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vrystalius · 3 days ago

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I know i just requested with weird nicknames for squid game characters.

But I want to see their reaction to your wallpaper being them or being another person. Literally obsessed with what you write its so cute. Take my heart ❤️

Squid Game men’s reaction for putting them as your phone’s wallpaper.

They randomly check your phone one day and find a picture of themselves staring back. How will they react? What kind of wallpaper do they have?

Pairing: Recruiter, Thanos, Nam-gyu x gn!reader

Summary: You putting them as your phone wallpaper, them putting you as their phone wallpaper

Genre: Fluff, maybe a little angst in Nam-gyu’s part (mention of drug use)

Words: 800 per character

Note: I wrote this during my medicine and head concussion induced haze, forgive me for any inconsistencies or mistakes 😭🙏 Also, the middle pictures are a suggestion as what said wallpaper could be.

Gong Yoo // The Recruiter // Salesman

— Choosing you as your wallpaper. —

Mostly surprise and confusion spread swirled in his mind the first time he stared back at himself in the form of your phone wallpaper. He never thought you’d screenshot this picture let alone use it as your wallpaper because c’mon— let’s be honest, you could’ve chosen any other picture of him and yet you decided on this.

It’s weird. Gong Yoo feels a little watched as he tries to find the food delivery app on your phone while having his own eyes stare back at him.

Although he had grown more and more fond of it every time he opened your phone anew. He sees how you grin a little when turning on your screen, how you sometimes giggle when you stare at it for too long. Sometimes you show it off to him and complain about he barely ever wears any skincare masks anymore.

“So you can have a new wallpaper? I don’t think so. My skin is fine for now, thank you darling.”

To be really honest, he finds it incredibly endearing that you chose him as your wallpaper, especially a picture like this. He thinks of himself as a sophisticated, charming, handsome salesman that lures desperate people into a death game and messes with homeless people in his free time, but you seemingly just see him as your soulmate, the love of your life, your husband.

— Choosing you as his wallpaper. —

Two months into the relationship and after a couple of dates, Gong Yoo already set you as his phone wallpaper. It was nice to have a reminder looking back at him to text you, check in on you, give you a call or even come by for dinner. A reminder that he has a special someone to care and love for.

He switches his wallpaper up every few weeks or months, wanting to keep it updated to your appearance. His chosen pictures are mostly intimate ones, snaps he takes while you are being unaware of how cute, attractive or adorable you look.

Pictures like when you are asleep on the couch in his arms after watching a movie, you after waking up and sleepily brushing your teeth in the mirror, you showing your back to him while waiting for the microwave to finish heating up the cheap convenience food, maybe even you stuffing your face with ice cream after a long day.

Whatever picture he may choose (much to your dismay), it always makes him smile to himself no matter the situation. Even if another homeless person asks him for spare change or those two random mobsters tried to jump him in an alleyway and now he was forced to “get rid of them”, a quick glance on his phone and seeing a cute picture of you immediately forces a smile to break out on his face.

The sight of their kidnapper smiling at his phone so lovingly while they were tied up and playing rock-paper-scissors for their lives probably made the two men shit their pants more than feeling the barrel of a revolver being pressed against the side of their head.

Thanos // Su-bong // Player 230

— Choosing him as your wallpaper. —

At first, Thanos reeeaaaallly disliked the picture you chose as your wallpaper. It was just a random reaction picture he send you one day about something he doesn’t even remember, and you went ahead and chose this as your phone wallpaper? Seriously?! Can’t you choose something more handsome, flattering?

He even offered to pose properly for you so you have a better pic to use, but after Thanos obviously started mewing and tried his absolute best to look as attractive as possible (which he already is but shhh), your boyfriend got extremely offended when you started laughing at his posing.

Your boyfriend gave up after a few attempts of secretly changing your wallpaper and seeing you pout every time he did, changing it right back to the one before.

If you really like it that much, fine. Just don’t let anyone see that you have that as your phone wallpaper, or else his rapper persona will never be able to recover from being exposed like that.

You don’t even understand why he is being so dramatic about your wallpaper anyway.

“I look hella ugly there, c’mon baby! Work with me here!! Here, lemme pose for you real quick so you can change that thing.”

Although it does flashbang you in the middle of the night when you turn on your phone, the brightness of the picture vaporising your eyes in an instant. It’s not the most pleasant thing to look at first thing in the morning but you still think he looks kinda cute in the pic.

— Choosing you as his wallpaper. —

He was careful to choose the prettiest picture of you he can find and the proceed to show it off to everyone he meets. Thanos even showed you off to Nam-gyu multiple times, forgetting that he already showed his friend the same picture four times now. Nam-gyu is already totally looking forward to next week when Thanos shows you off again.

Your boyfriend grins like a child whenever he glances at his phone for too long, falling in love with your picture all over again.

He changes his wallpaper every week so he always has something cute to look at after performing at another underground club or while doing whatever, sometimes getting distracted from searching for a certain app and instead ending up scrolling through either your social media account or his photo library to search for more pics of you.

Whenever you catch Thanos grin at his phone again, your first instinct is to glance over his shoulder to check what exactly he is looking at, but he immediately closes his phone when you do. At first you thought he might be looking at some random girl’s profile or whatever, but when you open it up and find yourself staring back, you’re kind of surprised to be honest.

Although, he always denies that he really cares about his wallpaper. Your boyfriend is totally choosing it at random and totally does not match his lock screen with his homescreen and mostly chooses pictures of you two together, you kissing his cheek or him holding you. Not at all!

Nam-gyu // Player 124

— Choosing you as your wallpaper. —

You choose a rather cute picture as your wallpaper. You took it during one of your first dates where you dragged him to a festival that was being held near your home, dragging Nam-gyu there against his will. Back then he had shorter hair, wore his glasses more frequently. Back then he was a little shy believe it or not, at least when it came to romance.

He used more before he met you, being around alcohol and drugs at all times due to his occupation. It kind of came with his job and the circle of friends he was around, so before meeting you, there was barely any day he wasn’t high or having a hangover from some random drug.

Nam-gyu never noticed you had this picture as your phone wallpaper until he accidentally grabbed your phone, thinking it was his. Seeing this picture in particular gave him a brief jumpscare.

You took this picture after he managed to scrap out the star shape out of the sugar cookie he bought from a random stand during the festival. His hair was shorter back then and he wore his glasses more frequently, the mask a reminder of how times were 5 years ago. He struggled staying clean during that time and always felt like shit wich is why he didn’t want to go to the festival in the first place.

He didn’t even know you took this picture of him despite him fully looking at the camera. A small smile spread on his face at the thought of you really choosing a picture like this as your phone wallpaper.

Quickly putting your phone down, Nam-gyu quickly played off his reaction as he hard you come into the room.

“I’m smiling about nothing, shaddup. Go back to wherever you came from.”

With a dismissive hand wave, he tried to shoo you away. His attempts were futile as you instead pull him into a clingy hug, instead demanding cuddles instead. Who was he to deny your wish?

— Choosing you as his wallpaper. —

Nam-gyu likes taking 0.5x zoom pictures of you from above and choosing them as his phone wallpaper, pushing you away as you try to protest and stop him from putting them as his wallpaper because seriously, he can literally choose any other pic!

You can hear quiet, evil “hehe”s from the corner of the room whenever you two are together and he turns on his phone, briefly turning it around so you can see what he was giggling so stupidly at, only for him to giggle harder at the sight of your unamused face.

Even if he mainly chooses those pictures as his phone wallpaper to annoy you, he likes having a stupid picture of you always available to him.

Some shitty guy searching for a fight at the club? Quick glance at your face at a 0.5x zoom makes him crack a smile right after. Thanos called him Nam-su, Gyu-nam or literally anything else but his name again? Turning his phone on lightens his mood immediately.

Sure, a flattering or cute picture of you would have the same effect on him, but this is much funnier in his opinion.

💠

Author’s note. Thank you for reading!

HAPPY LATE VALETINES DAYYYYYYY!!!! Since tumblr limits your tags to 30 tags per post I always have trouble tagging all of the Squid Game men, so I decided to split this one prompt into two posts. If this gets enough attention / love, I’ll post a part 2 with Dae-ho, Gi-hun and In-ho! Also, thank you for requesting, I needed a break from writing my smut draft 😭

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!!

Take care of yourselves <33

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cargopantsman · 1 day ago

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I'm going to say that the critics do have to review the marvel movies the same way any of us should be reviewing the tomato pictures being hung in a subway restaurant.

And I'm going to put Duchamp's "Fountain" here to stall.

Marvel movies have become drivel. The initial rollout series had a level of honesty behind the writing that probably most of us could say we genuinely enjoyed the first Iron Man, the Ed Norton Hulk, or even the first Captain America.

The value of critiquing these films comes in seeing what happens when an overwhelmingly corporate agenda comes into play.

Like... you can't say Black Pather was a Bad Movie (as long as you kinda know what's going one [which is a critique in itself]), but with many themes and points in the MCU, a solid point is struck on a hollow anvil.

So any good story-telling is going to be overshadowed by this monolithic shadow of the studio trying to maximize gains, even when the heart of those stories (going back to the golden age comics) generally balk at the concept.

Is the MCU a good story-telling platform? No... Prachett's Discworld handled any given "nobody" wandering in and at least catching on to what is important better than Marvel ever, whether in movies or comics, could ever let someone wander in.

Does the MCU tell good stories?... yeah. They do. And there's a pivot where if you don't care (or aren't obsessively compelled) for context, the movies can kinda be one-offs.

But there's a critique right there...

Because the MCU relies on the US Department of Defense for so much of it's infrastructure, we have to criticize the films for bowing to the state in ways that the actual comic characters wouldn't.

We have to criticize the WWII era super-soldier as an allegory for the Greatest Generation and watch him support the next fascist power. (Winter Soldier fans calm down, I'm playing the Man out of Time angle here.)

But also Iron Man/Tony Stark being the billionaire playboy the Muskovites tried to pretend their boy wonder being a legitimate actor in global diplomacy. Part of critiquing the MCU is the fact that the amount of resources Tony spent in spiffying up his power armor probably could saved thousads of more lives in setting up supply chains and resource distribution that in making the next better Jarvis/Power Armor combo.

Now you're thinking "jesus cargo what the fuck are you going on about?"

but look at that tomato picture, look at that sharp chopped iceberg lettuce.

it's a wall decoration. but it's a wall decoration as you come into the subway. it's meant to make you feel like you're making a healthy decision.

there's a mcdonald's next door but you chose the subway. A BigMac with fries might just be another DC Batman movie. It's familiar, you bite in, knowing that you have to see Bruce's parents die, again. But it's a familar taste. It get's you through the day.

the subway... it's fresh. that's what it tells you at least. the pictures on the wall say so. (not, now that you think of it, that mcdonalds comes off as rotted) and you pick and choose the ingredients you want (i could see Black Panther but I'll choose to see Captain America again) [this is choosing the turkey and mayo on white bread option]

And the turkey with mayo on white bread miggt be tasty enough for you... but probably not for any one else...

but thinking you went with subway makes you better than the mcdonald's crowd is gonna bring up some issues (most likely by your general practitioner)

and neither is inherently better or worse then the other.

as long as you fucking think about what you are feeling and doing.

it's all just a urinal in an art gallery.

#weeeeee #drunk posting #someone kill me #please

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harmless-variety-of-garden-snake · 14 hours ago

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This is an alternate prompt for BuckTommy Fluffebruary Day Eighteen: Falling asleep/waking up together for the first time. I actually chose two first times, because I'm indecisive. The first one is just after 7x06, the second is just after whatever episode Buck and Tommy get married in. Also can be found on AO3 over here. Tagging @bucktommyfluffebruary

It’s been the longest night and morning in the world, and Tommy is grateful for Evan’s massive, perfect shower. He wants to live in it forever. As he scrubs another handful of body wash over his skin to get rid of the soot, he finds himself smiling at the memory of Evan kissing the life out of him in the waiting room. His fingers brush his lips, and it’s like he can still feel them tingling.

“Oh, my god, you’re such a girl,” he whispers, letting his hand drop as he rinses himself off.

It hadn’t just been that, though. He’d been given a plate of cake and been introduced to anyone he didn’t know, even Evan and Maddie’s bewildered parents. They hadn’t spoken much, but it’s because everyone seemed to suddenly need to ask Tommy a question. He knows that there’s something there, but he might find out what it is later. If he’s lucky.

Scrubbed clean and in borrowed sweats, he leaves the bathroom and finds that Evan is laying in bed with his phone in his hand while he taps at it. He gives Tommy a sleepy smile and Tommy feels his heart and lungs go molten and soft. One smile from Evan Buckley and he’s a human lava cake, it’s ridiculous.

“Sorry, I was trying to keep myself awake, but it’s been a long day,” Evan says, yawning.

“Yeah,” Tommy agrees, stretching out next to him. “Tell me about it.”

Evan puts his phone on his nightstand and wriggles down until he’s laying on his side and facing Tommy. “You first.”

“Nuh-uh. Mine was normal job stuff, you had to track down a groom with amnesia.”

The story is almost unbelievable, and Tommy watches every movement of Evan’s face as he talks, wanting to catalog every expression.

“—and then they got married in the hospital. And you came,” Evan finishes with a soft, shy smile.

“Of course I did,” Tommy says, covering Evan’s hand on the mattress. “I said I would.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“But I wanted to.”

Evan’s cheeks flush prettily. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“How’d you get there?”

Tommy chuckles. “I got dropped off in the ambulance bay by a water truck.”

He starts to recount his own day—a massive fire, stubborn and seemingly endless—but finds himself blinking slower and slower as he talks. Before he knows it, he’s trailing off mid-sentence and catching himself as he nods off.

“Finish the story tomorrow,” Evan says, leaning in and kissing him. “Bedtime now.”

They get under the duvet, and Tommy gets pulled against Evan. It’s nice being able to drape himself over someone. Most of his exes have been smaller than him, because he’s a big guy and doesn’t meet too many other big guys who are interested.

“G’night,” Evan mumbles, kissing the top of his head.

“Good night,” Tommy whispers, closing his eyes.

He falls asleep quickly, sleeping heavily. He wakes up once because Evan is squirming and releases his hold on him. Instead of pulling away, Evan rolls on to his side and snuggles back against him with a sleepy mumble that Tommy can’t understand as he drifts off again.

When he wakes up, it’s because of the sunlight filtering through the window. It’s not direct, so it’s pleasant and golden rather than searing. It highlights the blonde in Evan’s curls, and Tommy wonders if he can convince him to grow them out. He wonders how his face looks, but he’s too warm and comfortable to move, so he contents himself with looking at the back of his head and stroking his thumb over Evan’s abdomen.

“Mm, hey,” Evan says, half-rolling toward him, already smiling. Tommy kisses his cheek, and he can feel it shift under his lips as Evan’s smile broadens. “Hungry?”

“Yeah, but I can wait,” Tommy says, keeping his voice soft. He doesn’t want to break the moment. He only gets to wake up with Evan for the first time once.

