Don’t…

*…I Don’t Think We had a Choice in Coming Here. I Think This was going to Eventually Happen and… Whatever was the Weird Stuff Back at Home would have Forced You Somehow.

*…But Uh. I’m… Here? And… and I Don’t really Want to go Back There Either…

*…But even if it does End up being Something Bad, I can… I Will Protect You. Okay, Dear?

*We can be Scared Together.

[mostly-marvel-musings]

Hi, I am slipping into your Kinktober requests again, if that's okay with you! I'd love to request something for Hugh Jackman this time, as I keep seeing more and more of him, and I'm happy to drool over that fantastic man with your stories! 👀

Kissing down every inch of your body they possibly can, showing how much they love you. + "Don't be shy baby, I love the way you moan my name.

I'm preparing to melt into a permanent puddle of goo here as I'm happily waiting to see what you'll come up with here. Again, thank you for everything you share with us, and I'm looking forward to reading it all! 🤍

Kiss away your insecurities

A/N: Thank you for requesting this, my darling! Hope you like it :) Special thanks to @stark-ironman for helping me with this idea 💛

Pairing: Hugh Jackman x F! Reader

Warnings: 18+ smut themes, angst, floof. Body image issues, self-doubt and negative talk.

.

You were still out of breath.

Heart pounding wildly against your ribcage thanks to the activities you and your boyfriend were up to ever since he got home. Even though the shared sounds of passion had died down, they were now replaced with your louder insecurities, forcing you to curl away from the man and head to the bathroom to clean up.

Hugh frowned as the door slammed shut with a little more force than usual. Concerned, he knocked on it asking if you were okay.

“Uh, yeah. Fine.” You responded, blinking back tears that began rapidly gathering. Your inner thoughts screamed you didn’t deserve all of this.

“Mind if I join you for a quick shower, darling?” Hugh called again after hearing the water running. Something you had a habit of doing every time you were overwhelmed with emotions.

“Actually I’m going to be right out. You know I have the—the thing early morning.”

Cursing yourself to have to lie, you scrubbed your body forcefully, glad the tears streamed down with the hot water and your shaky voice was somewhat covered.

As you stepped out of the bathroom, you were met with a concerned Hugh, arms crossed over his chest.

“Are you okay? Did I do something wrong?”

“No! Why would you think that?” You faked a laugh, going around him to get dressed for bed. Knowing fully well you weren’t fooling your boyfriend.

“Because you’re avoiding me.”

Giving him your most reassuring smile that you could muster, you shook your head as you slipped into one of his well worn t-shirts, getting onto your side of the bed.

“No it’s just, I have to wake up early tomorrow and I wanted to get a quick shower in. I’m fine. Really.”

He was silent for a while as he joined you in bed, watching you fluff the pillows before you turned away from the man to switch off the bedside lamp.

“You can tell that to someone who believes your lies, darling. Tell me what’s wrong. Please?” He tried again, switching the lamp back on and reaching out for your hand.

“Would you just drop it, Hugh?” You snapped, hating yourself for it as you turned the lights out again, pulling the blanket over and hiding yourself in its fluffy depths, hoping it would somehow cover your imperfections.

Your mind was still flooded with all sorts of thoughts about the way you looked, and how any day your little daydream would end and Hugh would realise what a mistake dating you was.

What was he even with you? You were far from perfect. You had curves that no matter what you did wouldn’t go away. You got trapped in your own head quite a bit, you were moody, and ten thousand other things that would push you away from the ‘ideal girlfriend’ title.

You lived in constant fear that he’d wake up one day and decide he was done with you. Then what would you ever do?

.

The next morning you woke up before Hugh did and went for a run, hoping it would clear your head.

It worked until you got a few heads turning in your direction, it wasn’t uncommon considering who you were dating; it was still overwhelming sometimes. You heard giggles and judgemental scoffs, possibly they were commenting on the way you looked.

It made you want to disappear. A sense of your deepest fears winning made you rush home, discard your jacket and ready to retreat into your room for the rest of the day. That was until your eyes fell on the breakfast spread that lay waiting on the table to your right.

“Morning sunshine! I thought I’d whip up your favourite breakfast today since you—hey, what’s wrong?”

You didn’t realise you had teared up again until Hugh rushed to your side with worry.

“Why are you with me?”

“What do you mean?” He frowned.

“I mean why are you with me? I don’t deserve any of this. You could be with anyone you want, I don’t understand why—”

He stepped in your line of vision, silencing your little ramble before gently wiping your tears away and leading you to sit on an armchair.

Wordlessly holding your hand against his chest, he took a deep breath in, gently coaxing you to follow. When you did, you could feel your erratic breaths returning to a normal slowly but surely. Just his presence on difficult days like these was calming.

“Talk to me?” he nudged, hands still clasped reassuringly.

“I just feel like you could do so much better than this…than me. You’re so—I mean, I am—”

Struggling to complete the sentence, you couldn’t help the crack in your voice as you avoided his gaze, shifting nervously on the chair.

“Beautiful? Kind? The best thing to have happened to me?” Hugh tilted your face to meet your eyes again, his own shining with all the love and adoration reserved just for you.

You wanted to believe him, so badly, yet the voices in your head got loud enough to make you doubt every single thing.

