#but that's complicated; and takes time and care and thought and effort and connecting to marginalized people

[angorwhosebabyisthis]

analyzing hermes, emet-selch, the ancients and ascians, how they're written, and the fandom's reaction to them be like hm. emet-selch's role in this fuckery is compounded by the fact that his backstory as a genocide survivor is incongruous with his ruling a huge genocidal colonialist world power in the present da [ANTISEMITISM BLAST]

[moondirti]

big fan of the headcanon that simon riley is hard to get.

if we're being realistic, he's probably gotten very good at ignoring any inclination he might have towards a person in the years since his families' murder. it's easier to function as a soldier, as ghost, when he doesn't have to carry the burden of concern for someone so vulnerable. whether it's worrying about their safety while he's on deployment and can't afford to, or otherwise repressing his darker tendencies in an effort not to break them; the extra effort just isn't worth it to him. he won't seek you out, he won't take care of you, he won't reassure and coddle and communicate.

and he's not blind, nor is he passionless. he can appreciate a pretty face when one happens to pass by, but that's pretty much the extent of it. he's gotten used to the scorch of the lonely flame that flickers inside of him. if anything, he thinks putting it out and tending to the burns left in its wake would be a more traumatic ordeal than just letting it consume him.

so for him to accept love, it'd have to sneak up on him.

it happens with johnny first. he's the natural candidate, of course. his stubborn subordinate, clever with a fixated loyalty and quick wit – who better than him to get under ghost's skin?

granted, he isn't as guarded around him as he would've been with a civilian. not as cold upon introduction because he doesn't need to be. soap's a soldier, and this is work, and he's confident enough in the sergeant's resilience that it doesn't hinder his routine. he doesn't have to make accommodations, bend backwards or wake up in a cold sweat concerned about the man's wellbeing; not at first, anyway. and such are the floodgates that allow him to embrace johnny's company.

jokes crackled over comms. sitting next to each other on the airlifter. claps on the back after a successful operation. trust in every decision he chooses to take, regardless of whether or not he agrees. he thinks about johnny's eyes, johnny's smile, johnny's fierce little pout and the scar on his chin – but everything in moderation. the perfectly healthy amount. passing appreciation of his best mate's features and nothing more. it's the only meaningful connection he's had in years, and so what if he tugs his cock to the thought of it? people have cum to less.

until the bastard gets himself shot in the liver on solo reconnaissance in cyprus, and almost dies on medevac.

because when ghost gets that call from price – soap's hurt. it's looking grim. – he's wracked with a terror so acute he thinks his heart has given up on him. it's about the worst way to find out that he considers johnny as more than a friend. this sheer desperation, longing, regret. he ponders over it in the plane, tries to scrub the dread from his being. tries to pick apart what went wrong, what makes the sergeant so special.

by the time he reaches the hospital, he's already accepted defeat. all it takes is one look at johnny in his hospital bed – features peaceful, bandages wrapped around his bare chest, mohawk and facial hair grown out – to understand that this isn't going away anytime soon. he'll just have to make his peace with it. readjust to accommodate the protective flare already sparking in his chest.

it's a hassle, but manageable. despite his injury, johnny's still a competent man. they already know how to function in bouts of high stress. they're good– great friends. all this is really is an opportunity for simon to finally dig his cock within an ass he's been eyeing for months – or at least, that's the rationale he uses to come to terms.

and then you arrive. and things get a whole lot more complicated.

johnny's bird, apparently – gaz whispers to him outside of the inpatient room, watching through the window as you fret over the comatose man's pillows – didn' know he had one. m'surprised. you'd think a loudmouth like him would let the world know. she's cute too. really, ghost, did you have any idea?

he can't find it in him to respond, opting instead to march back into the room. you're fussing too much, causing a scene, no doubt disturbing the air with the nervous energy radiating off you in waves.

"he isn' supposed to be elevated like tha'," simon scolds, inflating a bit when you straighten up, eyes blowing wide with distress.

"oh... i just thought- he gets all hot when he lays on his back like this. i wanted him to be comfortable."

he knows that he's being cruel. you've done absolutely nothing to deserve the harsh glare he shoots your way, nor should you be expected to handle it. your eyes are red-rimmed, puffy like you've been crying on the way over. no doubt unused to crises like this one. he should be a help, not another source of stress.

besides. johnny's your boyfriend, not his. he has no reason to be so territorial. he'd only just discovered his feelings eight hours ago.

but–

"are you a doctor?"

"n-no."

"then it's best you keep your opinion to yourself."

he just can't help himself.

over the next week, ghost treats you with nothing more than cold disregard. he side-eyes you when you cry, wakes you up with rough pokes to your shoulder once visiting hours close, and takes every chance to one-up you when it comes down to who knows johnny better. you've got a leg up in the domestic department, but simon knows that nothing can surpass the borderline psychic bond they've built, and he makes sure to emphasise it whenever he can. and fuck, does it annoy him that you take it with grace every time, nodding receptively as though his input is meant to be more than just a searing critique of your shortcomings.

his behaviour doesn't go unnoticed, either. gaz is infinitely perplexed to see that the usually controlled lieutenant is so quick to lose his temper around you, despite your earnest efforts to not be a nuisance, and all price offers are long, disapproving looks that have him itch uncomfortably in his seat.

on the other hand, you must believe that he's just like that – foul mouthed, disparaging, mean – because you don't take it to heart. you remain pleasant, gentle, if not a little bit emotional. never once do you raise your voice at him, or fight back when he extends a particularly hurtful comment. on the occasion that his attitude grows to be too much for you, all you do is slip on a pair of noise-cancelling headphones and spread out your textbooks to spend the evening studying on the other side of the room. not keen on making amends, or discovering the source of simon's malcontent, but not affected by it either. you're peaceful. conflict averse. a good girl.

then, you come back one day with a tupperware of cookies.

"i made them myself last night. couldn't sleep, so..." you shrug, holding it out towards him. he assesses them, assesses you, roving over your chapped lips and hollow under-eyes. when did you get to look so defeated?

"no." he looks away, back to the unconscious man in front of him. in his periphery, your shoulders deflate, and he doesn't know what compels him to add the quiet "thanks."

"you've been here every hour of every day. i don't think i've seen you eat. um–" you dodge his gaze when it shoots to you. you've never tried to hold a conversation before now, have always accepted his gruff responses as an indication to leave him alone. he wonders why you can't catch the hint now. "just- let me know if you change your mind. they're shortbread."

and that's the end of it. at least until an hour later:

you're sitting on your armchair, directly across the bed from him, staring blankly at johnny when you speak up. "lieutenant?"

ghost doesn't remember introducing himself to you. he doesn't respond, but clenches his jaw to let you know he's listening.

"he's been comatose for a while." you warble. meaningless chatter. he sees it for what it is: talking so you don't cry. seeking reassurance in someone who knows how these things go.

"hm."

"is this how it usually-"

"sometimes."

"oh."

"he'll be alright." simon adds. more for himself than for you, but your lip wobbles like it's exactly what you needed to hear.

a few moments later, you speak up again.

"he holds you in such high regard, y'know."

he didn't. his heart aches as he follows the rise and fall of johnny's chest, finds solace in it, calming himself before he rips the hair from his skull. he can't speak, can't muster a rude dismissal, or any hatred for you. not anymore. this hospital has sucked the soul from him, as it seems to have done with you.

"he'll be happy to know you've stuck to his side." you smile, stirring from your seat and slinging your bag over your shoulder. "i have to go, got an exam tomorrow. i'll leave the cookies here in case you crave one."

you're halfway out when simon replies. "good luck."

and he's on his third cookie when johnny finally wakes. by then, he's already made up his mind. it's revelation he comes to much faster than the first.

if he can't have just johnny, he'll take you both.

[satoruhour]

LESSON NO. 1

a/n: bassist!geto teaching you how to play the guitar. loosely based off this but not really connected. as requested by @alcospray 💟 i dont play bass so i just watched a whole bunch of videos for just one song - any bass players wanna correct me feel free to do so ;"). only if u look like geto tho /j. they havent say the three words to each other yet, read it with that in mind :3

wc: 2.1k

“any update from your fan?” gojo nudges him playfully as they wait for the principle of the university to introduce their band for the freshmen orientation, which, weirdly, something that the four of them never thought would happen. they sang about topics that wouldn’t normally get talked about or were shunned — politics, capitalism, authoritarianism — and yet being introduced by the principle of their place of education was quite ironic.

the bassist doesn’t hear gojo at all, not even when his best friend tries to tease him by calling you his fan. there were too many things in geto’s mind way even before this whole performance: his finals, a rival band that sought out to create false rumours about them, you.

always, you, the unexpected distracting thing that infiltrates his mind without fail. from the first night you trodded over to his dorms, opening up to him and letting him take care of you, to the many dates after. he’s taken you to cafés, watched you study way too many times, or simply let you sit through one of his song formation days.

a conscious effort to keep his distance and everything is just you, you, you, and geto is terrified. he’s never liked the kind of love with strings attached, with those mushy, complicated feelings, but no one-night stand, no quick fuck has ever made him feel the way you do.

but lately, he’s seen less of you, unwillingly accepting the principle’s offer to perform for the freshmen because he knew you were one of the group leaders ushering in the new students. at least he could try to search for you in the crowds, even getting a cheeky little text about where your group was meant to sit a week ago. he could be granted at least that when you both have been working so hard for final exams that you two could hardly see each other.

although, throughout their whole set, he sees everyone but you. he loses the bass line often, looks lost on the stage, needs to be cued in, something that never happens to the geto suguru. he’s always been a natural, and yet when it comes to you, you ruin him in the best way possible.

“hey— hey! man, what was that?” gojo slaps him on the back but it doesn’t even register in geto’s head, not really bothered by how he messed up the performance if it wasn’t for gojo’s vocals and shoko adding in her own improvisations for her parts. nanami can only shrug as he comes around to geto’s front.