Evan rolls onto his back and stretches, his face scrunching adorably, and then he curls toward him. His hands tangle with Tommy’s, and his hair tickles Tommy’s forehead. His eyes are already closed again, and Tommy can see the crease in his cheek from his pillow. He’s the most beautiful person Tommy’s ever seen.

“Sure?” Evan mumbles.

“Yeah,” Tommy replies, kissing his slack lips. Evan presses back, but it’s delayed. His eyes don’t open when Tommy pulls back and settles his head back on his pillow.

Evan’s breathing evens out and deepens again, and Tommy watches him until he drifts off, too.

–

They’re tangled together under a duvet and sheet that are probably ruined, and Tommy lets out a soft noise when Evan kisses his chest.

“Not again,” he pleads, laughing.

“But it’s our first night,” Evan whines playfully, his face appearing over Tommy’s. “As husbands.”

“You’re right,” Tommy agrees, pulling him down into a kiss.

Except all they can do at this point is make out, because they’d left their reception and gone straight to their hotel and up to their suite about five hours ago. Tommy’s going to wake up as a husk. He drains half a water bottle in a few gulps, gives the rest to Evan, and then they cuddle back under the blankets.

“What was your favorite part about today?” Evan asks, holding his left hand up and wiggling his fingers so his wedding band catches the light. “Other than marrying me.”

“Mm, dancing with you,” Tommy replies, snuggling close and closing his eyes. “Seeing you in your suit for the first time. Bobby stopping the ceremony so the ducks could cross.”

Evan laughs and kisses his hair. “Yeah, that was cute.”

“What about you?”

“All of those things, too, and just looking around and realizing I was in a place full of people I love with the guy I love by my side for the rest of our lives.”

Tommy smiles. “That sounds pretty good, too.”

“Yeah, it’s kinda great.”

He falls asleep reluctantly, not wanting to miss any moment of their first night as husbands. But when he wakes up, he sees Evan stretched out next to him with a small puddle of drool under his mouth, and he realizes he gets to have his first morning with his husband.

He could grab his phone and take a picture, but he’s afraid of waking Evan up, even though he’ll do that himself shortly if his internal clock has anything to say about it. Instead, Tommy pulls the duvet up, burrowing under it and settling in for a bit of creepy staring.

When Evan does wake up, Tommy’s got the duvet up to his chin and is watching him with probably the dumbest lovestruck expression on his face. Evan blinks at him before his face splits in a sunny grin, and he pulls the duvet up, too, tugging Tommy to him and tangling their limbs together.

“We got married,” Evan whispers, sounding awed.

“Yeah,” Tommy whispers back, grinning.

They break into giggles and Tommy gives into the wave of cute aggression that hits, squeezing Evan as tight as he can for a moment. He lets up, but Evan returns the favor and bites his shoulder before pulling back, his eyes sparkling.

“We’re ma-a-arried,” he singsongs, drawing the word out like he’s taunting Tommy on a playground.

Tommy grabs him and rolls onto his back, crushing himself under the ridiculous weight of his ridiculous husband. His entire face gets showered with kisses, and he tries to catch Evan’s lips for a proper kiss. He’s too fast.

“Let me love on you,” he whines. He never whines. Bitches, yes. Complains, always. He doesn’t whine. But he’ll whine for his husband.

Evan stills and looks at him expectantly until Tommy cups his hand under Evan’s chin to draw him into a kiss. It’s wet and filthy and has them thrusting against each other almost immediately.

“Thought you were done,” Evan gasps out, hand digging under the pillows until he comes up with the bottle of lube.

“Nope,” Tommy says, biting his lip and holding Evan’s hips steady. All it takes is a quick swipe of lube, and then Evan is sinking down on him. “It’s a new day.”

Evan gives him a hazy grin and kisses him. “It’s our first day. As husbands. It’s our first morning sex—”

“As husbands,” Tommy finishes, grinning back.

They keep breaking into giggles. Tommy feels fizzy inside, like he’s had that magical soda from Willy Wonka and could float to the ceiling at any moment. He comes with a gasp into Evan’s neck and smiles against his mouth as he gets Evan off with his hand.

“We get to do this every morning—that our schedules line up—forever,” Evan says, collapsed on him and in seemingly no hurry to move. “I mean, we didn’t need to get married to do that, but—”

“But then I couldn’t get all my nametags redone to say ‘Buckley-Kinard.’”

Evan sighs and rubs his cheek against Tommy’s shoulder. “I like the sound of that. Do you think they'll fit on one line on our turnouts?”

“Yeah, they’ll be fine.” Tommy nuzzles his hair and smiles. “Baby?”

“Yes, pookie?”

“I have to pee so bad.”

Evan flops onto his back with a dramatic sigh. “The romance is dead.”

“Uh-huh,” Tommy agrees before heading into the bathroom. He starts the shower when he’s done and lets the water heat up while he brushes his teeth. Evan shuffles in shortly thereafter and also pees. “Wanna get back in bed after we shower?”

“Absolutely,” Evan says, using the second sink to wash his hands and brush his own teeth. “And then we can watch whatever’s on the TV until we fall back asleep.”

Tommy rinses his mouth and kisses Evan’s shoulder. “I’ll order room service.”

“Fuck Paris and Rome, this is the perfect honeymoon,” Evan says around a mouthful of toothpaste foam. “Oh, my god, do you think they have PBS?”

“Evan, everyone has PBS,” he points out, stepping into the shower.

They settle into bed with plates of pancakes balanced on their laps while they watch This American Land, and Tommy feels completely and utterly content.

“Love you,” Evan says, pressing a sticky syrup kiss to his shoulder.

“Love you,” Tommy replies, turning his head to kiss his nose. When it scrunches up, he gets that fizzy feeling again, and he hopes it never goes away.

#bucktommy #my fic #bucktommy fluffebruary

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ladykailitha · 3 days ago

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The Caged Bird Still Sings Part 23

Here we are, the penultimate chapter. And the second sex scene. So definitely be forewarned there. This is the chapter where they talk and Steve explains the title. Well, they both do really.

I'm sad to see this story end, but I've got so many good stories waiting in the wings so it's a good thing, too.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22

Steve was waiting up in the foray of the hotel lobby reading the newspaper when Eddie and the rest of Corroded Coffin got in.

He looked up at the sound of the chains and jewelry jingling above the hushed whispers. They all looked happy and excited. Which meant their day with Mike went well. Which was good.

Eddie spotted Steve first and stopped in his tracks, as around him the boys rough housed. Then one by one they too spotted Steve. They took in what he was wearing and teased Eddie before they left him standing there, staring at Steve, frozen in place.

Steve was wearing a white suit with a sheer white mesh top, so that it neatly showed off his hairy chest and happy trail. His hair was artfully styled and the whole outfit was topped off with black designer boots. In other words he sat there looking like sex on legs.

Eddie ran his fingers through his hair as he placed the other hand on his hip. “Damn, little Canary, you look good enough to eat.”

Steve smirked, licking his upper lip. He put away the newspaper carefully and deliberately. Then he stood up and Eddie was able to take in the full effect including that delicious show of the outline of Steve’s cock.

Eddie crooked his finger and Steve came willingly. Eddie tugged on the golden chain around Steve’s neck and pulled out the gold and citrine canary necklace that Eddie had given to Steve that first day at the hotel.

“Are you mine, baby?” he purred. “Have you decided that you’ll take everything I have to offer. But especially me?”

Steve nodded looking into his eyes. “Everyone kept calling me a kept man or sugar baby to your sugar daddy. But both of those things imply that I’m accepting everything you gave in exchange for sex. But we’ve only ever had sex the once.”

Eddie smiled softly. “That’s right, little Canary. You’re not either of those things. So what are you then?”

“I’m a caged bird,” Steve replied with a soft smile. “The price for a roof over my head and all my needs met is a cage. On that is open for me to fly out at any time, but why would I want to? Not when I have you to take care of me.”

“The caged bird still sings,” Eddie said, his smile growing, “because it is loved and cared for, is that it?”

Steve’s smile transformed into a grin. “Yeah.”

“I like the metaphor, little Canary,” Eddie breathed and then pressed his lips to Steve’s, his fingers still wrapped around the necklace, keeping Steve tethered to him.

Steve wrapped his arms around Eddie’s neck and leaned into the kiss. Eddie’s free hand slid under the jacket of the suit and to the small of Steve’s back, pressing them even further together.

“You look too pretty to just take you up to your room and rip those delicious clothes off,” Eddie murmured. “So let me at least buy you a drink in the hotel bar and chat you up a bit first.”

Steve giggled and nuzzled their noses together. “I think that sounds like a great idea, Eddie.”

Eddie shivered at the sheer desire in Steve’s voice. It took everything in his power to take that step back, and slide his hand into Steve’s. Then he led the way to the bar and ordered them both a drink.

“So what made you decide you wanted this with me, darlin’?” Eddie purred as he swirled around the whiskey in his hand.

Steve cocked his head to side as he sincerely thought about it. “I think the first step was bitching out Chrissy for her ideas about us. I wasn’t going to let her chose the narrative of someone she had only met once in a dimly lit bar. I may have been a queen bitch in high school, but trust me, I won’t stand for people talking shit about me behind my back if I can help it.”

“That was an impressive speech you gave, little Canary,” Eddie murmured, rubbing his thumb over Steve’s knuckles.

“Like before you came back,” Steve murmured, running his fingers through his hair nervously, “I had even wondered if the only reason I wasn’t your sugar baby was because you were on tour. But then you came home and were so respectful, it kind of pushed those thoughts out of my head.”

Eddie smiled gently and took Steve’s hand to give it a squeeze. “That was what I was hoping I was doing.”

“Congrats, it really worked,” Steve replied with a chuckle. “Then when I met your uncle and saw his home and the life you had given him.” He shook his head fondly. “Then you said that me marrying you for buy me a house was an incentive and not a deterrent...I–”

“And you wanted that too,” Eddie finished for him. “Make no mistake, little Canary, I will buy you a house with everything you’ve every wanted in a home and make it ours.

Steve blushed and then got this far away look in his eyes and sighed wistfully. “Then when you got out of your car to pick up Mike, it was the hottest thing I’d ever seen and I wanted all of it. I want to be your little Canary, I want to sing for you in all the ways I know how. So Robin helped me pick out the outfit to seduce you in.”

“Consider me seduced,” Eddie purred. “I wasn’t lying when I said you looked good enough to eat.”

Steve blushed and ducked his head. He looked up at Eddie through his lashes. “I can’t wait for you to take care of me.”

Eddie’s eyes widen and his nostrils flared as his desire ramped up. “Damn, little Canary, I’m going to make you feel so good, you’ll think you rocketed to the moon with all the stars you’ll be seeing.”

Steve through back his head and laughed. “I wasn’t aiming for an innuendo, but I really still should have seen that one coming–” He stopped to snort at his own joke. “Wrong word! God!”

Eddie burst out laughing too. “Someone’s got sex on the brain today,” he smirked, wagging his eyebrows.

“Have you looked in the mirror, babe?” Steve purred. “I’m pretty sure you short-circuited poor Mike’s brain when you stepped out of that sports car. It took everything I had not jump you right there in front of the thirteen year old.”

“I wasn’t really thinking about what I was wearing today,” Eddie said with a huff of laughter. He took a sip of his whiskey, his other hand never leaving Steve’s. “I just threw on what was clean and that I would be comfortable recording in.”

Steve smiled. “Well it worked on me.”

Eddie hummed his agreement.

They talked and had a couple of drinks, just reveling in each other’s company. Like they were slotted into each other’s lives like they had always been right there.

Then Eddie stood up and gently led Steve up the elevator to Eddie’s room. It was almost identical to Steve’s, but minus all the bird paraphernalia and instead covered with guitars and band merch.

His hands came up and slowly slid Steve’s suit jacket off his shoulders and on to the floor. Steve smirked, but allowed Eddie to undress him. Eddie untucked the shirt and got his fingertips on the happy trail that had been tantalizing him all night.

Steve let out a little gasp of pleasure as Eddie’s thumbs caught in his belt loops, pulling them closer together. Then the shirt came off and Eddie sank to his knees, pulling on the belt to undo it. He unbottoned and unzipped the pants.

Eddie licked his lips at the sight before him. “Naughty boy, going commando in those tight pants. You must be a sin.”

“I thought I was your angel,” Steve breathed, burying his hands into his own hair, back arching from the sheer want rolling off Eddie in waves. “I’m pretty sure you called me heaven sent at the very least.”

Eddie’s head rocked back and looked up from the tasty, teasing morsel in front of him. “You remember that?”

Steve grinned. “I don’t remember a lot about what happened that, but yeah. I called you sin and you called me heaven sent.”

“Well, I take it back, baby,” Eddie said, returning his attention back on the bounty in front of him. “You’re sin and I’m the sinner.” He slid Steve’s pants down his legs and then gently removed each boot until Steve was standing in front of him stark naked and looking good enough to eat.

“I’m going to feast tonight,” he murmured and then slowly stood back up. He kissed Steve deeply as Steve wrapped his arms around his neck, his hands going for that gorgeous ass. He swept Steve off his feet and carried him laughingly to the bed.

He gently laid Steve on the bed and then began to strip himself. Steve propped himself up on his elbows as he watched Eddie uncover more and more of his skin. And that’s when he spotted it; a new tattoo.

Right where the torso met the leg was a little yellow canary.

“See something you like, sweetheart?” Eddie said lasciviously. He crawled on the bed and straddled Steve’s thighs.

Steve flopped back onto the pillows and his thumb rubbed the tattoo. Then he looked up adoringly at Eddie. “When did you get that?”

“You like that?” Eddie teased and then kissed him on the lips. He whispered into Steve’s ear, “I got that in Indy the day after I met you, baby.”

Steve moaned, throwing his head back. “It took me four months to realize I was in love with you, but here you are going out and getting a tattoo about me the next day! I thought I was unhinged.”

“Sorry, Stevie,” Eddie cackled, “but you had me hooked since day one.”

He grabbed the lube from his nightstand and pressed a kiss to Steve’s neck. “I’ve spent so much time jerking off to that first time because it was all I could think about.”

Steve’s body shuddered with desire and lust. “I’ve come thinking about you, too. Your voice has the power to turn me on like nothing else.”

“You like my voice, baby?” Eddie purred as ground down, causing Steve to gasp. “You like it when I talk to you?” Steve nodded, biting on his lip.

“The things I’m going to do to you, pretty boy,” he continued, his free hand tracing the lines of Steve’s torso, going low.

Steve grabbed Eddie’s thighs for dear life as Eddie kept grinding their cocks together.

“I’m going to lube you up,” Eddie purred. “I’m going spread those pretty thighs, so deliciously thick.” He slithered down the bed to bite Steve’s left thigh, causing Steve’s back to arch off the bed.

Eddie spread his legs, kissing and biting where he could. “Then I’m going to start with one finger all nice and slick from the lube.”

Action followed his words and he pressed one finger into Steve’s hole.

“Oh god!” Steve breathed. “It feels so good.”

Eddie continued to work at Steve’s hole, pushing in and out as his other hand wandered over his thighs, his stomach, his sides, everywhere but his cock.

“Then I’m going to add a second finger,” Eddie purred. “Really work you open.”