“I won’t allow you to talk much less think such lies about my amazing girlfriend, you know. She’s lucky her boyfriend immensely enjoys demonstrating just how much she means to him.”

You smiled at that, much to Hugh's relief, shaking your head.

"If you'll allow me to show you, my love."

With that he picked you up, leaving no room for any further protests from your side. Kicking the bedroom door shut with his foot, his lips descending onto yours in a kiss that effectively quieted down your fears and filled you with a renewed sense of assurance.

As the kiss deepened, your anxieties melted away, giving way for all the love that you held for this man, who by a miracle from the universe, was all yours. When you eventually broke the kiss after what felt like hours, he continued demonstrating all that he'd promised, making sure to whisper words that held such honesty, you wholeheartedly believed them.

This was nothing like you'd ever experienced before. This was more than just sex, it was worshiping, cherishing and much more. He held you close, accepting every curve, every scar, every last freckle as his own, showering you with all his love. You hadn't felt so loved, so respected, so seen, ever before in your life.

When you were filled to the hilt with his manhood, a moan that you trying so hard to suppress, escaped. Quickly covered your mouth with a hand, you quieted down, embarrassed.

"Don't be shy baby, I love the way you moan my name."

"I'm afraid I'm too loud." you whispered.

Hugh tutted, interlacing your fingers and firmly locking your hands over your head, securing them in their rightful place as he began moving in your sopping heat.

"Not loud enough. Let 'em hear. Let 'em hear who's making you feel good, sweetheart."

Hot and breathy against your ear, his honeyed voice was enough to turn your insides to mush, encouraging you to not hold back anymore.

Soon, the walls of the house echoed with your shared sounds of passion, the intensity of them evident as you reached your highs together. Bodies trembling with wanton need as you drew the most sinful moans out of each other, fully alive in the moment.

As your climax crashed over you, it seemed to wash away any lingering negativity and uncertainty you had previously felt, making you sure of your dreams being actualized.

[1mlei]

Demon Twin Au Thoughts

I've been thinking a lot about Demon Twin AUs lately.

I've read nearly all of the ones on ao3 (Please do send recs my way <3), and I adore the different interpretations of this concept. I will always love the version of this where Danny and Damian are reunited after Danny ends up in Gotham, or Damian in Amity.

I love this classic take on the AU, but I've been thinking about fun ways to spice it up. My favorite idea so far is the idea that the twins reunite after Damian temporarily dies.

Imagine Danny just minding his business in the Zone and he randomly sees his twin, who is supposed to be alive. Damian would be happy to be reunited, he's been under the assumption that Danny was dead since they were kids so he's just glad to see his twin again. Meanwhile Danny is freaking out because he literally faked his death and ran away so Damian could live, what the fuck is this?

You could add a touch of Sam and Tucker being confused on the side. I always imagine that Danny never told them about where he came from or his brother. (What can I say? I love the drama that secrets bring.) You could either have Damian look like his civilian self as a ghost, and have Sam and Tucker be confused af about this random ghost that looks just like Danny. They might think it's a weird duplicate or something, but then why is Danny so freaked out? You could also have Damian be in his Robin costume, I imagine Sam and Tucker would be shocked to randomly see the ghost of Robin in the Zone, but it's far from the weirdest thing they've seen in there. Again, Danny has never been a huge fan of other heroes or vigilantes, so why is he so freaked out about this one being dead? Of course, though Danny has stayed away from Gotham for various reasons he is aware that his twin brother has become Robin after moving in with their father, so he knows that this new ghost can only be one person.

Now moving away from the idea of the twins just randomly running into each other :)

You could try turning it into a twin telepathy type thing, where Danny senses Damian dying, or at least that something happens to him and goes to investigate.

Or, something that I feel is quite in character for Damian, he might hunt down Danny himself the moment he realizes where he is.

You could turn this in different directions again depending on whether Damian is in civilian clothes or his Robin costume. Either way, I imagine him questioning some other random ghost (maybe one of Danny's rouges for fun?) and regardless of how he's dressed they'll point him towards Danny.

"Oh you're looking for your brother? Idk man, go ask Phantom or something."

OR

"Your brother? You look fucking identical to Phantom so you might wanna start there."

Either way Damian tracks down Phantom and concludes that yes, that is his brother. Dramatic reunion ensues.

Last little thought I had on this, Damian doesn't think Danny is a ghost, he assumes he moved on, or maybe he somehow knows he faked his death and thinks he's alive? Regardless, Damian is a man on a mission the moment he arrives in the Zone, he refuses to stay in this pathetic realm and decides that whether he's dead or alive he will make his way back to Earth. Best way to get there? Damian goes to talk to the king of course, to negotiate (or fight if necessary) about going back to Earth. If not that, he just happens to hear about a certain half-human, half-ghost hybrid and tracks him down for help. A hybrid sounds like someone who would know how to go back and forth between the realms after all.

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All this to say, I want more of the Demon Twins reuniting in the Ghost Zone. If anyone has recommendations or ends up writing a story of this please do send a link my way, it would be most appreciated <3

+ Bonus points will be added if there is a scene where Damian is resurrected and Danny decided to tag along. Cue confused batfam freaking out because oh god there's two of them now how did that happen.