“she wasn’t there, i looked, too,” nanami mumbled, tapping his drumsticks on his shoulder, “but you’re the most passionate guy i know who loves his guitars and bass lines.”

gojo has to chime in, “he’s the only bass guitarist you know, nanamiii!” and shoko pulls him back with a smack to the back of his head.

the dark-haired guy only clicks his tongue, “sorry ’bout him.”

nanami waves his drumsticks before pointing them at his face, “i know you’re obsessed with her, but i don’t wanna be a drummer if i can’t work with my bassist. sort this out before our next gig. she’s a sweet girl . . just, not when it’s at the expense of the band.”

geto only sighs in relief, landing a hand on his drummer’s shoulder.

“thank you, nanami.�� the two exchange smiles before he gives a salute to his other two friends (“do you think he finally loves someone enough for him to be distracted on stage?” shoko says, and gojo gasps dramatically), heading out from the wings and down the stairs at the front of the stage where people look confused at the recent performer looking high and low for where your group was meant to be seated.

he sees not you, but rather your group leader mates who he’s at least seen pictures of, so he has no qualms about heading over to ask about your whereabouts — “the last thing she told our head group leader was that she was down with a nasty flu . . terrible fever and all. our main group leader went to her dorms to check on her and she’s unfit for doing orientations activities. we just sent her loads of soup packets and pei pa koa’s.”

geto laughs at the last part, knowing your need for sweet things. when it’s combined with a soothing coating for your throat, it’s pretty much the only thing you take when you’re sick. with a quick thanks, geto races for the campus bus straight to your dorm, the bass carried on his back rattling with his capo, chord sheets and mute nosily.

at least your annoying roommate’s gone home before school starts so it’s only you when geto knocks on the door. his knuckles rap against the wood, heart breaking when he hears your hoarse voice answer from the other side. soon, he can hear your feet moving towards the door, but it takes a while from how your body is, knocking over some things in the process.

“c-coming!” you groan out, wrapped in layers of clothing and feeling so hot you feel like you were in hell. but you aren’t expecting the sight when you open the door: your boyfriend panting, the guitar case behind him only telling you he’s come straight from the freshmen gig, the expression on his face.

“s-su!” you exclaim, both excitedly and a little worried because you didn’t want to get him sick, something you regret immediately when you go to clutch your throat.

“oh, baby,” geto brushes the hoodie off your head and brushes away the mess of your hair, “you look so pale, i— i would’ve come sooner if i knew—!”

“that’s why i didn’t tell you,” you pout, pushing away his hand gently and stepping back. it hurts to speak, but you feel like you at least need to explain your absence to him, “i was afraid you’d ditch the performance. also— don’t want you to get sick.”

suguru’s expression softens, “don’t worry about me, doll. come,” he takes one more step towards you and you feel so safe with him you don’t take a step away, “let me take care of you.”

the next hours are full of geto, a revered bassist in an upcoming band who dons long hair, piercings and has a menacing dragon down his arm alongside some boots, taking care of you. he runs back and forth between the pantry to make sure you have enough hot water, boiling hot soup to drink, enough layers to keep you warm and even calling gojo to get some tylenol from the supermarket.

“take a breather, sugu, i’m not gonna die,” you laugh slightly with a rasp to your voice, squeezing his hand as you rest against his shoulder. he’s made sure you at least have something in your stomach and enough hot water to power a hot spring, worry showing through his heartbeat when the hand he holds is still so warm.

“you’re heating up loads, baby,” geto frowns, turning his head to plant a kiss on the top of your head. he rolls his eyes when he hears it’s because you’re here. “do you want me to put cool towels on your head?”

you giggle again and cough, sniffling the mucus back up your nose, “no, it’s okay — you’d have to go to the pantry again to get water and i just want . . you here.”

suguru only hums, something akin to a melody that you don’t quite know but you’re happy to listen to his gruff voice anyway. the way he vibrates as he hums sends a calming feeling right to your body, and how he looks and feels so different from the very first time you were alone together.

he seemed so cool, passing the blunt to you and blowing his smoke into your mouth, kissing you like you’re just another girl in his roster; but right now, you were far from it.

now, not only is he still cool, but he’s also the most caring person you know and is something so far from his appearance and band: this is just one in many instances of how much he takes care of you. from the same fingers that strum upon the stainless steel, they travel miles over your body, your face like the first songs he learned on the guitar, weaving a melody and language so intricate only the two of you speak it.

silently, you feel him push you forward while he slots his legs on the other side of your body, letting you naturally rest with your back to his chest. “wanna learn?”

“i am in the most terrible state, suguru,” you whisper, reaching over to take a tissue. there, you blow your nose and clear out your nostrils until the next round, groaning softly at the grossness of the tissue.

“ohh . . but wasn’t someone saying that she isn’t dying?”

your jaw drops, “i can’t believe you would use that against me.”

the corners of your boyfriend’s lips turn up in a sly smile, “just quoting my girl. but—”

this time, he’s the one reaching over much further than you, hand clutching the neck of the guitar through the bag. gently, he settles it on both your laps, laughing when a small oof leaves your lips at just how heavy his bass was.

“i’ll do all the playing, you just mirror my movements.” with one more kiss to your temple, geto reaches around easily to play the starting notes of psycho killer. while there’s a clear layering of the lead, vocals and drums in his head, you’re just left confused by the repetitive bass.

but soon, you’re able to catch the notes that repeat over eight counts, hypnotised by the other’s longer fingers as they transition into the chorus line. it’s a little more complicated, now, descending into chords that you frankly don’t have any grasp on. one look at your face is enough to send him into soft laughter.

“okay, okay, let’s just focus on the verse.” if you weren’t feeling lightheaded from the fever before, you are now when geto curls his hands around yours, placing your finger easily on the fifth fret of the first string.

“so here . . we have the first bar of A notes, easy? then . .” he demonstrates the first four notes, plucking the strings for you before moving it down to the third fret to play the G note. a small smile spreads across his face when you slowly get the hang of it: six notes of A, two eighth notes, and then a G on the same string. geto slowly releases his left, letting you play on the melody while he helps you to pluck.

“that’s it,” still natural, it doesn’t faze geto at all to nuzzle his head into your neck from behind and to start kissing up your shoulder to your jaw, fingers still expertly plucking the string. the both of you repeat the bass line until he’s grabbing your awkward right hand and quietly, he angles your fingers so you’re following him, “you’re a fast learner.”

“i have a great teacher,” you mumble, and suguru doesn’t tell you that you just willingly kissed his jaw out of habit — because he knows you’d freak out at the possibility of getting him sick. it’s sweet, that in your delirious state you’re still acting out of admiration at the back of your mind. like the bass, loving geto feels as natural as the repetitiveness of psycho killer.

the bass notes reverberates through your bodies, just almost acting like a trance that makes your fingers falter upon the steel strings. he goes on to slowly play the chorus, stretching his fingers into weird shapes. he plays various chords, voice cracking just a bit when he tries to sing the vocals and you laugh softly.

“i just don’t have satoru’s higher register.” geto jokes, knowing you’re close to falling asleep from the way you hum and give one worded answers, so he easily takes over from you, changing it to an easy song. you let the low notes of the bass serenade you to sleep as you curl more into your boyfriend, but not before you hear a glimpse of geto’s harmonised singing to yellow.

it’s not often you hear him sing, being a bassist and all, but there is a nice edge to his voice — not quite made for vocals but you know he can do it if he tries. and even if you don’t voice it out, geto thinks the same thing. it’s similar to this stupid love thing that’s got him all tangled up and distracted, too, and he realises so many new things about himself through you.

you give love a fresh breath of life, nothing like the things suguru sings about in his unfinished demos and notebooks — multitude of things that involved you and his fucked-up perceptions and the foolishness of his parents telling him he’d find the same. you are all he thinks about when he sees the black cough syrup and he can’t stop craving the feel of your body against his.

the moment your breathing turns even and you sag against his embrace is when the strings stops and his breathing escalates. in geto suguru’s arms is the personification of something he never thought he would let into his life, yet you carry the choirs of love and acceptance so effortlessly like heath’s bass guitar solos and atsushi sakurai’s spotless vocals.

suguru’s head simply falls onto your unknowing shoulder, a small fuck that leaves his lips and a smile that he can’t contain is all he needs to know.

@mysugu @suget @slttygeto @na-t0 💟

[thesilmarillionblog]

𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭: 𝟔

Click here to read the first part.

Summary: You and Soldier Boy want to create a family and move on from everything, even the Vought, but you also know that he has to face Homelander one last time to keep his vow to Butcher. However, nothing turns out as you had hoped.

Pairing: Soldier Boy / Reader

Warnings: Heavy angst, hurt, language, memory loss, reader is hurt and confused, angst, Soldier Boy is harsh

Word Count: 5394

A/N: English is not my first language.

This is inspired by the song 'Remembrance' by Memoria Futuri.༊

You could feel Soldier Boy's arms holding you tightly, and you made an effort to free yourself, only to find that the harder you fought, the tighter he held you. Eventually, you let out a painful moan as you felt his powerful, frightening grip around your lower abdomen. 

“Hey,” you said in a restless tone, swiftly rubbing your palm on your stomach to wake him up. “You're hurting me.”

He gave off a sound like a groan and said something that was incomprehensible. You firmly said, “Fuck, you're going to kill me here if you don't loosen your hands right now,” while he forced your body to press against his. “I mean it.” 

Regaining wakefulness and eventually opening his eyes, Soldier Boy released his grip a bit on you. “What happened?” 

You rubbed your arms and belly with agony and moans while he stretched his muscles and rubbed his sleepy eyes in between grumblings. 

“You held me far too firmly. That hurt,” you replied, turning to face him while you raised your shirt to see the damage. There, it was somewhat reddish. You looked like you'd been slapped by him there. You give him a sour look and draw attention to the skin marks on your body. “Look what you have done.” 

When he finally woke up, his thick fingers gently stroked your tummy, and he whispered a curse. 

He apologized, “Fuck, sorry,” but he prevented you from getting up. 

You said in a sarcastic voice, “Do you usually wake me up like this?” out of curiosity. You worried if he had ever injured you before without knowing anything about the background of your relationship. 

“On occasion,” he said with a mischievous grin. “But of course, I don't do it on purpose.”

“I have to be insane to be with a supe,” you muttered in disbelief. You questioned your irrationality in taking such a risk with your life. It was well known that supes sometimes killed their partners behind closed doors or in different circumstances. 