He must have hit a really good spot because Steve shuddered and moaned. “Look at you, little Canary. Singing for me.”

Steve’s sounds got louder and more enthusiastic with that little encouragement.

Eddie kept describing what he was going to do and then doing until Steve was on the edge and was as open as Eddie could comfortably get him.

“You ready, baby?” he asked, lining up his cock.

“Yes, Eddie,” Steve begged. “I need you fuck me so good. I need it.”

As Eddie slid in he leaned over to kiss Steve filthily on the mouth. “And whatever you need I’m here to give it to you.”

Steve whimpered. “You’re so good to me.”

“It is my honest pleasure.”

Eddie began thrusting deep inside him, Steve continuing to make the most delicious sounds as they fucked.

“Touch me, Eddie,” Steve murmured. “Let me come. I want to come, please. I need it, so much.”

“”You’ve got it, Stevie,” he said softly. “I want us to come together, do you think you can hold off just a little more?”

Steve’s eyes were wide and blown with desire. “I’ll try. For you.”

Eddie pressed a kiss to Steve’s jaw. “I know. You’re so good to me.”

He gently took Steve’s cock in hand and began to slide up and down in time with his thrusts.

Soon Steve was arching off the bed. “Please, Eddie!”

“Go ahead, baby,” Eddie moaned. “Come for me.”

He jerked his hips one more time and was coming in Steve as he spurted out ribbon after ribbon of cum all over his chest.

Eddie’s eyes fluttered shut as he finished. He slowly opened his eyes and saw that Steve was completely blissed out underneath him.

He pressed a quick kiss to Steve’s jaw and then got up to clean them off. When he came back with a wet hand towel, he had to stop and stare at the sight before him.

Steve had one arm thrown behind his head and the other hand was pressed into the cooling cum on his stomach, panting for breath.

“Did I wear you out, little Canary?” Eddie teased as he loped over to the bed.

“Fuck, Eddie,” he murmured. “If this how sex is going to be all the time, I don’t think I’ll ever get out of bed ever again.”

Eddie chuckled and then got to work cleaning up his newly minted boyfriend. Then he tucked them into the large bed.

“I love you, sweetheart,” he whispered into Steve’s ear as they curled up together.

Steve pecked his lips. “I love you too, Eddie. So much.”

Then they drifted off to sleep together.

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @itsall-taken @wheneverfeasible @zerokrox-blog @beelze-the-bubkiss @blondie1006

2- @gregre369 @a-little-unsteddie @themoonagainstmers @cryptid-system @maya-custodios-dionach

3- @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @irregular-child

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1

5- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

6- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

7- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @w1ll0wtr33 @sticknpokelightningbolt @just-a-tiny-void

8- @scoops-aboy86 @kurofuckingshi16 @watermelonmite @eyehartart @dreamercec

9- @little-birch-boy @yearningagain @micheledawn1975 @sadisticaltarts @steddieislife

10- @fearieshadow @kultiras @thesecondfate @tartarusknight @genderless-spoon

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #rockstar eddie munson #age difference #ten years between steve and eddie

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softestqueeen · 2 days ago

Note

if your prompt requests are still open, could you do prompt 17 with gn!reader x könig? maybe sprinkle in some friends to lovers if you feel like it as well🙏

prompt: "Don't be silly, I want to stay up with you." a/n: this is very out of character for könig, but oh yeah. i hope you still like it! enjoy <3 warnings: fluff, a lil bit of comofrt, brief mention of nightmares, love confession, kissing pairing: roommate!könig x gn!reader I 1,110 words special prompts I special masterlist

It wasn't often that you and your roommate König got to spend time together. Unfortunately, with him being on deployment most of the time and you woking a busy job, there weren't many opportunities for the two of you to spend time with each other.

Still, you and him both loved the movie nights you spent cuddled up on the couch or occasionally on Königs bed. In these rare cases he was very glad that he wore a mask, because you - his best friend - on his bed next to him, all cuddled up and comfortable made his heart beat faster and a blush creap up his neck.

The soldier had been harboring feelings for you ever since you first met about 2 years ago, when you applied to be his roommate. He immediately told you that you could move in and that his home was now also yours. Everytime he saw you, he couldn't belive his eyes, your face so perfectly balanced, you body so well shaped and your height - you were just so perfect in every way.

But he knew, a man like him, who had casued so much pain in the past would never deserve someone as pure as you. Still, he enduldged here and there with your movie nights.

You were currently sitting on Königs bed while he was getting snacks, ready to enjoy your next film pick. Tonight it was your turn after König got to pick last time, though it doesn't really matter. He always chose movies he thought you could like and didn't really think about himself during those moments.

Once he returned from the kitchen with a bowl of popcorn and a bag of sweets, he slipped under the blanket next to you, wearing only a pair of sweats, a long sleeved shirt and of course his mask. Though you had seen him without, he prefered to keep it on and you respected that.

Now under the blanket he could feel your body heat next to him and for the next two hours he couldn't concentrate on anything but you, as usual. Everytime you laughed you felt his eyes on him and when the surprisingly sad ending made you cry, König offered you his beefy shoulder which you gladly excepted.

But, all good things eventually must come to an end, so you bid him a good night and slipped out of his bed, leaving only traces of your perfume behind.

This meant only one thing for König - a restless night of yearning was ahead of him. He desperately needed you close to him, his body practically calling for you but he wouldn't dare to confess his feelings. He'd rather be only your friend forever than be a stranger to you.

Surprisingly, he slipped into a light sleep very fast, though his mind wasn't as kind to him. At first his dream seemed more or less normal, there was you and him in a grocery store. The dream took a quick turn though and once his dream turned into a nightmare he jolted upright, a scream tearing from his throat before he could stop himself.

His breathing heavily and prayed to whoever was out there that he didn't wake you up. The fast and sudden footsteps that he could now hear in your shared flat though told him something else.

You didn't even knock before tearing open his door, you eyes quickly searching for an intruder. Once you saw König breathing heavily it dawned on you what happened and you let out a breath.

Slowly, you krept towards his bed and put one of your hands on his shoulder. He flinched slightly beofre relaxing into your touch.

"Did you have a nightmare?" though the answer was obvious you still wanted to be sure. König only answered with a short nod, before moving aside so you could slip underneath the blanket next to him.

You didn't hesitate to accept his quiet invitation. It wasn't often that you really noticed that he was having a nightmare, usually he wouldn't dare talk about it. But sometimes you did catch wind of it and never hesitated to comfort him.

This meant you also had a little routine for cases like this. You leaned back against the headboard, slightly propped up, allowing Königh to put his head in the crook of your neck and slightly cover your torso with his. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and drew mindless shapes on them.

You didn't ask about what the dream contained, he never told you.

"You don't always have to comfort me and stay up with me, you know. I appreciate it, but you can go back to your room and get some sleep," König interrupted the silence that had formed around you. It pained you to hear the slight insecurity and uncertainty in his voice.

"Don't be silly, I want to stay up with you. I wouldn't be able to sleep anyways if I knew that you would be here all alone with your worries," you reassured him.

The warmth in his words made his heart ache and in that moment he knew he had to tell you how he felt. He didn't care if it could potentially end your friendship, but he realised he had to take the chance.

"I have to tell you something, I haven't been completely honest with you," his words made your breath slightly hitch and your hand on his shoulder stilled, "I have to confess, I am in love with you and have been since we first met. Every time you show me so much kindness that I dodn't deserve it pains me to know that you are not mine. If you don't feel the same, that's fine, but I thought you should know." His head was now angled more towards you, his shiny eyes making contact with his. Moments like these were also the only instances where you saw him without his mask and his beauty made your heart roar.

"Hey, don't say that. You deserve so much love, you know. And it's silly that you don't think I feel the same about you, because I do. I love you too, so much. I'm surprised you haven't realised yet."

König couldn't belive what he was hearing. Once he had been staring at you for some time, he realised he should probably say something. Or rather, do something.

He propped himself up on one of his arms, so he wa face to face with you. He leaned forward and lightly placed his lips on top of yours, and oncce you kissed him back, he knew he would never let you go again.

the requests for this event are closing today, so be quick if you still want to request something! here are the prompts!

a/n: i hope you liked this, if so please leave some notes, likes, reblogs and comments! feedback is very appreciated!

please also consider supporting my ao3: @ softestqueeen

requests open! (now also for the x files)

taglist: @silvermagnolias@milywatermelon@bigbananaa @mmmmokdok

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sunnie-angel · 1 day ago

Text

SAVE A HORSE RIDE A COWBOY

ugh this fic was so good! the push pull dynamic, jason’s theatrics, the way reader won’t let him get away with an inch when he tries to take a mile. more thoughts below:

Plenty of people had two guns; what made him so special he got a moniker for them?

love how we immediately know what kind of person reader is — and she’s not wrong!

His accuracy is an assurance that you were intentionally left alive.

ominous

“What, these your important plans with Mask or something?”

jason needs to be in a traveling theatre troupe and NOT an outlaw gang

You remember the boy who gave you a handpicked bouquet of prairie flowers wrapped with that ribbon.

this is cotton candy sweet

“Let me guess. It didn’t work out too well for loverboy? Didn’t get your happy ending, sweetheart?”

JASON stop antagonizing her! like i know it’s because he just wants to know if he was missed but sir! there are better ways to go about it that don’t make her want to kill you!

You never found out where Jason was buried, so leafing through his letters felt the same as desecrating his grave. You want Two Guns dead for that.

god just the symbolism of it all — jason’s digging his way through his own grave. she wants to put him in one.

A gun emerges from one of his holsters, the barrel nudging up the brim of his hat like some kind of polite nod before slipping out.

HOT. but also sooooo cocky

He was alive, and he chose not to let you know.

isn’t that just the deepest cut? that he chose not to

You wonder what that changes between you, if anything.

this!!!! for as much as he’s changed, so has she. how can he condemn himself and not her for it?

But you can’t help but savor the thought of feeling something other than everlasting grief when you think of him.

feeling so sick. this is the first time she’s thought of him without grief. THIS IS THE FIRST TIME SHES THOUGHT OF HIM WITHOUT GRIEF

You knew what you had. You’d known just as well what you’d lost.

mags I am sending you my therapy bill

Not happy, after all this time, there are still some things you’ll always have a read on.

she’ll always know him! even when it’s inconvenient or he doesn’t want to be known, she’ll still be there

“Rochester loves to run.”

I’ll take a literary reference by Jason Todd for 500

He’s as real as you are, and your heart pounds with the ache of it.

that’s the rub, isn’t it? how can you trust it isn’t a dream when this is everything that you’ve always dreamed of?

And as you glance away as well, you realize his shame may be coming from not his actions but his reaction to your stern voice.

cackling evilly

While you kiss him, there’s no history, and yet there’s all the history in the world.

what a line!!!! what a beautiful gorgeous line that conveys the weight of their love story

Hell Knows It's Got A Home For Folks Like Me

Summary: After losing your childhood sweetheart, you sought a life of adventure. Years down the line, when your gang is gunned down by the notorious outlaw 'Two Guns,' you find the life you've built for yourself turning upside down

Pairing: Cowboy!Jason Todd x Outlaw!reader

Words: 7.2k

Content/warnings: kidnapping, brief descriptions of scars and wounds, grief, longing, hidden identity shenanigans, real threats turning to playful threats, jason likes when you're mean to him, p in v sex, reader is not described, 18+ MDNI

You always thought ‘Two Guns’ was a bad nickname. Plenty of people had two guns; what made him so special he got a moniker for them?

The speed, you understood, was what made him so special. The precision of his shots, even on the back of his galloping horse. Even as he took out most of your crew mates, some part of you was stunned by the way he moved.

Black Mask rode off and didn’t look back, leaving anyone still alive for dead. Two Guns was happy to oblige, scattering bodies all along the pasture.

His accuracy is an assurance that you were intentionally left alive. Prairie grass tickles your nose as he pins you to the ground. You struggle like a wild animal against the weight of his knee as it presses into your back.

“Get off me!” you snarl, trying to wrench your arm from his iron grip.

He lets out a scoff as he ties you up with a casualness that warns you he’s done this before.

If he ever thought the Black Mask gang posed as a threat, that threat didn’t include you. The thought prickles at your nerves, makes you want to spit if you could only crane your neck enough.

“Not a chance,” is his only reply. A terse muffle beneath his red bandanna. The leather of his gloves brushes against your wrists as he ropes them together before moving down to your ankles.

“Mask isn’t gonna pay for me,” you say. “You’re wasting your time. Just let me go!”

He doesn’t say anything as he hoists you up onto the back of his horse, chuckling at every threat you make against him on the way back to his camp. Given your current situation—reduced to some spoil of war—you thought your ride would be rockier, yet Two Guns takes the ride easily with you dangling over the back of his horse.

His people seem surprisingly pleased to see him. Certainly far from the reception Mask gets, but you know most of your late crew mates weren’t in the gang for love. Most of them are dead now, their lives abandoned all from the service of a man who only saw them as bodies to shield him from men like the one currently hauling you from his horse.

Two Guns shoves you towards a little tent set up at the edge of camp. Only when he plops you down on a stool inside that you get a somewhat decent look at him. He’s no longer a blur of endless action. The bandana makes it difficult to tell his age. All you can make out is the sea of his eyes, something playful glinting within them.

“What do you want?” you ask, eyes narrowed in on him.

His dark, scarred brow quirks up. The small narrowing of his eyes suggests he’s smirking at you. Right now, you feel more irritation than fear. “Black Mask usually doesn’t keep such nice company,” he says as if that answers your question. Before you can demand an answer, he pulls out the sack you’d been carrying. He must have grabbed it after he’d tied you up.

You struggle against your restraints to no avail. “Stay out of there!”

Everything clamors together as he rifles through the bag carelessly, tossing its contents onto the bedroll on the ground as he goes. He ignores your small sack of money, the small folio of maps, even the little journal of jotted notes, only to pause at a stack of yellowed envelopes.

“You’ve got a lotta junk in there,” he says nonchalantly as he turns the bundle over in his hand.

The sight of your name scrawled across those envelopes in that familiar boyish handwriting makes something snap inside of you. “Put those back!” you snarl, a new ferocity burning in your voice.

You finally catch Two Guns’ attention. “What, these your important plans with Mask or something?” He takes a step closer to you.

You’ve got plenty of choice opinions on Two Guns from everything you’ve seen of him so far, but you know he’s not stupid. If he wanted your plans with Black Mask, he could have them, but he’s already tossed them aside in favor of old letters.

“They’re nothing to you,” you reply.

“Nothing, huh?” he challenges. He undoes the tight knot binding the stack together. Your eyes follow the red ribbon as it drifts to the ground.

You remember the boy who gave you a handpicked bouquet of prairie flowers wrapped with that ribbon.

“Stop it.”

He doesn’t. Paper rustles as Two Guns pulls the letter from its envelope. You can’t make out the expression in his eyes as they scan the page.

The silence is agonizing. The sounds of Two Guns’ crew moving about camp are the only thing filling the void. You stare at the worn page in a stranger’s hand. Pages rumpled from being held to your heart as you cry and remember the boy you’d lost.

“Aw, a beau at home, huh?” he asks, glancing up from the paper.

“Put it back.”

“You carry these around with you everywhere?”

Another fruitless jerk against the ropes around your wrists. “What do you want?” you demand, your patience with his games growing thin.

Two Guns slips the letter back in the envelope, his eyes fixed on you as he does. “I want to know what a nice thing like you is doing running around with Black Mask.”

A nasty glower grows on your face. “Tough luck.” You don’t want to lose your indignation, but thinking of the words in those letters makes your heart twist in your chest.

In the schoolyard, your life seemed so perfectly laid out. You loved a boy who promised you forever. A boy whose heart seemed as wild as your own. Someday, you’d leave town, just you and him. Run away to a place just for the two of you.

Just after he turned seventeen, a falling out between Jason and his adopted father had him off to search for his birth mother. He’d promised you he’d come back for you once he found her. That you both could finally make the lives you wanted for yourselves.

In place of him, a letter found you in town. Jason’s mother had traveled with a bad crowd, and he’d gotten caught up in the middle of it.

Your mourning stretched out endlessly because moving on from him felt so unfair. Somewhere in these meadows, your heart laid buried. The walls of the life you were supposed to build together crumbled around you, and you were the only one left to clean it up. So you left. Getting married off to someone who wasn’t Jason was no life you could live. And if you could no loner find adventure with him, you would find it on your own. You never chose Black Mask out of any respect or adoration; he had money, and you needed some of it.

Two Guns gives an unimpressed hum at your resistance before pulling out another letter, eyes skimming the page again. “Let me guess. It didn’t work out too well for loverboy? Didn’t get your happy ending, sweetheart?”

Fury roars in your chest. “You don’t get to talk about him.”

Those blue eyes study you thoroughly for a moment before he puts the letter back in its envelope. The pile of letters scatter across his bedroll as he tosses them down. If you mouthed off to Black Mask like this, he’d probably kill you. For a moment, you think Two Guns might be the same.

“They feed you in Mask’s camp?” he asks instead with an evenness that makes you see red. You always knew how Black Mask was feeling from his incessant yelling. But Two Guns is giving you next to nothing to work off of.

You watch him carefully, trying to put together what he’s really asking.

“Yes.”

His eyes pass over you again like he doesn’t believe you. You brace for more questions, but none come. Wordlessly, he slips from the tent, leaving you alone with your mind cobbling together a plan.

Maybe you can slip out the back of the tent. Steal a horse. Black Mask’s gang was heading to a job; you could try to catch up? The strategy has enough gaps you know you’re better off trying to level with Two Guns, but you can’t get the image of his hands all over your letters out of your head. He’d touched Jason’s letters. Read Jason’s words that were only ever meant for your eyes. All you have left of him.

For that, you hate Two Guns. For that, you don’t care if he feeds you or offers you safety. You never found out where Jason was buried, so leafing through his letters felt the same as desecrating his grave. You want Two Guns dead for that.

The wish is enough to drive you through the burn of rope against your raw skin as you wrestle with it. But before you can make any progress, he returns, a bowl of something in his large hand. You freeze, looking at him with your eyes burning with resentment.

“You gonna run if I cut the rope?” he asks, looking down at your bound ankles.

“No,” you lie. Two Guns chuckles like he knows, but he pulls a knife from his pocket regardless. Slowly, he approaches, crouching down without moving his eyes from yours. Those damn eyes that give you nothing to work off of.

The muscles of your legs stay tight, prepared to kick if he tries anything. His blade dips between your ankles, beneath the thick rope before sawing your legs free. He keeps staring up at you like he’s waiting for you to make your move.

You don’t.

He towers above you as he rises back to his full height, gaze never shifting. You feel certain he’s trying to intimidate you as he stalks behind you. The smooth leather of his glove holds your wrist in place. You feel the rope tugging against your raw skin as he cuts, and finally you’re free.

As quickly as you can, you try to pull your arms back in front of you, but Two Guns catches your wrist just above where they’re red before you can hide the evidence from him.

“No use trying to loosen those knots. You’re not the first person I’ve tied up, sweetheart,” he says. “As long as you don’t bolt, I’ll get you something for those burns.” He turns away from you—cocky bastard—and picks the bowl back up. “In the meantime, eat.”

You stare down at the chunks of something in a thick broth and look up at him skeptically. “What is it?”

“Well, it’s stew. I’m sure it’s nothing compared to the five course meals you get over in Black Mask’s camp, but it’s food.” Sarcasm. No one ever said Two Guns was such a charmer.

After you hesitantly take your bowl of mystery stew, he disappears from the tent. Your back straightens once you’re alone, setting down the stew to carefully peer through the gap in the tent. Two Guns talks to one of his crew, the expanse of his back blocking most of your view.

They speak low. From where you are, you can’t make out a single word, and Two Guns walks away before you can try to put it together through context. When he turns to rummage through a small box, you move quick to collect all your belongings strewn about Two Guns’ bedroll.

Your fingers are steady as you take great care to bind Jason’s worn letters back together—can’t say working with Black Mask never taught you anything—before tucking the bundle gently into the pocket where they’re always kept.

Time isn’t on your side, but experience is. Black Mask always had you sneak around when furtiveness was required from a job. Usually, however, you were sneaking up on belligerent drunks and not a notorious outlaw in the confines of his own tent. But desperate times call for desperate measures.

Two Guns may have swiped your gun when you brought you to his camp, but he famously has two. He doesn’t strike you as the sharing type, but you don’t let it deter you. You aren’t really the asking type, anyway.

You poise yourself, waiting for the moment his hand slips through the opening of the tent. As he emerges, you reach out as fast as you can for one of the holstered guns on his hip. Fingers curl around the cool metal and tug, turning the weapon onto him as soon as you retrieve it.

Two Guns is facing you before you have time to celebrate, one hand gripping your shoulder firmly. The other holds his remaining gun just below your chin.

“Don’t tell me the stew was that bad,” he says as he crowds you. When you don’t lower your weapon, he nudges your chin with his gun. “I’d like that back,” he says with a self-assured cock of his head.

“Or what?”

He laughs. “Or you’ll have to go out there and explain to the rest of my gang why their boss has a hole in his head.” He knows you’re in no position to follow through with your threat, but the idea of admitting defeat and giving him the gun back makes you livid.

You step back as he shepherds you back to your seat. With one hand still occupied by his gun, he fishes a roll of linen out of his pocket. “Now, if you don’t give me that back, I won’t be able to wrap your wrists, and I’d hate for you to get an infection.”

“I can take care of myself,” you refute. Two Guns seizes the moment the second it occurs, disarming you and sliding the gun back to its holster as soon as you’re even marginally distracted.

“Oh, I know that,” he says. You hear the smirk in his voice. And he’s passing you your bowl of stew again. Ripping strips of linen with practiced ease.

He’s lucky he got the gun when he did. You would have pulled the trigger the second you heard that arrogance.

One of his large hands stretches out for yours expectantly, the bandage dangling in his grip.

Irritation prickles up your spine. You stare at his hand as if you don’t understand what he wants from you. Take a long, petty slurp of your stew to fill the time, your eyes never leave his.

Two Guns keeps his eyes locked onto you, hand still held out for you. He knows our game, and he doesn’t seem keen on giving you the satisfaction of his annoyance. “May I see your wrist?” he asks evenly.

You consider tossing your bowl of stew onto him, but the lukewarm meal would only serve as a minor inconvenience. So you surrender with a sneer on your face, giving him one of your rope-burnt wrists.

“Thank you,” Two Guns replies, still speaking in that same even tone that’s been steadily growing on your nerves. He sinks a knee down into the earth. The leather of his glove warms your arm as he begins to wrap it up. You know he could hold you harder than he does.

He doesn’t see you as a threat. Another reason to hate him. You’ll find Mask, make sure he takes care of Two Guns once and for all. He just lost half his gang to him, and while you certainly have no true loyalties to Black Mask or his gang, you know he’s going to be hellbent on getting back at Two Guns. You just want to be there when it happens.

When one wrist is wrapped, he holds his hand out for the other. You give it to him, still trying to work out his plan here. Why not kill you? If he thinks you’re going to tell him anything about Black Mask, he’s got another thing coming. It wasn’t like he ever told you anything anyway. You were nothing but another body for his means to an end.

“There,” he says, when your tender skin is safe behind bandages. He drops your hand and rises to his feet. “Now, stay here, and I’ll get you sorted once I’m back from killing your boss.”

“I won’t tell you where he’s going.” Two Guns must think you’re loyal to Mask, which is a laugh. Right now, your strongest loyalty is to making Two Guns’ life as impossible as possible.

“Don’t need you to,” he replies. He pulls a stack of envelopes out of his pocket, shoving them into your hands, but you don’t even spare them a glance. “Now, my guys are a lot less nice than I am, so if you’re wise, you’ll stay in here.”

He takes a step back towards the flaps of the tent. You wait for him to turn around, disappear from the tent, but he just stares back at you for a moment. Rage burns in your chest again. You want to throw whatever he passed you down into the dirt, show him how little you care about anything he has to say to you.

A gun emerges from one of his holsters, the barrel nudging up the brim of his hat like some kind of polite nod before slipping out. Without hesitation, you storm after him. What does he mean get you sorted? What’s he going to do after Black Mask is dead and gone? His step doesn’t falter even after you protest after him.

One of his men catches you by the shoulder the second the light of the sunset hits your skin. “Two Guns says you’re stayin’ here,” he says.

The outlaw mounts a hulking stallion as your stopped. In the dark corners of your mind, you understand he would need a large horse to accommodate for the sheer bulk of him. You try not to entertain the thought. Two Guns helps, making your mind go completely blank as his eyes meet yours one last time.

His gaze feels like a suckerpunch. Somehow, it’s worse when he looks away.

When he rides off and the rush of horse hooves grows faint, you’re pushed back into your captivity. Only then, do you process he handed you something.

You sit back down on the stool looking down at the envelopes in your hand for the first time.

The tent feels as if it could be at the bottom of the lake you and Jason would swim in during the sun-drenched days of youth with the way the air seems to disappear. The familiar writing makes your hand tremble like responding to a long-forgotten call. The slopes and curves of the way your name is written. You know them by heart because they’re the same ones you seek when you miss Jason so badly everything within your body aches.

These letters feel like a trick. Your optimism has long vanished. So you pull out your own savored letters to make sure Two Guns hadn’t just snatched some earlier just to pass them back. But the weight of your bundle is the same as always, all letters accounted for.

Your only next guess is that Two Guns knows something of Jason’s death. He was somehow privy to more details than you. You, who waited in town for him to come home, only to be met with a letter from one of the guys he’d been running with. The one letter you never kept.

When you realize these are letters you’ve never read—letters from Jason with your name scrawled out on the front—you immediately begin to tear through them.

The first letter is dated two months after you were told Jason died. But these are his words, his penmanship, assuring you he’s alive. A close call, but he survived the shootout that was claimed to have killed him. He had things to do before he could see you again, but he assured you soon he would.

He alludes to letters he’s never sent in the next few, and slowly, your heart drops as you make the realization that Jason chose never to mail these to you. He was alive, and he chose not to let you know.

There’s a few months gap between letters until Jason writes to you to say he’s a bad man. He does bad things because someone needs to. He’s a bad man because he never came home to you, and now he’s not sure if he’s good enough. You wonder if the things you’d done to survive would qualify you as bad too. You wonder what that changes between you, if anything.

His last letter was written yesterday.

‘Two Guns’ Todd rode to your childhood home in search of you, only to find you were no longer there waiting for him. The townsfolk told him you left town after your childhood sweetheart was killed.

Jason didn’t know where you were, but he promised he would find you.

You don’t realize you’re crying until a tear drops. The ink bleeds across the page, and you gasp like you’ve ruined something sacred. But those words are no longer the words of a dead man. They’re the words of the man who’d lived all these years without you.

You stare down at the letters long after it’s grown too dark to read them, your mind racing as you try to grapple with what this means. Everything you’ve thought for the past two years has been a lie. The boy you loved had gotten to grow into a man without you knowing.

You’d uprooted your life with the grief of losing Jason. Searching to fill the void, you decided to listen to the call of adventure. To do something unrecognizable from the life you and Jason had imagined in the field behind the schoolhouse.

Outside the tent, your guards have fallen into a drunken sleep. Their snores overpower the chirping of crickets and the whirring of cicadas. To hell what Jason wants, you decide.

You make a quick escape with one of the men’s guns, a horse, and a lantern, riding towards Black Mask’s hideout.

Jason may have most of his crew with him, but every part of you needs to be with him now, even if you are absolutely livid with him. But you can’t help but savor the thought of feeling something other than everlasting grief when you think of him. You can scream at him, shove him, tell him you hate him because he’s alive. That’s nothing you’re going to take lightly. Not when you’ve spent your days wishing to see him one last time.

You think of the way he held your wrist as he bandaged it as horse hooves thunder through the night. You think of sunlight filtering through the leaves of trees the first time you kissed him and ran away, face burning with embarrassment. You think of years later when he’d held your hand and promised you forever, eyes burning with a certainty that only comes with youth.

You find Mask’s hideout, the rest of Jason’s gang hooting and hollering of a job well done. Your eyes skim the darkness for Jason, not daring to get closer unless you know he’s there. You’re not about to risk an escort back to camp without seeing Jason first.

“I had a feeling those two wouldn’t be able to stop you.”

The voice startles you. You prepare to be bucked, but Jason is already soothing your stolen horse. And then you realize the horse was never as startled as you to begin with. Its rubbing against his outstretched hand like a friend.

“You—”

“I know,” Jason says.

“I thought you were dead.”

Jason looks at you like you’re history. Like the part of him that held you was still buried in the earth where you thought his body was. Those years feel so much longer ago than they once did now that you’re looking at him again.

“I know you did, sweetheart,” he says, a pinch in his voice.

You scoff. “Don’t sweetheart me.”

“Alright then. Darlin’?” There’s challenge in his tone. His amusement with himself gets under his skin. Nips at your nerves. All this time, and this is how he treats you now that you finally know?

You slide down from the horse. His sturdy body barely moves when you give him a shove. He waits a beat. Lets the silence settle between the two of you, the sounds of his crew seemingly drowned out amidst the tension. “I take that as a no.”

He encroaches on your space as he takes a step closer, his broad shoulders closing in on you. His eyes glimmer with the longing from your youth, only now clouded with the weight of years passed.

Memories linger like a tune stuck in your head. You’d promised him everything. You’d meant it, too. But those days have faded away, hardened by the realities of life. Jason’s boyish grin came to you only in dreams, the only real place you had left to cling to him. So you’d thought, at least, because here he is. A phantom of the time you spent mourning him. The ache you’d carried inside your chest because you couldn’t hold him.

You knew what you had. You’d known just as well what you’d lost. A boy with a wild heart. One with kindness in his bones. He stole kisses behind the school when the teacher wasn’t looking. When he was old enough, he pursued greater ambitions, promising you the life you deserved one day.