With a playfully “Hey,” he embraced you, and you felt the warmth of his chest behind your back. It was heartwarming, and he felt safe. “You enjoyed every moment of it. All I can say is that you were really enthusiastic and energetic, though you can't recall. Yet.”

You remarked, half-joking, half-hurt. “I'm sure just because I don't remember a single thing, you're making things up.” He was making statements as though he was talking about someone else entirely, like an ex-lover. You were taken aback by how comfortable you felt with him in just one day, as if you were deeply connected. If he was being honest with you, your skin and body had memories of their own to justify him.

He inquired, “What happened?” after noticing your abrupt expression change. 

You said, “Nothing,” not wanting to put in too much effort because your headache persisted. It was all truly complicated. 

“Are you still unable to remember anything? Concerning us or another thing?” When Soldier Boy noticed you had become lost in thoughts, he queried with suspicion. 

“No.”

His facial expressions have altered, and he is now staring at you irritated. He didn't inquire about it, even though it seemed like you didn't want to remember anything at all. He was aware of your efforts, and he knew it was just too much for you. Yet he believed you also had to understand him. It wasn't easy for him either in that situation. He was missing you. 

“All right,” he sighed. “Get ready so we can go to the doctor. I'll make sure to it that you are well taken care of, okay?”

You nodded to him and quickly showered while he got dressed. You also had to confront Butcher and others, but you'll discuss this matter with another doctor first. Since Soldier Boy had sensitive nerves and you didn't believe that he wouldn't intentionally or unintentionally harm you, However, you didn't want to get into a fight with him anyway. You wondered what he was like and the nature of the relationship you had with him some months prior. It was all so surreal that it was difficult to believe. You questioned if you really loved him or whether he really loved you. 

You looked at Soldier Boy as he adjusted his belt and put on his gloves, right after you had put on whatever you had found in the home. His messy hair gave him a savage and very attractive appearance. He smiled at you genuinely once he saw you were staring at him.

It wasn't bothersome, but he said in an arrogant manner, “Enjoying the view?”

“I'm just waiting for you to suit up already. You're taking too long,” you said playfully as you kept watching him.

“Oh, yeah? It's an old attitude.” When he was finally done, he blinked at you. “Guess we're both ready to go, huh?”

“Well, yes,” you said, taking one final glance around the room as though you would be staying here with him forever, even though it didn't seem that way. 

When you got in the car, you two were silent. Soldier Boy kept checking on you, which should have helped you feel a little better, but you were restless and uncomfortable. You called Butcher over and over, but he never answered, which made you feel awful and as though you were being ignored.

His actions proved Soldier Boy was the one to tell you the whole truth. You would have preferred it if Butcher had once been honest with you, but perhaps this is best for you. You believed that you were getting close or something. He was like a big brother to you after all. You were obviously wrong.

“He's not returning your calls, right?” With his gaze fixed on the road, Soldier Boy posed a sharp question. 

“No.” 

You spoke in an attempt to appear calm, but it was clear that you were lost and heartbroken. You had no option but to believe what Soldier Boy told you about him, about you, about everything. Butcher had abandoned you. 

Saying, “I told you he's a coward and a liar. He won't tell you anything, and he will continue to tell you lies even if you manage to track him down. He is a fucking liar; that much is true.” Soldier Boy gave you a serious look, as if he wanted you to believe whatever he said. Word by word. 

You murmured, “We can talk about such things later,” not wanting to discuss the difficult situation any more. 

Soldier Boy angrily replied, “Don't you tell me you still trust him.” He was so ready for another fight. 

“I won't say that I think highly of him, nor do I still trust him fully. He clearly told me bullshit about a few topics. However, you have to understand that I am unable to totally trust you as well.” You tried not to seem hostile as you added, “I don't even know you,” but you could feel the tension in the air rising as he inhaled deeply. 

He questioned, frustrated. “What's wrong with you?” Soldier Boy hated Butcher more than anything. “God knows how long you've been asleep or he's telling you lies with others, but you still say you can't trust me as well.” 

Soldier Boy struggled to control his tone, not wanting to frighten you away or anything, but it was difficult for him to be informed you didn't trust him. As though he were just another man, like Butcher and the rest. 

“Why are you even upset with me? Since you are aware of the complete truth and my pals have lied to me, it is simple to look from your side. I have no idea what's happening at all.”

He glanced at you briefly, but he continued driving without changing his face. You felt that he was treating you a little worse than he had been the night before, but you weren't sure why. It shouldn't have hurt because you didn't know him, yet it still crushed your heart in a strange way.

As if he would act differently if only you were different too.

He said emphatically, “I'm not angry. It's simply annoying that you're telling me you don't believe me but continuing to hold out hope for Butcher and demand an explanation.”

“Why is it wrong to wait for an explanation? I'm curious what he's going to say, and it's okay to be cautious of strangers, but he needs to tell me the truth, or at the very least acknowledge that he lied to my face teaming up with the rest of the others, because I now know his lies. Even though I genuinely appreciate your concern, you should be understanding of my situation rather than being selfish.”

You would have liked to know the truth about what transpired between them so you could know why Soldier Boy was so outraged with him. You were certain he would kill Butcher instantly, without hesitation.

“Fuck that! Am I now being self-centered?” He gave you an angry expression as he inquired in a harsh tone, “Is it okay to give a fucking hand job to a stranger?”

He was behaving as though it was all your fault. Despite your best efforts to remain composed, his attitude scared you a little. You questioned whether this was how he treated you always.

Your face heated while you attempted to push the memories of yesterday from your thoughts. Your fingertips grazed the hard surface of the seat while you searched for an answer to his bold question. 

“It was an instinct for survival lets say. You're a..strong supe, and I couldn't fight you after all. Why are you even talking about this right now?” With a mumble, you hoped that soon enough the two of you would forget your private moment. 

“Oh god,” he whispered. He didn't seem at all pleased with your response. “Are you fucking telling me you'd do the same if it was another supe on top of you?” 

As the images filled his mind, you being with another Supe, he made an angry noise, trying to empty his mind. He'd kill whomever tried to lay a hand on you. You both were lucky he recognised your voice yesterday.

You said, “I don't know.” You had no idea what would happen if it turned out to be someone else, not him, just another Supe. As you saw him get irate and clench his fingers on the steer, you said, “But no one would kiss me right away like you did, right?” That sounded as genuine as you had hoped it would. It was sincere. You had no idea what possessed you to give him that quick kiss back without even thinking twice. Perhaps it was meant to be.

He only murmured, “I'd kill them.” Then he grasped your hand in his, realizing you were gone silent. “Hey, I'm just...” To figure out just what to say, he took a deep breath. “I understand that it's terrifying for you, and it's just too much. Yet even if it doesn't seem rational, I need your faith. I need you to trust me in this.”

You said, “I don't get it,” unsure of what step to take. Your eyes wandered helplessly to your phone. That might be a little bit simpler if Butcher spoke to you, but Soldier Boy detested Butcher so much that he believed Butcher would immediately start telling you more lies the moment he opened his lips. 

“I know, baby. I know,” he said, attempting to block out the thoughts of Butcher's crap. For everything he did, he vowed to murder Butcher. 

In a quiet voice, you asked, “Are you always like this?” wanting to know more about his personality. About you in the past. 

He looked perplexed and scowled. “Like what?” 

“Just like this,” you urged. “Angry and on edge.”

His mouth dropped open in protest at what you'd just stated. It was true that he appeared a little tense and maybe even a little too aggressive. But you had nothing to do with any of the negative feelings he was going through. “No, of course not.”

He looked at you with real regret, and you sighed. He was giving you the truth, and you could tell by the way he looked at you. But these days, it was difficult to trust anyone. However, it was also difficult to ignore the need to rely on someone. 

“I think you would behave differently.” Finally, you mumbled to him what was really worrying you: “If only I remembered everything.” 

You were right, and Soldier Boy didn't say anything for a while—possibly even unaware of his attitude toward you. You sensed that every second passing was making you two more and more apart, yet you were so close to reconnecting. 

You said, “Am I right?” expecting him to say no. 

He managed to reply in a stern voice, “You're not,” and went on, “Like I've told you before, it's not about you. It's true that I feel a little...tense, but I most often do, even with you. You simply can't recall anything about us. That has to be the cause of your feelings.”

“You mean that I'm constantly welcoming of you in this way? Am I really that obedient and docile?” you questioned, startled. It was hard to imagine you were a scaredy little cat around him, putting up with his rage all day and night. 

“You're simply misinterpreting us at this moment, sweetheart,” he stated, grinning heartily at you. “You know, it would be so much easier if you could only remember just one memory of us, so that it would be a lot easier for you to grasp our dynamic.”

“I still think I must be a dumb being with a supe.”

“Anways,” grumbled Soldier Boy. Right now, things seemed a little bleak for you. It's true that you seemed like a new person. That's when he understood how much he really did miss you and needed you back. It hurt so much to miss you and your memories. He would make sure to it that the doctors do the best they could to get you back to him. He didn't even want to imagine if nothing worked. 

He remained silent for a considerable time after that, and you were becoming more apart. The abrupt coldness in his attitude toward you made you feel restless and uncomfortable. It was true that you wanted to learn more about Soldier Boy and find out about your former relationship with him, but you also didn't want to trust him until you spoke with Butcher and the others. Either you had genuinely loved him, or you had to have an appropriate explanation for being with him.

None of them mattered; perhaps your connection with him wasn't as awful as you thought it would be, or perhaps you were too blind to recognize his true cruelty and mercilessness while you were with him. All you had to do, if it was possible, was know the truth and get to know him again. You questioned if you truly had loved him in the past and whether you could love him again. It wasn't like you were completely against the idea or something. 

You gaped in distaste looking at the massive Vought Tower as Soldier Boy brought the car to a stop. That terrifying structure was the source of rage that one could never forget. It was filled with demons in masks who thought of themselves as heroes. 

“Hey, you okay?” You inhaled deeply as Soldier Boy asked you in a concerned tone. 

“Yes," you mumbled. “I just don't like this place.”

“Come on. We won't be spending the most of our time in this place. We are coming to visit a doctor—a legitimate, real one. Just like you deserve.” As soon as he heard your heartbeat quickening and worry taking hold of you, he wanted to comfort and encourage you. 

“Okay,” you said, feeling a little relieved as he smiled at you genuinely. 