The years haven’t been kind to you, and you imagine the same can be said about the man in front of you. Jason Todd, your honeysweet boy, didn’t become ‘Two Guns’ Todd for no reason. Fear lingers in the back of your mind that you’ll never get back what you had. That this reunion will end in bitterness when you realize all your childhood dreams were bolstered by naive optimism.

Whoops and hollers of a job well done still linger behind you, though Two Guns no longer seems to be in the mood to celebrate.

“We should talk.” Nearby flames make shadows flicker across his face. Now that you know the truth, you can’t imagine how you didn’t know immediately this was Jason. How the truth has bent him back into a shape you recognize.

“You’re damn right.”

“There’s an inn in town,” he says, crossing over to his horse.

You grip the reins of the horse you stole a little tighter. “And?” you inquire, eyes narrowing.

He tugs down the worn red bandana covering the lower half of his face. That alone is enough to knock the air right out of your lungs. That’s your Jason. Yes, he looks different—a scar along his top lip, another through his cheek—but it’s him.

“And we can talk there,” he replies, turning back towards you.

“Sounds like you’re just buying time,” you reply curtly.

He gives you another look. Both of you know you’re right. He’s not happy you called him out on it. Not happy, after all this time, there are still some things you’ll always have a read on. The men following Two Guns know him as the mysterious figure none of them dare to push. But you know Jason Todd. The sweet boy from class who always got the answers right. Who got in trouble for punching another boy because he made fun of you. The one who has always—would always—have a soft spot for you no matter how hard he tried to outrun it.

As you stand before him for the first time in five years,it dawns on you he hadn’t gone after Black Mask expecting for you to be there. His last letter—his real last letter—told you he would find you. He promised, just like he’d promised he’d come home for you. But he’d made a big show of it, made sure you didn’t know who he was beneath the bandana, so the fear seemed real for his audience. His audience, of course, being the gang you ran to when you couldn’t run to him. But this is your Jason; he’d never had any malicious intent. You didn’t know who he was, but he certainly knew you.

“Then will you allow me a little time?” he asks with a terse air of formality.

You don’t want to, but you agree. The foreign look on his face haunts you enough to not want to kick up any dust. Jason doesn’t run; you’ve always known that. You read what the past five years have been like. It’s not something he can dole out in casual conversation.

Riding beside each other in the night offers you time to think, though you’re not sure you appreciate it. Your thoughts seem to go as far and wide as the prairie, racing as fast as your horses.What happens now? When you were kids, everything was so clear cut, but neither of you went in a conventional direction. When it comes to outlaws, what is the protocol for a future?

As if he knows you’re sinking too deep into your thoughts, Jason spares you a glance. His bandana is pulled back up, but you just barely see his eyebrow quirk up in the darkness. Before you can make his meaning, he begins to speed up. He’s testing you. He wants to see what you’ve picked up since he last saw you, curious by the unexpected turn your life had taken you on.

You give your horse a small kick, speeding up alongside him, shooting him a glare when he glances back your way. You’ll indulge him, but you aren’t going to play around with him.

Or so you think as he starts to speed up again.

The glow of town is so faint in the distance, and his gang is long behind you. It’s just you and him, and that has you feeling bold. So you speed up again, still looking stern as you race beside him. “You’re gonna wear these horses down,” you call over the rush of hooves.

Jason’s eyes are crinkled at the corners again. “Naw,” he replies. “Rochester loves to run.”

As you get closer to town, Jason starts to slow down and you follow his lead. You worry about being a known associate of Black Mask alongside ‘Two Guns’ Todd, an incredibly prominent outlaw, but if Jason is concerned, he doesn’t bat an eye. You’re not sure if it’s his confidence or his reputation that gets you a room in the inn, but it’s certainly not the scowl on your face plastered there to make sure no one thinks you’re there for sex.

He tosses his hat on the bed first. Slips the leather gloves off his long, thick fingers. Fingers you remember as much nimbler from childhood. Hands that had fewer scars when you knew them. Finally, he hurries with the knot of his bandana, freeing himself of the burdens of hiding who he really is.

And now, as he stands before you, and it fully registers for the first time that this is Jason. Not a ghost, nor a haunted nightmare of who he could have been had he gotten to grow up. He’s as real as you are, and your heart pounds with the ache of it.

“Why didn’t you send those letters?” The flame of your anger seems to have been snuffed, now leaving you with only the energy to breathe your question.

Jason looks at you, pinched between the brows. “You read ‘em. You think they make me look very favorable?”

“Favorable?” you scoff. “God dammit, Jason, I thought you were dead. Who gives a damn about favor?”

He laughs. “You sound like you’ve been riding with a gang all this time.”

The attempt to diffuse your mood only fans the flame. You shove him again, this time harder than before. He has to take a step back to catch himself. His eyebrow quirks up at you again, and you want to smack the expression off his face.

“You were alive, and you never told me.”

“Well, sounds like you didn’t stick around very long to wait for me.” He’s still trying to tease you.

You give him another shove. His eyes light up with something. “I would have gotten married off! I couldn’t stay there and wait for someone who wasn’t you.” You shake your head, taking a step back to try and calm yourself down. Jason is just so damn sturdy now. He’s gone against the worst of the worst out here and come out on top. He’s survived death. What are a few pushes for him after that?

Before you can step away, Jason catches your wrist, just above where he’d bandaged them earlier.

“You went to Black Mask of all people,” Jason replies. He smooths his thumb over the linen wrappings gently despite the accusation in his voice. He touches you like he’s reading the signs of what happened to you while he was gone.

“I must have missed the word that Two Guns was looking for crew,” you chide.

From downstairs, you can hear the lively chatter of the people at the bar. Next door, you hear a happy paying customer moaning through the paper thin walls. And between you and Jason is silence, your words hanging heavy in the air.

In a show of the boy you knew, Jason’s cheeks flush slightly as he stares down at the ground, no longer able to meet your eyes. Good, you think. Let him feel ashamed of himself.

And as you glance away as well, you realize his shame may be coming from not his actions but his reaction to your stern voice. A bulge grows in his pants, and for a moment, your brain seems to slip away from your anger. But you only allow yourself the moment.

You’re mad. You have every right to be. You’d mourned for him. You’d planned a life without him in it after the heartbreak of losing him. And he has the nerve to get hard while you’re trying to get an apology.

Except you realize how big he is now. No longer the small, underfed boy you’d shared apples with in the schoolyard. Now he’s all muscle and strength from all of his many activities these past few years. He’s a fierce outlaw, and yet he’s still pink on the ears because of you.

You’re still angry, you remind yourself as your desire seems to catch up with you. You knew what it was like to be held by those hands when they were smaller. But now you can’t help but imagine them smoothing down your skin. You think of running your fingertips over the skin lightened by scar tissue. While he still glances away from you, your eyes flicker over him, hungry to know the grown up Jason.

When you push him again, he falls back onto the bed behind him, eyes surprised up at you. All it takes is a glance, and he knows exactly where your mind is. The hard-on jerks in his pants.

“I wanted you dead for the way you touched those letters,” you say. Jason blushes, but his eyes drink you in as you push him back against the headboard. “When you started opening them, I was thinking of all of the ways I’d get back at you.”

A warm palm wraps around your hip, pulling you close to him, but moves it as soon as he has you on his lap. Like he needs to touch you but can only stomach it for so long at a time like touching a pot still too hot from a flame. The grief that ate you alive was the longing he carried to have you in his life yet again.

One of your hands runs up his firm chest before your fingers curl around his thick neck. You don’t squeeze, but you feel his cock jerk against your thigh nonetheless.

“Lotta people have tried to kill me over the years, sweetheart,” he says, staring up at you like you’ve said something romantic.

Warmth shoots up to your stomach as you drag yourself across his lap. Jason’s punched out air brushes against your collar as he stifles a groan. “Did you let all of them get this close to you?” you whisper.

Jason is far from vulnerable with his guns still strapped on, but you know your Jason; his eyes are always on the prize, always have been since you were kids. You can’t imagine he’d been climbing into many beds when there was work to be done.

There’s no suave answer. Just a quick shake of his head as you drag yourself across his bulge. You duck your head into his neck, pressing your lips against the warm skin of his neck. His hands land on your hips again, curling into the fabric of your clothes. His breath is hot against your cheek.

“I got your gun earlier, didn’t I?” you ask, grinding against him yet again.

This time, he lets out a blissed sigh before he speaks. “Didn’t get you very far.” It’s subtle, but you catch the slight pitch in his voice.

You kiss along the muscles of his neck, feeling him jerk against your seam. Your hips roll into his again, trying to ease the aching between your legs. “I’ve got you distracted,” you murmur, grinding against him to prove a point.

The sound Jason makes is a mixture of a laugh and a groan. He bats his dark eyelashes open, looking at you like a long lost love. Your stomach flips with it. “You wouldn’t kill me now, would you?” he breathes.

You feel drunk on the sounds he makes. For the first time in who knows how long, you feel good. Genuinely. Your mind isn’t on a job or running for your life. Right now, the only thing you care about is the fact that Jason’s heart is still beating.

No. Never.

Instead of a response, you tug at his jacket, the scent of earth and leather lingering once you toss it off the bed. A fear seizes in your chest that this could all be a dream. That you’ll wake back up at Mask’s camp, Jason’s letters hiding away in a bag, and the warmth of his body fleeting with your wakefulness. This moment won’t pass you by without you digging your nails in.

Your lips crash into Jason’s, your hand moving up from his neck to hold onto his jaw.

He kisses like a man starved. Long gone are the timid brushes of lips, and sweaty palms reaching out for your fingertips. His hand stretches out on the back of your skull to hold you against him like he can’t afford to be without.

You feel the growing wetness of your drawers as you grind against him yet again, letting out a breathless sigh against his lips.

Jason’s head falls back, a low groan slipping from his kiss-flushed lips. His lids grow heavy over his eyes, fingers clinging onto your clothes. The sound seems to wipe everything from your mind except for Jason. He’s here. You’re in his lap, kissing him as if your lives depend on it. While you kiss him, there’s no history, and yet there’s all the history in the world. The first time you kissed him. The way his cheeks turned beet red every time you looked at him for a week after.

You kiss furiously as you both shed clothes, until your skin presses up against his. Until you’re sinking down on him, pussy fluttering at the feeling of being filled so deeply. A breathless curse slips through your lips as your head falls against Jason’s chest.

His arms wrap around you, holding you flush against him, another low moan rumbling in his chest. Your breath catches when you feel his heart pounding against your chest. You’re wrapped in Jason Todd’s arms, and everything is right with the world again.

Slowly, you raise your hips just to sink back down again. Jason’s hand catches your head as it tips back, pulling you into his lips again. You rest your hands on his shoulders, using him as leverage as you start to build up your pace, acclimating to the stretch of him.

You ride him, and Jason goes the extra mile to push you down even deeper on his cock each time you lower down, feeling him nudging at something blindingly brilliant. With Jason’s hands back on your waist, no longer holding you to his mouth, his moans fill the room. You could listen to him all night. Jason, who’s been through so much in his life—more than you even know—deserves this, even if he caused you sleepless nights and endless tears.

Your fingers drag through his thick, dark curls, gripping onto the strands at their base. His nails dig into the flesh of your hips as he lets out a whine. The noise drives something in you, burrowing into your brain until all you can think is how badly you need to hear it again. So you tug, and Jason’s lips break from yours to breathe another needy whimper.

With their newfound freedom, your lips move down to Jason’s jaw, nibbling, your breath hot on his skin. You feel warmth growing in the pit of your stomach along with the burning in your thighs, but you can’t even consider stopping now.

He promised you he’d find you. Jason Todd has always been true to his word.

You’re so full of relief and so full of him, you feel tears prickling at your eyes. You’re not sure if it’s more from the pleasure or the fact that you’re together again. As you pull back to look at Jason’s face, you see his eyes watering too, staring up at you like you’re something heavenly.

Both of you crying. You almost laugh, but it gets caught in your throat as Jason’s cock hits something blinding as he holds you down even deeper than ever. Your cry breaks through the room, eyes pinched shut as warmth washes over you. Everything seems to slip out beneath you, and for the first time in a very long time, you feel absolutely weightless.

Jason catches you when you lean back too far, guiding you so you still rock on him through the comedown of your orgasm. Your head clears just in time to catch Jason’s eyes as they roll shut. Even as your legs shake, you go back to work, the meat of your ass slapping against his lap.

He groans out your name, holds your hips down against him, and you feel him spilling into you. Lips parted as he groans, cock twitching against the walls of your pussy.

As he comes down, Jason just holds you against him. You savor his rapidly beating heart, the rising and fall of his chest, the smell of sweat and sex in the air because it’s him. You’re collapsed against your Jason, hand lazily draped against his chest as you still clench around him in the aftershock of your orgasm.

When you feel as if you’ve come to your body more, you look back up at him, wiping away the fallen tears from his cheeks with the pad of your thumbs. He does the same in suit, holding onto your cheek after he does.

“I’m never letting you out of my sight again,” he says. And you believe him.

a/n: huge shoutout to @janybabyy for beta reading as always 💛 if you enjoyed this, please consider giving it a reblog or sharing your thoughts

#jason todd x reader #fic rec

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vryfmi · 16 hours ago

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[major book spoilers]

my favourite concept that i barely see in l&co fandom being talked about is Lucy grieving Skull. whether you see their relationship as platonic or ship skullyle, it's stupid to deny the fact that Lucy grew to care about Skull, her actions in epilogue being the heartbreaking glimpse into the new reality for her and her friends after the events of TEG:

“I don’t know why you insist on having it with us for each meal.” (Holly) “It’s that horrid charcoaled skull Lucy insists on carrying around with her.” (Holly) I’d wrapped it up and taken it home, and kept it with me ever since, just in case.

here i want to say that im not a fan of idea of Skull eventually "coming back", re-materialising. it defeats the moral of Lockwood & Co and the growth that Skull underwent. past is meant to stay the past, living can only learn from it while dead will forever exist there. no one should disturb the dead, the past, it needs to be left at rest and let it hold its memory.

Skull wanted and longed for freedom, at first defined by breaking out of silver-glass prison, but later, very clearly defined by the peace of mind. he was scared of death as much as Bickerstaff was, that's why Skull turned his back on the other side, he chose to stay here, in the world of the living. i always read his decision to save both Lucy and Lockwood as him admitting that he could never be a part of the living world (cough could never compete with what lockwood, alive boy, could give lucy cough), so he pushed the two away as he stayed in the room with Marissa, Penelope and Ezekiel.

to me, the best ending to Skull's story is him passing on his terms, not the explosion destroying his connection with the source, but contemplating what he sees himself doing after Lucy suggested him staying with L&Co. Skull declines her offer. and chooses freedom.

obviously, that's my reading and how i prefer to interpret L&Co's ending. (it's also the reason i can't accept that christmas special as canon, im sorry, i hate happiness).

but that leaves Lucy and her newfound need of keeping skull near her at all times since Fittes HQ explosion, her wishful thinking that he'd come back. and i want to see her go through painful acceptance of losing Skull. losing a someone that she never got to know closer. losing a chance to get to know him as a friend, to admitting to have found a friend in Skull, a kindred spirit. losing someone who understood her and knew her deepest fears because these two deeply traumatised teens were so alike. losing something that she chose to define herself and her worth by. Lucy would have to come to terms with how much of a support system she had in Skull. and now, she'd have to navigate without it.