When you entered the elevator, you whispered, “Is Homelander here?” 

He listened to his surroundings for a while and said, “Yes.”

You shivered as a wave of worry and nervousness washed over you when you thought of Homelander. Homelander was something you could never forget, even if you bashed your head until your skull broke. You didn't want to be in the same room as him because he was the most vile and vicious person that has ever lived. 

Soldier Boy stroked your arms and placed his gloved hand behind your neck when he saw your uneasy demeanor and the change in your breathing. “Hey. Nobody could or would risk hurting you. Particularly him, especially him.” 

You knew Homelander, but you wanted to put your faith in Soldier Boy and feel at peace. No one could ever stop Homelander when he intended to hurt someone, and you had doubts about Soldier Boy's full strength. Their power dynamics were foreign to you. 

You couldn't even move to nod at him as you wanted to. You just had a sour expression on your face, as if you were willing to embrace anything he said. 

You placed your hands on his to express your gratitude and your faith, whispering, “I want to believe you.” 

Soldier Boy planted a kiss on your forehead and said, “Then believe me,” with confidence. It was such a lovely moment that a thrill and a hint of crave surged through your veins. In a moment, a tiny piece of hope filled your heart; maybe he could fall in love with this version of you. After all, you were you. If you were genuinely loved, memories shouldn't matter all that much as long as the same emotions persisted in his heart.

When he saw that you were staring at him intensely and with a faint smile on your lips, he seemed confused. Knowing that you were in a relationship yet feeling both too close and too far away was insane. At that little, genuine moment you two had, he should have had the same thought. That would be a good memory too between you and him.

At last, Soldier Boy murmured, “Okay, let's go,” releasing his hold on the skin while still holding your hand.

As soon as you and Soldier Boy entered the large white room, you took a deep breath to calm yourself. To cheer you up, he offered your hand a small, determined squeeze.

When Soldier Boy called upon the doctor across the room, who was absorbed in his thoughts and studying the paperwork, he smiled warmly at you. 

The doctor shook hands with Soldier Boy, saying, “It's good to see you see you in person, Soldier Boy, and I guess you are..”

You shook hands and said your name to him. You looked like a toddler whose parents had forcibly taken her to the hospital. That wasn't all that different, really. 

Before he could ask any questions, Soldier Boy interrupted, “Yeah, she's the one we talked about on the phone.” He must have spoken with him when you were taking a shower or changing your clothes. You thought it would be simply an ordinary check, but you didn't trust the doctor because he worked for Vought after all. 

You were led into the doctor's room and seated, your fingertips twitching uncomfortably on the chair. Even though Soldier Boy was gently playing with your hair to console you, you were still feeling worried and uncertain.

He waited for you to respond before asking, “So, is it true that you're not remembering a single thing that happened in the twelve months?” 

“Yes,” you answered right away.

“Alright,” he said without disputing the preciseness of the time. “So, what specific events do you recall having happened to you? What did you last recall before the incident?”

When Soldier Boy waited on foot, you could feel his concentrated gaze on your shoulder and the trail of his fingers on your back, but you tried not to look at him.

The doctor responded, “You can take your time,” as if he was trying to calm you down.

You forced your memory again, even though you were suffering from a headache, but the pictures remained the same. You just didn't want to.

You began, “I was...” but you refrained from giving any specifics about Translucent. “I was with Hughie, a friend of mine.”

“How did you spend the time with him? Are you able to think about the specifics?” he repeated quietly. You wanted him not to ask you anything at all. 

What are you meant to say? That you were torturing Translucent in an attempt to get him to talk. Telling a Vought doctor about this would be problematic. 

You lied and said, “I don't...remember exactly.” You hoped that Soldier Boy wouldn't pressure you to reveal everything. “We were just spending time, and then I guess hit my head somewhere.”

Your lie made Soldier Boy tense, but he didn't break off to avoid creating a scene or placing you in an awkward position. You wouldn't dare to... Fuck, he didn't even want to picture you with that dumb son of a bitch. Fuck. 

The doctor finally remarked, “I see. How long has it been since you lost your memories?”

“Three months, I guess,” you said, hoping that what Butcher had told you about the period you had been asleep was accurate at least. You have slept for literally months, but you weren't sure if you should provide him with more information. Since it didn't seem essential, you chose to merely give the information the doctor needed. The whole story did not need to be told. 

“It's been months, and you still don't remember a single thing?”

“No," you politely said. "Not at all.”

“Is there a way to bring her memories back?” Soldier Boy took the seat in front of you and asked immediately. 

The doctor said, “I...cannot promise such a thing I'm afraid,” and then he looked at you sadly. You kind of feel at ease, though you're not sure why. 

“What do you mean you can't promise? What the fuck? You work at Vought and are a supe doctor. You're not being paid for doing anything at all.”

The doctor tried to explain, saying, “It's hard to bring back memories like that; naturally. However, her circumstances won't even present a difficulty. She is quite fortunate.”

“What do you mean?” Soldier Boy questioned suspiciously, feeling a little more at ease now, hoping that the doctor would provide some helpful guidance. 

“A supe woman called Cate came to see me a few hours ago regarding her injuries. As I treated to her arm, she briefly informed me about her powers. Life is strange. Cate told me she could play with memories, that she could even bring them back, among other things.”

“Are you absofuckinglutely sure?” When the doctor continued to give Soldier Boy more facts about her, his eyes became wide with excitement and in disbelief.

You should have been thrilled about it, but instead you felt quite uncomfortable and worried. You didn't want someone to forcefully retrieve your forgotten memories from your brain through mind games. You knew this wasn't what you wanted right now, even though it was a weak excuse. You would never allow a stranger to play with your memories in that way.

Your heart broke seeing Soldier Boy's delighted face and hearing him ask the doctor many questions. Even though he was now just another stranger to you, you could still sense and know he was important. You would have injected a virus into his body yesterday with Butcher's order before you even met him. Still, a lot has happened since yesterday.

In one day, you had created a lot of memories with Soldier Boy, and they were now special to you two; they were no longer about your former self. You were the real one, this time. You felt lost when you saw him becoming enthusiastic about it as if he was finally ready to meet his true love, even though you knew it was foolish to think this way. Wouldn't he love you like this? 

“As far as I've learned, Homelander signed her missions, and unfortunately I don't know her contact number,” said the doctor. “But I think Homelander would tell you where she is.”

"All right, that's good," said Soldier Boy. You felt horrible to hear how relieved he sounded. You were terrified to say a single word because you knew he would get frustrated if you informed him that you didn't want your memories to come back to you in this state.

You and Soldier Boy left the doctor's office after expressing your gratitude.

You exclaimed, “I'm starving,” as soon as you entered the elevator, preventing him from mentioning Cate and talking about bringing your memories. “Can we eat something?”

He said, “Sure,” and you felt your heart melt with his smile.

Soldier Boy played with the small necklace around your throat and gave you a serious expression. “I sensed that you were lying in there, by the way, when he asked you what you were doing with that stupid face, Hughie, before you lost your memories,” he said. 

You spoke fast so he wouldn't start making up scenarios about Hughie and you. “Butcher had kidnapped a member of the Seven, and he was torturing him in his own ways to get him to talk about how to kill a supe,” you said. It was irresponsible and dumb. “I couldn't tell it to him, and it didn't seem important.”

He said, “Hmm,” happy that he wasn't going to hear something unpleasant. You were always his; he knew it. It was difficult to picture you assisting Butcher in his abduction of a supe. That jerk forced you to take several foolish and dangerous risks. 

You could see that the doctor's advice about bringing your memories to light was the reason he was feeling more at ease, even as his fingers continued to gently trace around your neck.

“I keep wondering what happened to the ring I gave you,” he said. “Maybe we can also find out this.”

Your heart melted with thrill and sorrow at the thought of the ring. 

You looked at your empty finger and whispered gently, “I don't know what happened to it. There was no ring on my finger when I woke up.” 

Soldier Boy's whisper was rough, “They must have taken it,” and his posture stiffened. 

You softly asked, “Did I like it?” to ease the tension. “The ring that you bought for me.”

He smiled weakly at you and said with a hint of pride, “Yeah, very much. With the help of that Supe the doctor talked about, Cate, we can also learn where your ring is, huh?”

The tiny smile that was on your lips vanished as he spoke about reliving your memories. You said, “We could just buy another one. Maybe it's just lost, and I'd like a different one.”

He firmly answered, “No,” not really interested in what you were proposing. “It was a nice one. You have no idea how hard I searched for that ring. We can definitely find it. It must have been taken by someone.”

He grasped your hand when the elevator stopped, and you were at a loss for words when it came to telling him how you felt. He was clearly expressing how much he didn't want this you. You followed him heartbroken.

As soon as you walked inside his room, you were astounded by how large and cozy the furnishings were. You were unaware that Vought Tower offered rooms like that. Tired, you stared out the window at the entire city as Soldier Boy ordered a meal for both of you. Up top, the view was incredible.

When your desperate eyes scanned the crowds, you turned to Soldier Boy. “After we have our meal, I'll find that Cate and everything will be solved,” he stated, putting his phone back into his pocket.

You leaned in closer to him and said, “I think we need to talk about this.”

While he waited for you to continue, he frowned. That was going to be difficult.

Nervous of his attitude, you managed to mumble in a low voice, “I just don't want someone to play with my memories and bring them back so suddenly.”

He was puzzled by your idea and said, “What the hell do you mean now?”

You asked in a panicked manner, “Why are you insisting so much? Everything is happening so quickly that I'm unable to keep up with it. I don't want my thoughts and memories to be played with.”

Soldier Boy approached you cautiously and confidently stroked your cheeks while maintaining a harsh expression.

“You can't even recall a single detail about me, you, or us since you fucking lost the last year of your life. Everything's going to be alright when your memories return. What makes you so afraid of?” he asked quietly, although it was obvious that he was growing frustrated.

Just saying, “I don't want it now,” You wanted to spend time with him in this way, to live the memories you couldn't remember, to create new memories with him, and to discover whether or not the thing between you was real. You weren't sure why your thoughts had changed so suddenly. 

“Even if you don't want it now, I'll find Cate, and you'll get your memories back. End of discussion. You will thank me for it once you remember us again, sweetie,” he continued, deliberately implying that he would make you do it even against your choice. 