Lucy makes a remark that i can't stop thinking about.

Whenever I put my fingers on it, I got no psychic charge. The bone was dry and cold.

i could go on a rampage theorising why Lucy can't feel anything despite a) her having a strong Touch b) objects that are not sources are still able to hold strong psychic echoes. but i feel like Stroud was trying to wrap up the story and didn't want to introduce a whole new storyline of Lucy picking up fragments of Skull's past. which is a shame. i would kill for such story to be told. (please hit me up if you do.)

but say she really can't pick up anything, Skull is gone and there's not a psychic trace left of him. where does Lucy find herself then? constantly checking the skull with all her senses, wishing to see a green spark dance around the (former) source, to hear a whispery insult in her ear, to feel just anything with her touch. but it's all gone. there's nothing left. no one left. everyone else is moving on, hurries Lucy to get rid of that horrid old bone, but how can she? how can she bring herself to get rid of the only thing left? the only thing left on earth to remember a nameless boy by? the boy who could've been her friend, but she failed to trust him? failed to say thank you?

with each passing day Lucy’d feel worse because she knows how she looks to her friends, to agents, to the ones saving London from violent visitors every night, putting their lives on the line. and here she sits, wishing a ghost to appear in her attic room when she's the most vulnerable at heart.

bonus points for Lucy picking up a pencil and trying to recreate the boy she saw on the other side on paper while the memory is still fresh, while she still remembers. (but also, if we view books as Lucy's memoirs, it would make Skull's bare-bone description even more sad because that would mean older Lucy forgot the details).

what im trying to incoherently say is, Lucy would grieve. and having read almost all of the books Stroud wrote, i see that he has a very intimate relationship with grief and mourning the loss of someone dear to the point where he explores different sides and intensities of it, how each of his characters goes through it, in every single book of his. (i believe, i have three more books of his to read).

p.s. i don't want to be a hypocrite so here are fics about lucy grieving skull that i love to bits:

- i'm still painting flowers for you by terryh

- echoes by menina123

- it isn’t the same (but it is enough) by bluejay_07

- don't wanna go, but it's time to leave by fourohfourerror

#lockwood and co #lockwood and co spoilers #l&co #lucy carlyle #the skull #skull in the jar #skull in a jar #skullyle #the empty grave #jonathan stroud #analysis #meta writing #blogposting

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five-and-dimes · 12 hours ago

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WIP Word Train Game

Okay so this is a million years late, but I got tagged by three different people for this game and I FINALLY got it all done.

Rules: tagger gives a word, then for each letter of that word you share a sentence/excerpt from your wips that start with that letter.

This is going to be a beast of a post so it’s going under a read more- In total with three words, I had 15 letters. I have 12 WIPs, so I chose to go through and write something for every. Single. One. So under this read more is at least one excerpt from ALL my WIPs. Enjoy!

@seiya-starsniper :HEART

H: (From the fic where Hob keeps calling the Waking “the real world” and hurting Dream’s feelings.)

Hob feels like he is in two very different relationships. When Dream visits him during his waking hours, he is… aloof. Not cold, exactly, not the same level of distance he had in previous centuries, but still holding Hob carefully at arm's length. He does not rebuff Hob’s physical affection, but nor does he reach out on his own. When Hob touches him he simply holds himself very still. In the Dreaming, however, Dream will drape himself over Hob’s body, pulling him close until there is no space between them. He will run his hands through Hob’s hair, starry eyes gazing at him longingly as he showers him with poetic words of his love.

E: (From “Cinnamon Boy”, the college AU where Dream is always cold.)

Even his siblings had pushed him away for his frigidness. He remembers being small and hearing the shouts and shattering of his parents fighting again in the dark of his room. For a while, Death allowed him to crawl into her bed, curling close and trying to convince himself that everything was safe in the arms of his big sister. But finally, one day she grew tired of it, pushing him away when he tried to cling to her. “Dream,” she groaned, “stop it. At least stay on that side,” she shoved him away from her, half asleep and frustrated, “your hands are freezing.” Tucking his hands against his chest, Dream blinked back tears. All his siblings had complained to varying degrees anytime they were forced to hold his hand when they were out, but Death had always been the kindest. He had always known that his elder sister was the peacemaker among all of them, but… he hadn’t realized that putting up with him had been a part of that. He had thought that Death volunteered to hold his hand because she loved him. He realized now that she was simply sparing the others from the burden. Years later, now a young adult, he is still crawling into people’s beds looking for someplace safe. And he is still cold. And he is still pushed away.

A: (From chapter 6 of “When Dreams Become Reality”, the Inception au)

Adrian groaned, “Is my whole dream going to be like this?” he muttered. Hob frowned, and when he looked at Arthur the other man explained, “This is where the inception job happened. Our mark was on this flight, and we had until landing to finish the job.” “Really centering around this first job,” Hob teases, and Adrian rolls his eyes.

R: (From “Dead Hearts”, the human au where Hob was Dream’s childhood bully.)

Reaching out, Lucienne frowned when Dream startled under her touch. It has been some time since he had reacted like that. “What’s wrong?” She asked gently. Dream bit his lip. Lucienne knew… everything. She had been there when he was at his lowest, her and Matthew and Jessamy, protecting him and lifting him up without any judgement or disdain, even when he felt certain he did not deserve their kindness. She knew about the things that had put him in that place. She knew about Hob. And yet, he cannot bring himself to tell her what is happening. Perhaps he fears she will discourage him, give him the same lecture Death always has about letting go of the past and not holding grudges. Perhaps he fears she will look down on him, will finally see how horrid and broken he is to seek even a fraction of revenge on the man who tormented him. Perhaps he fears that she will not take his side, will tell him he is overreacting. Will tell him that he had deserved it. Whatever the reason, he is afraid. And so he smiles, covering Lucienne’s hand with his own, “Nothing,” he tells her, “It is simply. One of those weeks.”

T: (From the next fic in my Immortal Throuple au.)

“Tell me what you want?” Hob whispered against his neck, his thumbs rubbing gentle circles against Dream’s sharp hip bones, “One thing. Just one thing I can give you to make you happy.” Dream shivered in his arms, and Hob can feel his throat move under his lips as he swallowed thickly. “I…” His voice is so soft and uncertain, his fingers curling anxiously against Hob’s shoulders. Hob kisses along his jaw, his cheek, brushes their noses together softly. There is nothing for Dream to be afraid of, and yet Hob can feel the rabbit beat of his heart beneath his hands. “I would like to be facing you,” he finally confesses, stiff and nervous and unable to look Hob in the eye, “I want. To see you.”

@cuubism :GLOW

G: (From an omegaverse au where Hob finds out Dream has been hiding his ruts from him.)

Growling low in his throat, Hob cannot help the swell of protectiveness that rushes through him as he reaches out to cover Dream’s hand. “Hey,” he waits until Dream glances up at him through his eyelashes, “you take care of me during my heats, right? Your ruts are about you. About giving you what you want, what you need.” Dream is shaking his head before he’s even finished speaking, “It is not fair of me to ask you to suffer for days just because-” “Why on Earth would taking care of you make me suffer?” Hob interrupts, appalled, “I love you. You’re not a burden, you’re not asking for anything I don’t want to give.”

L: (Another from the fic where Hob keeps calling the Waking “the real world” and hurting Dream’s feelings.)

“Love,” Hob sighed against his neck, each word mouthed against his skin, “Love, love, my love,” and Dream sighs beneath him, holding Hob close as the black sands cradle them, impossibly soft and smooth. Everything here is so magical, so wondrous, Dream most of all, and Hob wishes he was a poet so he could do it all justice, but he’s not and he never has been, so he settles for kisses and the word “love” repeated over and over. The next day, Dream walks into the New Inn and Hob grins widely, “Hey stranger,” he greets. For a moment, Hob thinks he sees something like despair on Dream’s face at his words. But when he blinks, it is gone. So he must have imagined it.

O: (From a fic for the Dreamling Bingo prompt “creature: feral”.)

“Oh, this is horrendous,” Johanna whispered, her nose crinkling in disgust. Everything about the situation was horrendous, Hob couldn’t argue with that, but Johanna nodded towards the rings of sigils, “The protections here are frighteningly fragile. Everything is painted on, not carved. All it takes is someone getting a little too close and scuffing one of the marks and the whole thing becomes useless.” Looking down at the moat surrounding the various rings, Johanna scoffed, “And that’s not even holy water.” Hob did a double take, “I’m sorry, what?” Johanna shushed him, and they both glanced quickly to ensure that they hadn’t drawn any attention to themselves. Leaning in a bit closer, Hob kept his voice soft and even this time, “How can you even tell?” “I’m good at my job,” she offered cryptically, “Ol’ Burgess got scammed.”

W: (From a fic for the Dreamling Bingo prompt “adoption”.)

“Well, you’re obviously good with them,” Hob smiled easily, feeling more than comfortable to trust this man, “Any particular one you feel drawn to?” At the moment, the kittens were still too young to have noticeable differences in their personalities, but if he had a favorite, he would make note for anyone else who came to see them. There is a long, drawn-out pause, and he assumes Morpheus is simply considering the question with the same quiet gravity as he seems to do with everything. But then, he turns to Hob, face steeled, “I would like all of them.” Hob must have misheard, “You…” he blinks rapidly, “You want all four of them?” He nods, just once, deliberate and firm, “Yes.” There is another pause as Hob waits for… something. An explanation, a story, or a reasoning, anything even remotely resembling a normal conversation that someone might offer after asking to adopt an entire litter of kittens. Dream offers nothing but stony silence, staring at Hob unblinking as he waits for an answer. Hob would be terrified to play poker with this man.

@valeriianz :LENGTH

L: (Another from a fic for the Dreamling Bingo prompt “adoption”.)

Letting Morpheus into the apartment, he gestures vaguely at the living room, “Feel free to set those down wherever there’s space. I know it’s a bit of a mess in here,” he rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously. Morpheus glances around, no hint of judgement on his face, though to be fair, Hob had trouble picking out any emotion from his expressions. Eventually, he walks to a corner of the room, next to a small side table and places the carriers on the ground. “I do not want them to get in your way,” he offered, “And it would be better for the kittens to explore them on their own, at first.”

E: (From “My Soul to Keep”, the sequel to “Now I Lay Me”.)

Each night, the dream is the same. Hob knows it is a dream, but not in the way he does when he is with Dream properly, when he can travel and take everything in in full awareness. Here, he has no control. No way to make it stop. He is crouched on the edge of a cliff, his body hanging half over the open air as he reaches down. He is holding Dream’s hand. He is the only thing keeping Dream from plummeting to the ground. Each night, Dream looks up at him, calm and sorrowful and resigned, white eyes gazing steadily at him even as Hob grunts and struggles and fails to pull Dream up. And each night, Dream opens his mouth and says, “Let go.”

N: (From a fic about touch starved Dream struggling with communication.)

Nervously, Dream twisted his fingers together, shoulders up around his ears as he mumbled, “I… do not wish to bother you.” Hob smiled gently, “Wouldn’t have offered if it was a bother,” he pointed out. Dream bit his lip, and it is both adorable and heartbreaking how much this simple, innocent situation seems to scare him. “If you get uncomfortable we can stop. There’s no rules or time limit or anything. I just think it might help.” Dream swallowed, looking up at Hob and searching his face. Finally, he seems to steel himself, approaching the couch like it might attack him. Slowly, carefully, he sits beside Hob. There is another pause as he takes some deep breaths, but Hob doesn’t rush him, simply hitting play on the movie. The sounds of the opening help fill the space, Hob leaning back against the couch casually, not looking at Dream so as not to make him even more nervous. The opening credits are just ending when Dream finally musters the courage to lay his head in Hob’s lap. His entire body is tense, as though bracing to be scolded or pushed away despite all of Hob’s reassurances, and Hob’s heart breaks.

G: (Another from the next fic in my Immortal Throuple au.)

Groaning, Calliope covered her face with her hands, dropping onto the couch dramatically, “He was so sweet,” she sighed, “I was at the bookstore and ran into him. Literally. Wasn’t looking where I was going and barreled into him, dropped a dozen books all over the floor. And he apologized to me. Helped me pick everything up like a proper gentleman and then asked me about my favorite poet.” Hob laughed, “Oh no, that’s your weak spot.” “I am aware,” she sighed again, “Had to pull him into a supply closet almost immediately.” Laughing again, Hob let his head drop back to face the ceiling, “When I met him he was in the park. Feeding the birds.” “No,” Calliope gasped, sitting up, eyes wide and shining at the mental image, “You are joking.” Hob shook his head, “Nope. This dark little slip of a thing, surrounded by pigeons and sparrows and sprinkling seeds for them. Nearly bit through my cheek trying not to squeal, he was so cute.”

T: (From a fic for the Dreamling Bingo prompt “tied to a bed”.)

There is a long moment where they both simply stare at each other. The other boy snaps out of it first, his face flushing and slapping a hand over his eyes and backing out of the room. “I apologize, please excuse me-” “No no no, wait!” Hob finds his voice, “Please, I need you to untie me!” The stranger froze, but only for a moment. Separating his fingers just slightly, he stumbled back into the room, grabbing a blanket off the floor and tossing it over Hob’s lower half. Hob has to bite back the urge to ask ‘What? Don’t like what you see?’ He just had to be rescued by the most gorgeous person he'd ever seen. The irony was cruel.

H: (From a fic for the Dreamling Bingo prompt “haunted hotel”.)

Hob nodded thoughtfully, not entirely sure what he was meant to do with that information, but curiosity still driving him forward, “Do you know how you died?” The ghost flinched, and Hob backtracked quickly, “Wait, I’m sorry, that was- that was so rude-” “It’s fine,” the ghost interrupted his rambling. Hob still felt bad though. The ghost wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I…” The moment stretches, and Hob forces himself to stay quiet. To let the specter take all the time he needs. Finally, he looks up, his eyes watery. Hob had never considered if ghosts could cry. “I don’t remember.”

I have no idea who has already done this, so feel free to ignore me lol

@beatnikfreakiswriting @softest-punk @gabessquishytum @pellaaearien @tj-dragonblade @kydrogendragon

Your word is: TURN

#the sandman #dreamling #my writing #wip tag #wip game #tag game #sorry this took so long friends #but also thank you I am now a little farther in all my stuff! ^^

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acphengene · 15 hours ago

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Lilac longing

₊ ⁺ pairing: Sunoo x reader

₊ ⁺ genre: soulmate au and over all cuteness overload

₊ ⁺ wordcount: 3.5k (idk what happened)

₊ ⁺ note: i was so close to make this a angst full mess - also be prepared for a lot of brotherly love and support 🤍

₊ ⁺ Jake ₊ ⁺ Jungwon ₊ ⁺ Jay ₊ ⁺ Sunoo ₊ ⁺ Heeseung ₊ ⁺ Niki ₊ ⁺ Sunghoon ₊ ⁺

Sunoo felt the world more fiercely than most, that had been the case his entire life. Even when he was a child.