You mumbled, “You can't force me.” 

“Well, I think I can,” he said confidently. “Don't you see, I miss you.” 

You were heartbroken by the way he sounded, as if he were trying to reach out to you, but you were lost in what he was saying, and it was as if he was talking entirely about someone else. 

You asked unexpectedly in a whisper, “Can't you love me like this?” You had to know what he was thinking about you, even if you had no idea where it had come from. “Since yesterday, we created some nice memories. Aren't they good enough for now?”

When Soldier Boy saw you like this, like you were lost, he grimaced. 

“You simply feel afraid to learn the entire truth, and you're just confused.” He continued in a cold voice, “You are still you,” but this time you didn't trust him. 

“No,” you protested, unable to control your tearing eyes. “Everything will change, even me. You make statements as though you were talking about someone else. You didn't respond to my question, If I remain this way, wouldn't you still be able to love me even if I lost all memory of the past?”

With a hopeful expression on your face, you waited for him to agree that things hadn't  come back to you so rapidly. He was right to say that you were afraid; while you anxiously awaited his response, your heart raced with both hope and sorrow. After being abandoned by Butcher and the others, you were also rejected by him. You really did feel afraid. 

He frowned and said, “Do you even remember my name?” ignoring the question you asked. 

You opened your mouth to answer him, shocked as you were, but you had absolutely no idea what to say. You forced your mind to recall even though you had a burning headache. You must have previously addressed him by name a thousand times, so you were only waiting for a memory to emerge. 

As he observed your struggles, Soldier Boy scowled and repeated in a harsh tone, “Do you?”

At last, you said, “No,” embarrassed that you couldn't recall his name. You were unaware that, up until now, you had never addressed him by name. Not even once. 

You felt your heart shattered into a million pieces as he sent you a sharp and disappointed look. You knew then that you were strangers with a past after all. He hadn't fallen in love with you. It was your memories that made everything special.

“Then my answer is no.”

Next Chapter

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A/N: Comments are very much appreciated. They keep me going. ^.^

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@roseamie01

[evilminji]

You know what? HAVE we tried Yoda's "younglings fix everything" tactic on Skywalker?

New SI-OC Time!

Smol, adorable, has a bug out bag and enough credits stashed for their life on the run! Already learned how to tie the hover prams together in like .001 seconds flat and (SUPER gently) toss the babies into um. Knows where the baby food is. Conveniently, has helped ORGANIZE said baby food. (Some of which was "organized" straight into bug out bags)

The whole works.

But like.....?

Better part of a cure? Is prevention you know? And the Tragedy Of Anikin Skywalker? Is that he WAS a GOOD MAN.

And she's standing there, with her Fully Grown ADULT SOUL, looking at this KID who thinks he's a man... this TEENAGER who's been GROOMED by a Sith Lord, a fully grown adult he TRUSTED in a position of power and authority over him, the FORMER SLAVE, and she just...?

How can she look upon his soul? So brightly burning with light and emotion and a sense of JUSTICE? A young man who CARES so much he can barely function some days. Who's heart's ambition is to Free The Slaves so NO ONE will ever again suffer as he and his mother did? Who looks at his partner like she's the most wonderful person to ever draw breathe?

So bright. So GOOD. Struggling and trying and fighting a battle he doesn't even know he's IN, against a Sith Lord he thinks is his FRIEND?

How can she look upon that young man... and just? Abandon him. Decide he's too much effort to save. To even TRY. That his fate is a forgone conclusion and he is destined to Fall. Such things are a CHOICE. And Anikin Skywalker? Has had precious few of those in his life. Between Duty and his youth, lives on the line and Master's that owned.

This is HIS Soul. HIS future. And Palpatine is trying to chip away at his ability to think clearly. Trying to pressure and rush rush RUSH! So he chooses in fear and desperation, like the bad sell it is. Knowing he'll feel he's "too far gone" to back out. Letting him spiral. Ever tightening that noose.

But? Like... the man DOES want to be a dad. Have a family. The thought HAS to be there.

"I should practice taking care of Force Sensitive younglings..."

You know... in case he in Padme... I mean, he's not SUGGESTING anything! But, I mean? If she WANTED too? And he knows they're young and all... and it would complicate everything... but? But!

They'd be KIDS. His kids. HER kids. THEIR KIDS! A... a family. He can barely imagine it.

A problem though? Is how LOUD he is. He can't help it. No more then one can help their hair or eye color. Reminders to "remember his shields" are a great deal like hearing "your breathing is upsetting people. Kindly stop." Like? What do you want him to DO, exactly? Cease existing?

Yes, he COULD be shielding better. If you met him at WHERE HE IS. Not continued to try and make him conform to a mold he'll forever be too big to fit. He's not an IDIOT. He is AWARE that babies are hypersensitive to the Force, since they are so new and rely off it for basicly everything. He KNOWS he's overwhelming to even ADULTS sometimes.

Obi-Wan can handle him because HIS shields are basicly High Council levels. He could TEACH classes to knights and masters. Everyone else? They feel a bit... projected at. It's RUDE™. Very "getting all up in my personal space and shouting". you know?

Babies can't handle that!

That UPSETS babies! Younglings too, they just don't have the words for it.

Knight Skywalker is just "So Much". It's upsetting and alienating. Force Sensitives are basicly MADE to connect to each other. Are THE most social of their various personality types, races, and various cultures. It's just?? A "ducks trying to raise a swan" scenario.

Anikin has subtly different needs. Is gonna grow to be bigger then them. What works for THEM may very well be wildly unnatural for HIM and that's OKAY. Neither of them is wrong! The PROBLEM here? Is rigidity. Refusal to meet a youngling where they ARE, out of fear of change. Clinging to tradition rather then ADMIT to ignorance... thus? Never treating that ignorance with the healing hands of Knowledge, as is the Jedi WAY.

The Sith have been at work for a long, long time.

But OC does not have to play part in their games. Bow to their rules. To hell with tradition and fear. Paths upon paths that MAY, conceivably, lead to SOMEWHERE. Did you not SAY, Master Yoda? That the Future is always in motion? Attachments may lead to darkness, but they also lead to light. They LEAD to everything. Because they are part of being ALIVE.

OBSESSION and CONTROL are the Darkside. But mere Emotions are the flowing of tides.

She prescribes hugs.

An adorable youngling, herself of course, following Skywalker around the Temple like a duckling and flopping against him every chance she gets. Asking bright eyed youngling questions of her Super Cool Esteemed Knight Elder that he'll have to look up. Or look up WITH her. Sometimes indulgent listen to HER ramble about.

Or? If he's sand blasting the soul of everyone around him? Welp, time to brace for it! Once more into the breach! She is small and squishy. Warm, huggable, and filled with light. Can hum and hug his head. Smell like Baby. Itty bitty lil light and heart beat and body. Not a threat. Cares about him. Fellow Jedi. Safe safe safe.... calm...

Does she feel a bit... rubbed raw? Soul wise, afterwards? Fuck yeah. Ouch, her everything stings. But that's not his fault. AND! He's getting better.

QUICKLY.

Cause there's nothing QUITE like an adorable wittle baby child, whom you BLASTED IN THE SOUL FACE with abrasive anger-sand hard enough to probably scour them to the BONES, wincing but smiling up at you and asking if you feel better now... to make you just a LIL bit "fuck asking Master's, I'm gonna tear the Archives apart until I can solve this on my own" hysterical. Ha ha....

Oh Force he MAIMED A CHILD! (Soul bruised, at BEST. And not intentionally.) (THATS NOT BETTEEEEEER!!! *hysterics in Skywalker*) Padme! Put me down like THE ANIMAL I'VE BECOME! AaaaaaAAAAAAA-!!! (He says, showing up at a senators apartment, holding a youngling she's never met like a teddybear. The MAN SHE MARRIED, everybody! He's so lucky she loves him. Ffs Ani.)

But like?? Shielding? Leads to SO MUCH better emotional regulation and stability? Plus an immediately increase difficulty scale for Certain Sith Lord's.

Especially! If the technique Anikin has to use? Is OLD AS FUCK. Like... Pre-Rebulic old. Considered a wildly overly complex and exhausting way to Shield for most people who just don't have the midi-chlorians count to NEED it.

A case of "the side effect of THIS medicine can actually address THAT crippling symptom!? Huh." So Anikin? Starts? INTENTIONALLY Projecting. Yeah... wild right? After so long trying NOT too! He starts learning to? PROJECT a "bubble" into the Force around him.

So that he'll only sense himself. So he can FOCUS on projecting and politely not project AT people. Kinda like elevator music where normally there is just nature noises. Very clearly artificially made? But not? "Every thought you have shouted at me" intrusive.

Kinda pleasant actually! Especially here on Coruscant. Where everything is so discordant and murky. Suddenly? There's this walking Air Filter/Lovely Ambiant Noise Machine walking around and???

Anikin has NEVER been so popular?? O:

Padme. Padme! The Crechelings FELL ASLEEP ON ME! Just?? Clambered RIGHT on up, dumped themselves in my lap, and fell asleep! Everyone wants to meditate near me! There were ARGUMENTS! Obi-Wan! OBI-WAN feel asleep on me the other day! Just?? Slumped over against my shoulder and started to CUDDLE!!! (/ T^T)/ hold me Padme! Everything is Beautiful and nothing hurts! I should have done this YEARS ago!

Also! Did you know it's Totally Cool for us to get married? We just have to get JEDI married! Wanna help me lie to the council? (Totally, you even got to ask?) O/ \O *highfive!*

Palpatine would HATE it. Fucking LOATH it. But the thing is? You can plan for actors on the stage, plan approximately for players to come, but? NO ONE can plan for a SI-OC. And even then? Any plan accounting for what children will do? Usually discounts how intelligent truely really are.

The Sith Did Not PLAN for "smart baby knows what you are up too and decides to stop you".

Because WHO WOULD PLAN FOR THAT?

Well....? Maybe don't be SUCH a dick? That the Actual Force Itself decides to fuck with your plans by introducing Chaotic elements? Ever thought of THAT??? Anyway... THAT is how the Big MEAN Sith Lord was unveiled targeting an INNOCENT and TOTALLY not provoking him, itty bitty child! Oh no! Anikin! Save meeeee! The scary bad man wants to HURT ME!