He loved to paint, loved color and he loved to express himself through his own style and how he chose to decorate his room, through dance and through song.

When his thirteenth birthday came he was nothing short of excited. He woke up as early as possible and when he opened his eyes, everything was a light purple hue.

It almost seemed like he was looking through colored glasses, he had smiled and quickly woken up his sister that had tried to put on a brave face as he rambled about the beauty of the purple colors.

She had helped him make marks in his clothes so he always knew what color they were. He had been all smiles all day, but when the sun had come down, so had his smile.

Sunoo wasn’t stupid, he knew that emotion-marks were some of the hardest to have, not as bad as touch-marks but finding you from your feelings alone would be difficult.

He then saw his world go from a happy yellow to a worried grey, and he knew that you could see him and his emotions as well. That his anxiety worried you and it warmed his heart.

It had to have some sort of effect, cause the grey quickly transformed into a light blue: content

Sunoo became more positive and it was all thanks to you. He had always had a happy outlook on life, but because you were able to sense him, he had turned himself into a glass half full kind of guy.

He did his best to be upbeat and just over all confident, and even though he was faking it in the beginning, it ended up actually rubbing off on him.

The guys on I-land were somewhat jealous of his carefree spirit, and when they had debuted, he had told them why he was the way that he was. They had all been so supportive and kind, and to them it made sense, cause they would’ve done the exact same had they been in his position.

You too were very similar to your soulmate, and had decided that you too wanted to be the happiest version of yourself. Both now but also later in life for when the two of you would be united.

All your life you had loved art, and now that you saw the world in hues you wanted to express that. Show it off with pride to the world

The nature of your paintings was typically inspired by the sky and its different colors. It was one of the things you could still enjoy in all its original glory. A sunset or sundown had a ray of colors that could change in an instant. Just like you and your soulmate's emotions did throughout a day.

It inspired you, and inspiration and the outcomes of it had to be shared. You had been active on TikTok since before the pandemic, you adored the platform and had managed to build yourself a following throughout the years.

In the beginning you had used it for your art and your art alone, but when someone had asked why all your paintings were monochrome. You had answered with a video explaining your mark, and the spark in your eyes when you spoke of him had made you go viral

“Dude have you seen this?” Jake said as he threw his phone to Sunoo.

They were currently in hair and makeup for a photoshoot. He caught the phone and on the screen and there you were.

He couldn’t help but smile, you looked radiant, like the impersonation of a sunray.

“I do see color, it’s just all in one hue, like looking at the world through rose colored glasses” he saw how a gigantic smile broke out on your lips and you lighted up.

He felt a tug on his heartstrings and for the first time in his life he felt longing, longing for his soulmate. He couldn’t help but hope that his other half would be as bright and beautiful like you were.

“They’re excited, everything just went from a slight nervous green to a yellow so bright it’s almost blinding. So I’m guessing we’re gonna have to change canvases now” you said as you switched them out.

“She’s cute” Sunghoon said as he looked over his shoulder, and he hummed in agreement.

Sunoo pulled out his own phone and quickly found your public social medias and followed them all with his private accounts.

He ended up watching some of your videos throughout the day. There was something incredibly comforting about seeing someone with the same mark as him, channel that into something so beautiful as your art.

Personally he did it in song or in dance, but he could nothing but admire anyone who could turn something most would see as a hindering into something so beautiful.

In the next few weeks he had to admit he had become a little obsessed. He typically got the girls to help him translate your lives whenever you logged on. They were all fans as well, some for your art others just for your over all personality so they at least didn’t seem to mind it.

“It’s purple again. I don’t know you guys, either he has the biggest sweet tooth ever, and constantly craves and longs for chocolate… or else I would say he’s right here with us” you had laughed at your own statement and had quickly disregarded it.

But there was something there - because he had felt that longing after his own person right as you had smiled so brightly.

In another live he watched, someone commented on something in the background, and he had to admit he had never really noticed anything but you. It made him feel a bit of shame, mostly because he never thought you’d actually be his, but also because the pull he felt towards you might make his soulmate jealous down the line.

“Oh! Those are my albums” you said before getting up from your chair where you usually painted.

And in your hands you had copies of their albums. So he wasn’t the only one who was a fan of the other.

The chat had quickly exploded with other engenes, wanting to know your thought on the sudden pop up of the guys and their other halves.

“I’m honestly so so happy for them, we all deserve to find our person, and as long as they bring them joy… well it’s the most important thing”

His vision turned a mix of dark blue and green then and there. Sadness and envy. But that was just a coincidence, right?

You sighed and shaked your head; “anyways, I’ve been a pretty big fan of Enhypen - practically since I-land”

His hands hovered over the keyboard on his phone as he tried to get the courage to ask that one little question. But before he knew it, he saw the familiar @ of none other than Jungwon soulmate, ask the question on his mind.

“Who’s your bias?” She sent a wink his way and he returned it with a shy smile. Sunoo had come to love the women almost as much as he loved his brothers.

“Oh my bias is Suno! There’s a brightness about him that remind me so much of myself” He felt the heat rush to his cheeks as the girls all made little ‘uuuuuuuhs’ around the room.

“Stop it” he said quietly. He looked up from his phone and saw the make up artist roll her eyes. “I’m guessing we’ll just have to do a lot of blush today - you’re lucky it’s a trend”

He smiled apologetically, and heard you laugh in the background.

“I honestly have no idea” he heard you say and he tried finding out what question was asked. Right as you continued: “I think he could have something similar to me, or maybe a pain mark. I don’t think he has a tattoo or anything physical on his body, like I know he doesn’t show it off that much, but he also never hides anything or seek comfort in it the same way Jake did” You shrugged.

You were good at analyzing. Hell if you asked him you were good at everything and that made it so hard not to admire you.

“Do you ever think it might actually be her?” Niki asked as the two played a game in his room.

Sunoo sighed. “I don’t know, like sometimes I hope so, but other times I feel so guilty for doing that”

Niki smiled. “You shouldn’t feel guilty about it, whenever I see someone I find attractive I always look down on my pinky, because what if the string actually connected us”

The youngest shrugged. “It’s okay to be hopeful, and just imagine if it’s actually is her, then you’ve known her for a while, not as long as Jay and G but still, it’s more than most of us”

He supposed that was right. It would also be a funny story to tell, how the purples you always had to paint when you were live was because he was watching along.

“I still think it’s unfair I won’t just know, you know? Like with how G just knew when she saw Jay on I-land?” Sunoo said with a small pout.

“Why is that anyways? Never got around to ask you about that” Niki said as he leaned to the left to avoid one of the many obstacles of the game.

“She thinks it’s because she’d kind of already ‘met’ Jay, so he didn’t need to physically be there, she just needed to be reminded of his name and how he looked for the floodgates to open”

Niki laughed. “Yeah, that’s the worst thing about these marks, they don’t follow the same rules. If they did that would be so much easier”

“Do you ever think Sunghoon might just have a touch-mark?” Sunoo asked. He was nosy, he knew that, Sunghoon himself didn’t even intertain the idea.

“I honestly don’t know - and I don’t wanna speculate too much about it. He seems happy either way” Niki said, but Sunoo saw the lack of genuine happiness on his face.

He pushed him slightly with his shoulder. “When did you become so wise?” he chuckled.

“You can thank Jay for that,” Niki said.

Sunoo sat on his bed with his phone in hand as he just stared at it. His thumb was hovering over the send button on the screen. He had debated whether or not this was actually a good idea.

But he just couldn’t help himself. So he pressed it.

A few hours later you were live once again, and you were sitting there staring at the screen. He hoped this would confirm his theory, because if he weren’t right then this was hell of a coincidence.

Two hours after he had sent off his message his vision became such a bright yellow it almost looked white - it was blinding.

He had right then and there decided that that meant you were his. There was no way in hell you weren’t.

The little live notification finally ticked in on his phone, and he had never pressed a link as quickly.

“The most insane thing just happened” You said before you buried your face in your hands. He smiled, well knowing that he was the cause of that.

Your hand hovered over your mouth as he saw the tears well up in your eyes, and he once again fell such longing.

Just tell them - he wrote as a comment from his private account.

He saw that little twitch of a smile on your lips and then you took a large breath.

“Kim Sunoo, my fucking bias, reached out a few hours ago to request a custom painting” you said and you stood up and jumped onto your bed as you screamed into the pillows.

He laughed, glad that he was able to actually see your reaction, even though he was convinced your reaction when you found out had been completely different.

“He wants a sky with every color that I’ve ever seen from my soulmate, every emotion he have ever had - it’s gonna be such an insanely huge piece, and I hope you’ll all follow along when I make it”

You bit your lip: “he’s proud of me” you whispered and the chat went wild.

But you were right, pride was the overwhelming feeling he currently had in his chest.

He saw how you shook your head and once again rested your hands on your lips as you stared into the camera with wondering eyes, as if the puzzle piece finally were starting to reveal the bigger picture.

Don’t spoil it yet - let’s test it out first. Was all he wrote, and he heard the small scream you made, before you turned off the live.

After the live he went straight for Jake’s room, he needed someone to talk to about this feeling inside his chest.

“Come in” he heard from behind the door as he knocked.

“Hey can I pick you brain for a second?” He asked as he sat down on the bed.

“Sure” Jake said before he logged of his game and gave the younger his undevided attention.

“I think I found my soulmate”

Jake froze in whatever movement he was just about to make and stared at him with big eyes.

“What?! How?!” He almost yelled.

“Please be quiet, I’m not completely positive yet”

“You better start talking before I call all of them in here” Jake said with a sinister smirk, Sunoo laughed.

“Do you remember Y/N?” He asked.

“Yeah, she’s the painter right?” Jake asked and Sunoo nodded as he started fidgeting with his ring.

“I’ve noticed whenever she’s live and I’m watching her paint, that the colors she sees are mirrors of my own emotions. When i’m stressed she’s painting orange, when I’m happy she’s painting yellow, and when I …” he sighed. “When I long for my soulmate she’s painting purple”

Sunoo ran his hand through his hair a few times. Trying his best to steady that beating heart of his. He had never shared any of this before. It felt like peeling back a layer and exposing a part of himself he had never shown to anyone.

“So I asked her for a custom piece” Sunoo said.

Jake looked like he was about to scold him, but he raised his hand to finish his confession.

“And I felt this pull” he said and made a tugging motion with his hand, right where his heart were.

The previously worried expression of Jake changed, and a genuine happy smile broke out on his lips.

“Yeah, I’m with you dude. She’s def yours” Jake bit his lip, and it made Sunoo wanna roll his eyes but he reeled it in.

“Are you sure? I mean with Jay and Won…” he didn’t get to finish his sentence before Jake interrupted him.

“It’s different for them, their mark makes it somewhat possible for them to communicate. Jay more than Won, but still the whole chocolate debacle pretty much proved it’s possible” Jake leaned back in the chair.

“For us it’s different” he gestured between them. “Our mark is something we can’t control, so our pull to them is different, and the tug on the heartstrings - yeah that’s one of them… I was more in a trance as soon as I heard her voice, but the tug was definitely there. I even think Won felt something similar if I’m not wrong”

Sunoo smiled a smile wider than Jake had ever seen.

“Thank you Jake” he said and the Aussie saw how the tear welled up in Sunoo’s eyes. He pulled him to his feet and into a hug.

“No problem”

He was nervous. And kept shifting his weight from one leg to another.

You had reached out after the painting was finally done, And he had somehow convinced you to come to Seoul to deliver it personally.

Okay, it hadn’t taken that much convincing, but still it was a long trip to take with a canvas as big as the one you had been using.

So now he stood there in a practice room in the Hybe building, cameras all around to possibly document his meeting with what he was 98% sure was his soulmate.

The cameras had been your idea, you wanted to make the whole experience into a little “come with me to give my bias a painting”-vlog.

He took a deep breath, and then he heard it, the somewhat muffled. “Oh shit, please please be careful. I’ll lose it if it breaks so close to the finish line”

His heart sped up by the sound of the voice.

And then you entered and his heart stopped. You were painted in the green and turquoise colors of anxiety and nervousness. But god you were the most beautiful person he had ever seen. Even more beautiful as you stood here before him.

You smiled a large smile, but your eyes never left the floor, as if you refused to meet his own. The anxiety had quickly been replaced with longing, so why wouldn’t you just look at him?

He bowed as he said his hello, and thanks for meeting him. It was awkward and clumsy, but still it was somehow fitting.

“Do you wanna see it?” You had asked after returning the pleasantries.

He stepped closer to you, as the two of you had turned your bodies towards the canvas. “Yeah, but can you look at me first?” He said with a small smile, desperate.

All he heard was a whimper and his whole body reacted before he could form a single thought. His hand was caressing your cheek and his other arm was around you waist. Sunoo knew he should be embarrassed, but he couldn’t care less.

“Are you okay?” He said silently, desperately.

You nodded, and as you stilled his thumb slowly caressed your cheek. Still, you didn’t lift your eyes to mee his.

“Please look at me” he said, and the yearning in his voice were clear for everyone to hear. But he didn’t care that he was in a room full of people, all he cared about was you.

“I can’t” You finally mustered as a tear slipped from you eye, he brushed it away quickly.

“You can” He said with what he hoped was a reassuring and not mocking chuckle.

A sigh escaped you and he could feel you shake beneath him. “I’m scared…” You finally got the courage to muster.

Instead of pressuring you, he let you be, let you express yourself in your own tempo.

“I’m scared that I’m wrong”

He smiled. “That we’re wrong. And if we are we’ll take it from there” he pulled you a little closer. “But I can tell you that if we’re right, the all you’re feeling right now is slight embarrassment, longing and love”

Your eyes shot open and you were met with the widest smile from him. His hand snaked from your cheek to the back of your neck and he squeezed it teasingly.

“There you are” He said.

And the the world exploded into color.

The two of you gasped as the pink-ish hues were quickly replaced by the actual colors of the world. He laughed as he rested his forehead on yours.

“I knew it” he said, and right after you flung your arms around his neck as you pulled him close to you.

He lifted you from the ground and spun you around, earning him a laugh.

“You’re mine?” You asked with surprise in your voice.

“It seems so” he pulled you into yet another hug and as you seperated it was your turn to reach out for him.

You caressed his cheek, and saw how his eyes almost disappeared when he smiled. “I can’t believe it” the words were so small he almost didn’t pick up on it.

He turned you towards the canvas as a his arm draped around your hips. “Now let’s see what you made me” he kissed the top of your head and your entire body shuddered at the intimate gesture.

You nodded to the two men who had been holding it, and the loosened the bow that held the protective cloth over it.

And as it slipped away Sunoo felt his mouth open slightly in chock. It was a beautiful explosion of colors, colors he could now see at the same time.

He once again pulled you closer to him. “It’s beautiful” and you heard how his voice almost betrayed him and gave after for the sobs that threatened to spill out.

“Just like you” you said.

In this moment neither of you had felt more loved or more seen, and that lilac longing were now substituted for pink and red love.