A CHILD! Who you gonna pick? Me, the crying lil girl you basicly adopted with your wife, or the man you THOUGHT was you friend... before he ATTACKED A CHILD! With a RED LIGHTSABER! And lightning! Someone's throwing around mention of SLAVE CHIPS and he's suggestinghe can "save you wife"!!!

Real CONVENIENT. Since Anikin's wife is both completely FINE and under the care of Jedi healers, yet he's been having MYSTERIOUS DREAMS about her DYING HORRIBLY. Dreams that Don't Feel Right. Like they DONT come from his head! So? How do YOU know about those dreams, HUH? SHEEV??

*Chosen One INTENSIFIES*

[bakugoushotwife]

kinktober day thirteen: somnophilia kink

>>> y'all i worked breeding into the plot again officer take me away!! i just love soft and domestic sho, and it also totally feels like something he'd love!!

>>> starring: shouto todoroki x curvy!fem!reader >>> cw: fingering, oral (fem receiving) somno, breeding, reader hates working lmfao, creampie obviously, mating press. >>> wc: 2.6k >>> event masterlist

 shouto loves relaxing. he was sure this was something everyone enjoyed, until he met you. you seemed to stay occupied at all times, delving into hobby after hobby to keep yourself busy. being professional heroes was draining enough, he thought, so why were you indulging in running clubs and extra gym sessions? why did you spend more time learning new recipes and anxiously cleaning the house these days than lounging in bed with him watching tv like you used to? of course, his first assumption is that he has done something to push you away or upset you, as he’s prone to doing. he’s naturally aloof and a bit distant, all things he tries to push past to connect to you, the only person who makes him feel warmth were his coldness usually lies. you know how he is, how he can come off a bit frigid and almost mean without thinking about it, or how he struggles to read your body language and cues—always missing the hints you throw him. you’re used to it by now, far more accommodating than a grown man like him deserves, so he figures this time he needs to get to the bottom of this and make it up to you and prove he can be in tune with your emotions too. 

you had grown restless, but it wasn’t all your husband’s fault. you felt so out of place these days, feeling awkward in your own role in life. you enjoy being a hero some days, other days you can hardly motivate yourself to get out of bed. work had become monotonous and meaningless, the streets of japan were safer than they had been in years past, so most of your days were spent patrolling and training if they weren’t consumed in paper work. you felt stagnant, and things were only complicated further by your conflicting emotions. all your friends from school were retired to spend time with their families or in the process of retiring to go home and take care of their parents or kids—and then there was you. a family would be…perfect, but it was a touchy subject with shouto and you didn’t want to press the matter just because you needed a change in life. so yes, you started tinkering around with hobbies to try and get your mind off of things, knowing you had accepted the possibility of not having children when you agreed to be his misses todoroki. he hadn’t taken the possibility completely off  the table, but you knew he wanted to broach the subject whenever he was ready. so you started using the home gym a little more, picking up books your girlfriends recommended, even working on your cooking skills all in an effort to feel something other than bored.

you didn’t associate your issues with shouto, still acting as normal as possible in other regards other than your drifting away. you really didn’t think he’d notice given the lack of emotional fluency he had, hoping if you could replace the void growing within you that everything would go back to normal and you could be as happy as you were five or ten years ago. but he had noticed, of course. he missed his wife alongside him, but it wasn’t his fault that he had trauma associated with family and was unsure of himself as a father. it certainly wasn’t his fault that when you got married right out of high school you hadn’t cared—knowing that you love him either way. this is still true, of course, but back then you hadn’t imagined  you’d feel this way, this tired of the life you worked so hard for. so ready for the next chapter, especially as ochako welcomes baby midoriya number two and you’re left in charge of the elder brother at the hospital. 

the little boy was only about four or so, absolutely adorable and the image of his father. he was a giggly kid, clinging to his “auntie” with excitement to meet his baby brother or sister. ochako called as soon as she was sure she was in labor, and you dropped everything to go support your closest friend, not that you needed an excuse to leave work early anyway. shouto was still working, of course, as a top five hero he was often kept busy. but that left you to wrangle the toddler on your own. it was way easier than you expected, even with the energetic little boy bouncing all over the waiting room waiting for his dad to come get him. he still conversed with you and ate his lunch like a good boy—though that’s because his parents were so good at raising him, but what would you expect from them? 

all the day proved to you was that you weren’t just making up solutions to your problems, having a family really is what you want. but still, you love your husband more than this want, so you’ll double down on your hobbies until you find something that sticks. 

he reads your texts over and over, waiting on you to get back from the hospital. he had set up a date, truly romantic when he tries to be, and when bakugou answers his calls. following his advice, he had your favorite dinner made and the dining room table was intimately set. ochako had her second baby, and that threw a minor wrench in his plans even lthough he was overjoyed for them, and for you for being their dependable friend in that moment. he sits at the table, all the food keeping warm in the oven as the wax of the candles starts to wane. he had flowers, wine, all the things he knew to try and connect with you and get to the center of your sleepless nights. 

when you walk in, he stands, smiling sheepishly. you smile back, though it doesn’t reach the entirety of your eyes. then you notice he’s guarding the table, and you creep closer. “hey, honey.” 

“welcome home, sweetheart.” he nods, stepping aside to show you the lovely dinner scene just for you. your heart melts a little at his effort, knowing it was always a great show of his love to do something like this, much preferring cuddle sessions and shared showers over grand displays of affection. 

“aw, shou.” you pout, giving him a big hug, “this is so pretty, to what do i owe the pleasure?” you giggle like everything is normal. he hums in thought, slender arms holding your waist as he stews over what to say. 

“you’ve been distant as of late.” he says without a trace of malice or disappointment. his words catch you by surprise–he did notice. he lets you go, pulling out your chair and tilting his head for you to sit. “why?” 

you clear your throat and sit, any charade you wanted to drum up crumbling in your brain. you can’t lie to him, but how could you approach this without feeling like you’re betraying his trust and wishes. you sigh. “i… i’ve just been trying to find new hobbies.” 

“you’re hardly sleeping, and i feel like i never see you anymore.” he frowns, making his way to the oven to retrieve the dinner the chef made. “what is it really, sweetheart? do you feel as if you cannot talk to me? is it something i’ve done?”  

you chew the inside of your lip as he assembles food on your plate. “i don’t enjoy hero life anymore. i’m ready for the next chapter, to feel important for other reasons.” you reply, not wanting to make him at fault for your whirlwind feelings as of late. 

he takes in what you say, smart enough to connect some dots. the picture you sent him of you holding baby midoriya in your arms and big brother proudly sitting on your lap was the happiest you’ve looked in some time. “the next chapter…as in, motherhood?” 

you look up at him, studying his mismatched eyes for a hint of how he feels. you sigh, “i know, i know. i guess that’s why i’ve been a little withdrawn…i feel bad about it, i know what you want.” you chuckle sadly, sipping at the wine provided. “really, i’m trying to get over it, i guess. maybe we could get a dog?” 

now he was disappointed. not in your desires, but that you put his possible feelings above your actual ones without ever speaking to him about it. just like you, he had changed as well. he wasn’t the same unsure eighteen year old he was when you married him, and though he still held trauma from his childhood, he had long accepted the concept of being a father since you were by his side. he could do anything if he was with you. he cuts into the meal and gives you a sympathetic glance. 

“you should have told me. a family…i think i’m ready for that, if you’re saying you’re ready to stay home in that way.” he hums, knowing you wouldn’t put yourself in harm’s way after becoming a mother. you gape at him, replaying his words over in your head. 

“wh–i don’t want you to do it just for me.” you double down, blindsided by his revelation. had you really put yourself through all of this for nothing? 

“i would do anything for you.” he replies instantly, and he meant that with no restrictions. “but i had considered it again around the time izuku welcomed his first.” 

“meaning you were ready four years ago?!” you almost cry out just from the shock alone, and he chuckles softly. 

“not ready to have one then, but i knew i would want some eventually. now is a good time. we’re stable. you made me nervous.” he sips at his wine, eating his food nonchalantly. 

“i made you nervous? i–” you sputter, still grappling with the fact that shouto was more than willing to try for a baby. 

“i thought i messed up, you were drifting from me. i wish i had known all you wanted was a child.” he hums thoughtfully, a full plan coming together in his head to comfort both of you. “and you haven’t been getting enough sleep for weeks, so i’ll make sure you get both tonight.” 

you took that to mean that he’ll fuck you to sleep, another thing he’s prone to do at times. so you shower and meet him in bed, trying to repress your giddiness. you didn’t notice the devious smirk your husband gave you as you sink into his arms. he pulls the blankets over you both, leaning in to give you the routine kisses before bed, and then he turns over like he’s going to sleep. 

you look at the ceiling in the dark with confusion. did he forget or change his mind? 

“you have to go to sleep before i’ll give you that child, sweetheart.” he speaks into the night, making your heart pound with a mix of frustration and intrigue and warmth at how he cares for you, as worked up as you were for him now, you groan and turn over. your brain is quiet as it’s your heart that races for once, and eventually you’re able to drift to sleep. 

he waits a few hours to make sure you’re good and asleep, his whole plan would be ruined if he woke you up. shouto loves you more than anything, and he hadn’t been exaggerating when he said he was worried. you had to be well rested, especially if you hoped to give him a baby after all. so only when he hears your quiet snores and deep breathing does he scoot closer, gently positioning you on your back. you dressed in a little nightgown in anticipation of him anyhow, so it was easy for him to locate your waiting bundle of nerves. he rubs you carefully, drawing small circles over your hood as you squirm the slightest bit beside him. he slides his fingers down to the familiar hole beneath, nodding at the feeling of slick appearing, your sweet body was responding to him. he crawls between your legs and carefully pushes your nightgown up over your chest, completely bewitched at the sight of your nipples perking up and goosebumps covering your perfect body. 

he thinks it’s almost ridiculous to think he wouldn’t want children with you. you’ve been in his life since his ua days and no one knew him like you did. you were someone so clearly meant to be a mother, it would be a crime not to give you the family you deserve. he easily parts your thighs, massaging and kneading the thickness he finds there as he lowers his face to your slick cunt. he’s always so gentle, but no time more than now as he hopes to remedy all your problems in one fell swoop like a good husband should. he laps at your center, angular nose bumping against the sensitive clit nestled above until he can hear your breathing change. he didn’t think he’d like it this much, but knowing that your body responds to him even subconsciously has his dick growing in his pants. you taste just as good as usual, growing wetter against his face with every passing second. he slides his fingers in, needing to know when you came. you spasm around the digits as his mouth focuses your swollen clit, and he knows you won’t take much longer. he may need his time understanding emotions and the like, but he knew your body like he knew his own. a few more flicks of his tongue over your nub and pumps of his fingers tickling your insides has you unraveling, and even in your sleep you look majestic cumming on his face. 

he shoves himself out of his boxers, admiring the way you still jerk when he presses his his fingers to your sensitivity. he draws your thighs around his slender hips, angling his pretty cock to your folds. he nuzzles the length along your folds to coat himself despite the pre oozing from his pink tip, taking a second to enjoy that sight in and of itself. then he sheaths himself, careful not to hiss too loud. you feel amazing, clenching him so tight even in the r.e.m stages of sleep, it’s almost too much for him to process. this was the first attempt at a baby, a family he never imagined himself having until he married and matured with you. it’s intoxicating, really, the way he rocks his way into your waiting pussy, silky walls guiding him in and out without any resistance. he has to bite down on his lip not to grunt and moan at how you feel, promising himself that he’d stay quiet and fill you to the brim. he pushes your legs to your chest, watching your face for any signs of discomfort. you only pant softly as he draws in and out of you, figuring this deep angle would be the best for his seed. 

all you did was follow his orders, getting the rest he demanded in exchange for his cum, even though he really won in the end. getting you to sleep, getting to see your body recognize and beg for him, getting to shove his cock deep and impress himself on your womb was more than a fair trade. a soft grunt slips past his lips as his hips stutter. his balls feel unimaginably heavy and then they don’t, his heavy load being fucked even deeper by the determined man you married. even when his warmth pools around his own dick as it goes soft inside you, he doesn’t quit, rolling his hips until he’s too sensitive to continue. 

he’s the one that doesn’t get any sleep that night, watching you sleep with his seed tucked in you only inspired him to take breaks and keep pumping you full, resigning himself to rest hours later  when he can’t possibly cum anymore.

[moonshynecybin]

i thinkkkkk this one is gonna be part of something larger but here's the first part of a fic (2.8k so far) where the first chapter is literally just rosquez having a conversation in an airport set around jerez 2024… i also wanted to add some good ole marquez brother goof arounds:

“Look, if you’re just gonna make fun of me—”

“No, please! I wanna hear the rest of this,” Alex says, leaning into Marc’s space and raising his eyebrows, goofy. It makes Marc let out a big laugh— full and loud. He stretches against the plastic of the airport gate seating, the movement pulling at overtired muscles. It feels like they’ve been here forever.

It’s been a long journey back to Spain— storm delays and rerouting stranding them in the airport for hours. They’re still here waiting for a connecting flight, puttering away next to their gate and shooting the shit. It’s been a good weekend —a podium for him— but he’s tired, and ready to be home.

“No no no no, I’m done.” He settles into his seat, pushing Alex’s face away from him. Alex cackles, and Marc points at him. “But you should do that professionally!”

Alex pulls one of his mild, exasperated faces, and it makes Marc smile wider. They’re probably being too loud. Marc doesn’t care.

“You know,” Alex points out, dragging out the last syllable of know so it sounds like knowwwww, “You are the world’s absolute worst loser.” 

Marc shrugs. “It’s a good thing, too— in our line of work you have to be.” He’s unrepentant. It’s how he’s built.

He ignores the face that Alex is surely making and leans down to rummage through his carry on, looking for headphones. For sure, if he has to lose to anyone, he’d prefer it was Alex. With him, the nagging bite of loss usually manages to morph into something lighter, more fun, just because he knows Alex won’t ever blame him for how he gets, how involved he can be in winning. That doesn’t mean he enjoys losing—he’ll never enjoy that—but it takes it back to being a game. None of the anticipation of a sour aftermath that he’s faced in the past, the wait for the other foot to drop, and the play to slide towards resentment without him noticing.

“I doubt losing at a video game will help you gain a competitive edge on the track,” Alex asserts dryly, turning his attention back to his phone and tapping open the Kindle app. He’s been obsessed with those fantasy novels, lately. “You can’t win at everything.”

“Trust me, I know,” Marc laughs, rubbing at his arm. He needs to call his PT. Whatever. “But! I don’t think that first thing is true.” Banishing the thought from his head, he leans over to poke Alex in the arm. Alex swats at his hand, not looking up from his book, and Marc pokes him again, harder this time. “I have a winner mentality.”

“You have a loser mentality. You just lost.” Alex is staring at what Marc thinks is the table of contents.

“Semantics.” Another poke.

Alex looks up, incredulous. Victory. 

“You were cheating! And you still lost!” 

“But you don’t have any proof of that.”

And Alex shakes his head like he can’t believe him, laughs again. “You are insufferable.”

Marc grins and Alex sighs, scrubs a hand over his head.

“I’m going to go grab some water. Maybe eventually they’ll let us board this fucking plane. You want anything?”

Marc shakes his head.

“No, I’m good.” He ate earlier. He opens his phone back up, thumbs over his home screen. Nothing looks exciting. He hasn't been on instagram so much lately– avoiding comments.

He sighs and contemplates opening his dating app. He doesn’t.

Nothing’s felt— he’s busy. 

It’s always been too much— too complicated with his schedule, with travel, timezones, turning over battles in his head. Braking maneuvers and tire pressure edging out any relationship before it got off the ground properly. Lately, since his arm, and since Alex had told him to go find someone— it’s been nagging more.

But no one gets it. Not like he does. And he’s just never found someone that felt like they were worth all of the effort it would take, keeping a relationship together in a life like his, bending himself around racing. There’s been flashes, some false starts, but nothing has ever–

He hears a distracted chuckle behind his back, a light sound, happy, and it hooks him, hard. A sucker punch. He glances over, his previous train of thought abandoned.

It’s— 

He's heard that laugh before. 

They haven’t seen each other— properly, actually exchanging words— since last year. The end of the season. They were both in the bathroom at the Lights Out Gala. Marc in a tux, Vale in a flannel. Marc had held the door for Vale as he had left. 

Vale, once he’d registered his presence, had thrown him a thin lipped, restrained smile, and thanked him. Asked him vaguely about his surgery. Moved on.

And now he’s on the phone, a few feet away, and he probably hasn’t even seen Marc yet. Instead, he’s chattering lowly, head slightly tilted as he drags a thumb over the handle of his suitcase.

Marc has to wonder if stuff like this happens to other people.

Alex hasn’t left yet, but is about to. He's noticed, of course he noticed, and he tugs on Marc’s sleeve, voice low. “You need me to stay?”

Marc shrugs, shakes his head. He's been around Vale before, after everything, in close quarters even. It's fine. 

He's had a lot of practice.

Those last few years, before Vale retired, after Argentina—after Sepang, really, though he maybe hadn’t processed it yet— he worked on it a lot. On taking Vale off of the pedestal, making him more of a person. On realizing he was always going to have a different relationship to Vale than Vale would to him.

He works hard at that distance, enforcing it, maintaining it. Tending to it.

And he had gotten somewhere better, once he had realized that. Had stopped trying to say hi to him every time he saw him. Vale is his hero, and he knows by know that that’s never going to change completely. The precise way his presence lights Marc up, makes him giddy, the disbelieving undercurrent that Valentino Rossi knows his name— but he also has come to terms with the fact that it's never going to be like he imagined when he was twenty, and he thought maybe he could matter as much to Vale as he did to Marc.

He knows that.

But it was an adjustment. It took some time. It’s better now. He's used to it.

Now, he can sit at an airport gate with him and ignore him.

He’s probably been staring at his phone screen a little too hard. 

“Allora— so, how have you been?” A voice asks, simply, closer to his ear than it should be. Of course.

He puts the emphasis on you, the full force of him narrowed on the word. Marc stays very, forcibly still. Projects calm.

Vale’s across from him, now, got there without him noticing. His legs are spread out wide in the seat across from Marc, hat pulled low and posture easy. His face is neutral— pleasant. Marc knows that means absolutely nothing.

Vale’s gaze charts over him, carefully, taking him in. Marc swallows, steels his jaw.

Vale has always had a way of observing. Leveraging that beam of attention. He doesn’t miss a thing, never has, and he looks good— tired, but relaxed, thin frame bundled up in a hoodie, hat pulled low over his forehead. Incognito mode, Marc remembers him joking sometime in 2013, after they had snuck out of the paddock to grab a drink at a bar post media day. But you always dress like that, Marc had said, probably too confidently, and Vale had laughed, had leant in and said Well, if I want them to recognize me, I just wear the Yamaha shirt.

Marc blinks. Vale’s eyebrows are raised, expectantly. He’s been quiet too long.

“Why?” He asks pleasantly. No use pretending.

“How have you been?” Vale asks, evenly, continuing as if Marc didn’t talk. “It has been a few months, yes? Since we’ve seen each other? The gala?” He looks away, shrugging. “I wondered about your arm– it seems better.”

“You could have texted.” Marc says, furrowing his brow. He's being overly serious, he knows, but he’s curious. He didn’t expect Vale to text, knew he wouldn’t actually. It still, despite it all, prickled at him. Whenever he was injured, before, Vale would always ask. He hadn't, anytime in the last four years, despite the severity of the injury.

So why is he asking now.

Vale huffs a laugh, swipes a thumb over his phone case, waves it lazily. “My number, it ah, leaked.” He makes a face. “I had to get a new phone a while ago. I don't think your contact made it over.”

It’s better than him deleting it. Better than Marc expected, to be honest.

It could also be a lie.

“Oh. Well.” Marc, says, unsure how to continue. He smiles at Vale anyways, lifts his good shoulder, combing through his brain for what he actually wants Vale to know about his arm. Not lying, just slightly to the left of the truth. He doesn't want anything getting back to Pecco, but Vale can sense insincerity from a mile off.

“I can't complain. The last surgery, it helped.”

Vale’s eyebrows jump, making a little grimace. “I heard, it did not look very pleasant.”