Taglist: @why4anne @juicygirl4life @azzy02 @bluxjun @why-did-i-just-do-this @elairah @ramyeonzwithspam @floating-moon-dust @skyearby @acourtofmoonlightandstars @garrdenwonie @whateveridontcaresheesh

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lyxchen · 1 day ago

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Okay so I've heard this said a bunch of times and I'm gonna admit I thought like that too for a while but no, Gi-hun did not win the games because he was lucky. A lot of people think that's how he won because he never killed anybody but that's really not the point. Gi-hun won the games because a) he's smart and is able to look at things from a different angle, b) because he is a good and kind person who also believes in others and c) because of the goodness and care get got back from other people.

In the first game he survived because Ali saved him and that wasn't luck, that was Ali being a good person and helping somebody not get killed. Ali could've not caught him, let him die, he didn't even know Gi-hun at all at that point and he put himself in more danger too by having to hold on to a person while standing completely still but he still saved Gi-hun because Ali is a good person.

In the Dalgona game he quite literally Was Not Lucky. He decided to go with the umbrella which is the worst shape to pick and he probably would have died if he hadn't looked at the game in a different way and decided to change his strategy. Gi-hun is smart. He is also optimistic and so he tried something new and found a different way to beat that game.

In the third game he survived because he was smart and kind enough to listen to Il-nam. The other people in their group dismissed him as just an old man speaking but Gi-hun didn't and that way they had a good strategy to beat the other team. The same goes for him listening to Sang-woo's idea of running three steps and then stopping, which ultimately was what saved them. His group also chose him as their leader (who, as Il-nam said, needs to not seem weak or loose hope because then the whole team is doomed). His team trusted in him and his optimism and they were right to do so.

In the marbles game he won because he was once again kind and decided to team up with Il-nam and also because in the end Il-nam decided to "sacrifice himself" for Gi-hun because he showed him kindness before. Yes Il-nam didn't actually die but he also knew that Gi-hun had cheated and still let him continue on to the next game, probably because Gi-hun had been good and kind and caring towards him before, even though he really didn't have to be. Gi-hun also didn't know this but by teaming up with Il-nam he inadvertently ensured that Il-nam had a lot more fun in the games than he would have had, had everybody just ignored to "old, fragile man". Gi-hun was good to Il-nam throughout all the games and it ended up saving him in the marbles game.

In the fifth game it's only some small moments as Gi-hun isn't really involved in the game because he's the last number but still it wasn't just luck. First of all he was kind enough to give the number 1 to the player that asked him for it. Yes, that number was bad but he didn't know that and had he been selfish enough to say no to that other player he wouldn't have survived. Being the last to play in any game can end up being bad for you, still he decided to give up the number he picked because the other player asked him to. Secondly he also survived that game because Sae-byeok was kind enough to remind him of which glass tile to step on after he had forgotten which one it was. It's only small but she didn't have to tell him and still she did. Sae-byeok btw is also good to him because before that he was good to her and protected her (even though he was angry at her at first) and that way he was able to gain her trust.

Lastly he won the Squid Game because Gi-hun was kind to Sang-woo and because Sang-woo deep down was still a good person. There were probably many reasons as to why Sang-woo decided to kill himself in the end but part of it, I'm sure, was also because Gi-hun was a good friend to him. I mean Gi-hun was even willing to give up all the money and go back home with nothing gained if it meant that Sang-woo didn't have to die and would be able to come home with him. Gi-hun deserved that win and that money and in the end Sang-woo knew that. He also knew that Gi-hun would make sure to take care of Sang-woo's mother and that he wouldn't just take all the money for himself because Sang-woo knew that Gi-hun is a good person. (Gi-hun technically also won the Squid Game because he was good at it which is also him being smart)

So in conclusion and I hope y'all haven't stopped reading yet: Gi-hun didn't win the games because he was lucky. He didn't just sit around doing nothing and won anyways. He won because he was smart but even more importantly he won because of the kindness and goodness that exists in humans and that is especially present in him. He won because he had empathy, because people trusted him, because he got back from them what he gave to them first. He never killed anyone and we can clearly see that he Could Never kill anyone in those games but that's not his weakness. Just because he didn't let himself get corrupted and turned into what the games wanted him to turn into doesn't mean he won because of luck. Him not playing by those subtle, hidden rules that are made to force him to be bad, to not care about others and to give up his kindness actually means he was better than the games. He won because he didn't let them turn him into a monster. They tried really hard and they failed and that's how he won!! But also on top of that he also won because he isn't the only good person in this show. He also won because other people helped him, were kind to him and gave a shit about him. Each and every person that helped Gi-hun didn't have to do that. They all could have not helped him, Ali could have not caught him, Sae-byeok could have not told him which one was the correct glass tile, hell, she could have Lied to him about it and the only difference it would have made for the other players would have been them being one more dead person closer to winning all that money. But that's really not how humans are and act which is why all these people helped Gi-hun, helped each other in small or big ways and in the end his own kindness and the kindness that exists in other people is what lead to Gi-hun winning. That's not luck. That humans being good

#people underestimate my man so much and he's literally the main character #gosh this post is so long i hope people even read it fully #man (gn) i was never able to just write out essays on some random topic for school #but when it's about my favorite show i can write some long ass analysis post on the goodness in humans shown in a series about death games #or really anything to do with any show or movie i love #like #it's mostly in the small details which are much more subtle and unnoticed than the bad things some characters do #but also #it's because that isn't normal #somebody like deoksu pushing people to their deaths in the glass bridge game is much more uncommon than somebody like saebyeok reminding you #which tile is the right one to step on #of course we notice that big bad thing happening more because it's not normal it's not what we see every day #but somebody helping you out somebody being kind that somebody maybe even being someone you don't know at all #we see that every day #every day we go out into the world and help each other survive and sometimes it's in big ways but even if it's just small things #we see that every day everywhere in the world because in the end that's what people are like #people aren't mean for no reason or actively plan on how to take you down #(well some people are but those people are the exception)#instead most people will either just let you live your life but very often also help you and care and be good #anyways i feel like i'm getting off topic but yeah #that's how gihun won #because humanity is good and he represents the best of humanity #as in kindness goodness care and sometimes even sacrificing your own comfort to save somebody else #that is who gihun is and that is ultimately what helped him survive #lea's random thoughts #squid game #squid game analysis #seong gi hun #seong gihun #cho sang woo

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not0interested1 · 12 hours ago

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Okay. For the record, I am anti JFW and I think there is evidence of the emotional abuse much better seen in other videos and interactions, this falls in the “Am I trying to see something that isn’t there” category for me personally. I think this was at least partially scripted. I believe JA knew he was walking into her doing this. I would venture to say he didn’t know which shirt she was going to use, but I think he was onboard with the idea to some degree. Are there some odd aspects? Perhaps; like how low the camera is. She’s on the floor and the angle is not that of a 6’1” man. It’s much more likely the angle of a child. Does that mean it’s not his voice…who knows. He could have been walking behind his child who was filming. He could be holding the phone low. Do I think that was the shirt he wanted picked out? Again, none of us really know. My hunch says it was not. Just look how quickly the clip of Arrow asking if he was okay with her ruining his shirt was cut off. That to me is more telling than the interaction in the closet.

So people are saying, listen to the comments and his whine at the end. On first listen, I heard what other people are saying they heard. A domineering woman disregarding her husband. Then, I listened again this morning to see if I felt the same. I think he may be trying to appear as if he is more upset than he really was, like the whine was added for humor. But I will discuss this in the end point.

For argument’s sake, let’s say it’s just two people creating a fake dramatic scene. It’s not my humor, so I can’t judge it. But maybe it’s theirs and who am I to say otherwise? Maybe they are into the whole dry, sardonic, depreciating humor. To each his own. It certainly makes them both less appealing in my mind. Someone else mentioned this in another reblog, it would have been more effective and more in line with the “generous” spirit intended to have them both in the video picking out shirts together and talking about the cause.

So, my final thought in this rant is about the possibility of hidden (or sometimes not so hidden) abuse. A lot of people are calling Jensen “spineless” for playing a long or not standing up for himself. Hence the filming (if it was him) and the added whine for humor. Even if he WAS onboard with the donation of a shirt to a degree, playing along, saying it’s fine in his comment to the post, he may not be fine at all. Dissociating, playing along to avoid conflict (especially publicly) and adding humor are TRADEMARK victim traits. As someone who is currently in a marriage like this, and struggling to get out, I experience this firsthand. From the outside, people think everything is fine, that this is just their dynamic because both parties have seemed onboard with it. I can give an example from my personal life. My husband likes to spend money like it’s flowing water. It causes me high anxiety as I grew up well under the poverty line. Though we are financially stable, I hate all the items, clothing, and shoes that make there way into our home because they are wasteful and have replaced much of the items we initially chose as a couple. Initially, I voiced concern and asked for communication prior to buying. I was met with anger and gaslighting, so much so that I believed maybe I was being overly sensitive. So, I stopped voicing my opinion or concerns and played along, letting things slide and watching hopelessly as I became a guest in my own home. Not one room has been decorated by us as a couple with the exception of a smattering of furniture. A drawer in my dresser and a level of my side of the closet now hold his clothes and shoes. I have become so avoidant, people think I let it happen. To the degree that people make comments like, “Oh, you are so patient. He’s so lucky you don’t mind, I would be so mad.” On the outside, I look like I am onboard. I make jokes about it. I shrug and play along. But I just don’t want to fight or get put down or yelled at.

I say this, because it is POSSIBLE Jensen is in this arena as well. I don’t really know, we aren’t friends, but it’s a hot take after other more concrete evidence of past interactions between them. If that’s the case, he’s not spineless, he’s conflict avoidant. He’s learned what to argue about and what to go along with. If this occurred in my home, here’s how it would have gone down (all speculation of course):

DA tells him what she’s doing and that she’s donating a t-shirt. Tells him she needs one of his shirts. He agrees, maybe thinking it would be a T like hers. She says film me picking it out. He says, fine and does. Perhaps surprised she’s in his closet going through his favorite shirts rather than a T. Too late now! So he has to switch gears and play along. Skip to her distressing the shirt in next clip and Arrow confirming whether or not he’s okay with it. Why would she ask? Because in between these clips, I would bet money a conversation was had about using a different shirt. The response to such an appeal would be akin to a guilt trip. “Jensen! This is for a good cause! Oh my god you’re being so selfish. It should be a sacrifice for all they lost. Jesus!” How can he argue with that, even though he was always willing to participate? He can’t. He’ll feel like a dick. And we ALL know he’s very concerned with how people see him.

That’s my two-cents.

Hey! Love your blog! I appreciate your insight and opinions on all things Elta and Jensen. I’ve seen the cracks for years.

I was prompted to come to your page and ask your opinion about the most recent (like just posted) video of Elta going through Jensen’s closet to find a shirt.

He tells her repeatedly “no” and then he when he says “that’s my favorite” she dismisses him and says “perfect”. The next shot is her distressing his shirt.

I don’t know about you, but that just pissed me off. Why not let the grown man pick the shirt out. He’s not a toddler! Of course her shirt was a plain white shirt. 🙄

Anyway, thanks for reading and keep up the amazing writing.

I'm suddenly wishing I could title this post with:

The Bitch Is Back!

Oh, not you! I mean her!

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Y'know... the bitch wife with zero respect for her husband and his belongings. The one who decided to make it clear she didn't respect him and destroy his favorite shirt because.... reasons.

Oh, right. The "shirt auction". The one that won't go to the people in need and will in fact line Misha Collins' pockets (and some of Danneel's) instead?

We know why she picked Jensen's shirt. Not just to torment him, destroy a favorite shirt. It's because she knows none of hers will get even remotely the same mileage as his would. He had a record auction bid for one of his shirts a few years ago. Like... $4,500 or close to it.

Hers probably wouldn't crack $500. And she knows it.

Then she tokenizes the kids again. (This absolutely negates the arguments by her stans that she doesn't.)

To top it off--she completely ignores that it's his favorite. Yes, he probably could go buy another one. That doesn't matter. It's a shirt from his time on Supernatural. A good reminder. She's destroying it, disrespecting him again, and showing him he can't have any joy. She'd just destroy it all.

And I've seen folks go "Oh, hear that moan at the end of the video!" That wasn't a moan. That was a scoff, a "Uh!"--the kind where someone goes "OMG, you're seriously doing this despite me saying 'no'?" That's not a moan of pleasure. That's a groan of pain. Of distress.

Wanna know what's worse? She throws in a plain white shirt, probably not even hers. Probably just bought off the rack at a store so she could pass it as hers.

Even more distressing? Why doesn't Arrow recognize her father's shirt? If he was around as often as his stans (and hers) claim, surely he would've worn it at least once in rotation around Arrow.

Lastly, notice that picture Arrow is drawing. Notice the number of people on it? There's four.

Two males, two females, supposedly. There's five in the Ackles household. Jensen, JJ, Arrow, Zeppelin... and Danneel. Where's the missing girl?

Oh. I know.

It's missing Danneel. Because Arrow doesn't include her in her precious memories with her visitations with her father. Because you know that's all this trip was--him paying a visit to the kids. And likely forcing him to participate in this bullshit.

Yes. I know that implies he has no spine. Pay attention to what I've been arguing, folks. He's in a rock and a hard place. And yes, he's timid. Saying 'no' to Danneel might make things worse.

It's just tragic how his and her stans are missing a key aspect here: respect. There's none of it in this at all. Danneel disrespects him about his shirt, his privacy, his feelings.

If the relationship had faded into what Jessica Alba recently described about her marriage to Cash, okay, that happens in a lot of marriages. But what shouldn't fade is respect.

There's none of it. Zero.

I was just talking to a friend of mine whose husband, while not abusive like Danneel (though maybe a touch emotionally abusive), has shown absolutely zero respect for my friend. As in, when he cut his hand at work--nothing too serious, though yes, it needed stitches--he played it up so hard that on top of work and taking classes for a promotion, she had to do everything. And did he thank her? Appreciate her? No. When she had a fever, he didn't even care to cook her a meal.

In a conversation we just had, because this Danneel topic brought it up, she asked me privately:

"Is this life telling me to leave?"

I asked her if she wanted me to answer honestly or lie. She asked for honesty. So I did, as gently as I could:

"Yes. He doesn’t respect you. He makes it obvious. If he cared—doesn’t have to be “love”—he wouldn’t have thrown a tantrum over gummy bears. He would’ve treated you better. You—and Jensen and myself and everyone else—deserve better."

Whether there was love or not, there should always be respect.

To top it off, there's now a discussion as to whether that was really Jensen. Because 1, they were real careful not to show their reflection in the mirrors; 2, the voice could be easily faked with AI (thanks a lot, AI).

I'm on the fence myself about it.

And hey, while we're on the topic.... why the fuck are there nails on Arrow's fingers? She's far too young to be wearing fake nails. I mean, seriously.

It could be damaging to the nail beds. It can cause injury. Their bodies are still growing and developing. We shouldn't be dyeing their hairs (I'm looking at how frequently JJ's hair color changed over the years) nor putting on fake nails.

Dear Danneel, you're not being a "cool mom". But I shouldn't be surprised. Bad mom, bad wife, bad activist.

Bad person.

Edit: As are the stans. The fuck, y'all.

#jensen's first wife #the cool gang #anti danneel #jensen supportive

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