The documentary, Marc thinks, Did he watch the fucking documentary?

“—Now it’s just the bike? Managing the new braking style?” Vale asks. Marc cannot fucking remember the last time Vale asked him two questions in a row.

“Ah, you know. Trade secret.” Vale’s team is also vying for the GP25 — best to keep as much as he can close to his chest.

Vale raises an eyebrow and Marc folds like a cheap stack of cards.

He sighs. nods. Who cares. Vale’s watched him ride for years, he knows Marc still has a little bit to improve on the year old Ducati. He’s seen the data.

“Now it’s just the getting the bike, nailing the setup.” He goes for the PR version of the truth. Nevermind that his arm is still in PT three times a week. The Ducati is good— Marc is having more fun. Fighting at the front. Adjusting easier than he thought he would.

But it’s not a Honda. He needs a bit more time, and he needs– he needs the factory spec. And it looks like Jorge Martin might be the one to get it.

Vale nods, neutral, like the conversation’s ending, like he’s being gracious with Marc’s answer, letting him keep his emotions close— and a sharp, unexplainable feeling digs into Marc’s chest, that same way it did when he was watching him from the seat over in whatever press conference, those first few years. He wants to keep Vale talking. Wants him to keep looking at Marc, wants to— Marc doesn’t quite know, exactly, but it feels a lot like he does on track, when he just can’t quite keep himself from reaching for the win.

He speaks. Vale’s gaze snaps back to him, head following after, a little lazier.

“You? How's endurance racing? Missing anything about MotoGP?”

He says like he doesn’t know. Like he doesn't keep tabs. Like people don’t ask him about Vale’s results.

Anyways, it's hard to be involved in MotoGP and not hear about Vale, even when he’s been retired going into three years now. People talk, always eager for Marc’s opinion on his great rival.

There’s a quirk at the corner of Vale’s mouth. Like he’s won something. Marc curls a fist tight, ignoring the feeling that he’s given information away.

“Some things.” Vale replies, an odd glimmer to him. His brow furrows, then: “I miss how it was around ten years ago, more.”

Marc blinks.

“— Getting old, I mean. It was not so fun, there at the end. I could see everything I wanted to do, every move I would've made on track, ” He sits down across from Marc, leans back in his seat, long torso bending with his lazy posture, the mood shifts and he laughs. “But I was too old! It was harder.”

Of course that’s what he meant. Marc doesn’t— he doesn’t miss Marc. doesn’t think about him much at all, probably. Wasn’t saying he missed how it was between them, ten years ago, when they were friends. Marc knows that.

“I'm getting up there, now.” Marc jokes, “Acosta, he is on the horizon.” He’s not sure it lands, but Vale huffs a laugh anyways, rubs at his eyebrow.

“You?” Vale asks, incredulous. That x-ray quality is back in his vision. He always— He used to always get Marc that way, when he would dial in and make Marc think the words he was saying mattered to him. 

Vale shakes his head, shimmies a shoulder, wags a finger. “No no no no, don’t try that– you are still young, you cant talk to me about old.”

Marc grins. He doesn’t feel it so much, now, the years between them, but it’s a nice reminder of how good it felt, being the up and comer on the scene. The next Valentino Rossi. That was fun.

But he’s older now, has been in the paddock longer than almost anyone, just like Vale had– and he can feel it, dragging at his arm. can see it, in the lines under his eyes, the unfamiliarity of the faces around him.

He wonders how Vale did it for so long. That slow decline— new people popping up every day, ones who learned from him, perfected ideas he pioneered, then using them against him. 

He remembers how he felt on the podium yesterday, and decides not to ask. He leans back.

“Ehhhh, you are not really that much older than me.”

Vale’s expression doesn’t change, still set at his default neutrally animated, but something charges in the air, and Marc gets the sense he wants to say something, toying with the edge of the cliff.

Marc searches for something that won’t rock the boat. He settles on a compliment.

“Pecco was good this weekend— He beat me. You trained him well.”

Vale’s shoulders slide down, relaxing minutely. The charge slips away. Success.

“Ah, he’s a lot better than he was when you showed up at the ranch ten years ago, yes.” 

Marc leans forwards, “Hey!” So much for avoiding fraught topics.

Vale tilts his chin, considering. “What did you say about him? I don’t think it was flattering–”

“—That was ten years ago! I’m wrong ONCE.”

“Once is enough!”

“Apparently.” Marc hits back. 

And it’s good— they’re laughing, Marc thinks, he’s laughing— but that last bit, the apparently, hangs there, snagging in Marc’s mind.

Once is enough. Apparently.

Vale’s smile dies slowly, once it’s clear Marc isn’t about to continue, and it’s odd. Not fraught, for once— though Marc hasn't been the best at recognizing when it was in the past, but he’s pretty sure here. The moment dangles for a second, as they sit across from each other in an airport looking at each other. Vale’s face is doing that thing it was earlier, where he seems to be on the verge of some moment, and his mouth opens. For some reason, Marc flushes hot on the back of his neck. His skin feels tight, and their eye contact holds.

“All good?” It’s Alex, coming back with his Smartwater.

Vale sits up straighter, immediately, posture snapping into place. He nods at Alex, who ignores him, and slides back into his seat. He shrugs at Marc, a little in-joke. What did I do? it asks, fully knowing the answer. Alex has never been as shy as Marc is about his feelings concerning Valentino Rossi. 

And it's that above anything that makes Marc feel like he’s dunked his head in ice water, reality crashing in. The moment snaps as Vale tucks back into himself, leaving Marc off his balance. He feels dizzy and a little off kilter, like he’s done something wrong, like he’s gotten away with something, something illicit, which is ridiculous — he’s just been sitting here.

Nothing’s even happened. They've been two meters away from each other the entire time.

They haven’t even touched.

Vale’s eyes are boring into him, blue and clear. Alert. And Marc catches a flash of— concern, maybe, his brow is creasing— and it tugs at Marc, makes him want to glance back and make him feel easy, lift the corner of his mouth, shrug his shoulders and dismiss Alex’s chilliness. Makes him hot and nervy, out of his skin with the need to do something he doesn’t have a name for.

He smiles.

Maybe he is doing something wrong.

Vale smiles back, and it’s brilliant.

The flight attendant comes over the PA. They’re boarding.

[moonlightshaiku]

Oops!

Spock x Reader

Word Count:

Warnings: second hand embarrassment, puke

Ao3: N/A

Notes:

I just like the idea of accidentally giving spock a vulcan kiss, okay????

Tag List:

You knew that Mccoy's response of "Well be more social, then," was a result of him being busy. Not paying attention. But, you'd taken it to heart.

Being alone in your room so often had tanked your mental health. Introverted or not, part of "self care" is letting out your thoughts and feelings.

You can't help but think that self care is too complicated. Hygiene in itself is a fifty point list.

The best plan you had was to introduce yourself to someone. That in itself is difficult. There are too many options and techniques.

It was hard when it was just humans—or at least, mainly humans—back on Earth. But in the Enterprise? With even more races and cultures? Squeezed in? Together?

You enter the lift, blandly speaking out your destination. It's only when you notice the shoes next to you, shining, that you realize you have a chance to just— do this. Get it over with.

The anxiety swells in your throat, and you can't help but think it's not worth it. It'll take so much effort, and if you don't say anything, they'll never know.

"Good morning!" You chirp, before you can put to much thought in. It's much more gruff than you meant. You realize, as you swallow, that this is the first time you've spoken today.

You almost wonder if they're going to reply, but then you see a hand.

It barely takes a second to connect the dots. A handshake! Easy.

In your excitement at the ease of this venture, you bring your right hand to meet their left—and—oh.

Wrong hand. Your hands are touching. Theirs is straight, yours across it. Your ring and little finger are touching the side of their hand, your thumb tucked over their's.

You glance up at them, you don't make eye contact.

Your first two fingers presses against their last.

His last. His last two fingers.

He's male.

"Oh sorry, wrong hand!"

A Vulcan male.

He's Spock.

"Oh shit."

You jerk your hand back.

"The crude wording is not needed, Lieutenant-Commander."

"Spocckkk." You draw out through your teeth, voice high pitched.

"Yes?"

The doors open, no one is there.

"I am. Fuck, I am sorry. It wasn't— fuck, sorry."

The door closes. The lift remains still.

"I didn't mean to—" you take a breath. "It wasn't my intention to—" you pause.

His eyebrows raise, your heart beats faster.

Can he report you for harassment over this? It was just a handshake— be pretty fucked up if he could.

It would be pretty fucked up if he couldn't, too. Damn.

He probably should report you.

He won't.

"Kiss you?"

The words feel like bile in your mouth.

Or are you about to puke?

"That's not a question. I did not mean to phrase that as a question." You attempt to repair quickly. "I did not want to kiss you."

Oh that sounds plan rude!

"Or, er— you know what I mean."

You blink at him. How long have you been talking?

"Are you done, Lieutenant-Commander?"

You stay quiet, and after a few moments, you realize that it's a genuine question.

"You can— you can call me Doctor. And yes. Sorry."

He nods. "Doctor. It was a mistake. It is of no consequence, and does not alter my opinion of you."

You nod, anxiety not fading. You do, however, remember to breathe.

"Can I make it up to you?" Is your timid reply. You find that Spocks eyebrows can reach impressive heights.

"I suppose so. However, I do not see a reason that 'making it up to me' is needed."

You let out a breathy chuckle after a long moment of silence, and it does good to ease the tightness in your chest.

"Okay." You breathe. "When... do you have time?"

Spock doesn't take any time to think. "Tonight would be sufficient."

You nod. "My quarters."

He nods.

"Okay, you'll probably have to add another bead, so it'll fit. Let me—" you shift closer to him, taking a look at the bracelet in his hand. "—look at it."

It's only slightly too small for him, now. He'd decided to use the small glass bead in an elaborate pattern of rust, royal blue and copper. You had used the large plastic beads, and jokingly put an S bead on the bracelet. Baby blue.

"I do not see the point in making bracelets, Doctor."

You laugh. He's been happily putting beads on a string. He'd taken around ten minutes just choosing colours.

"Only idea I could come up with, really. Part of human culture."

You lean over, shoulder bumping his. "Okay, that looks good. Can I check it?"

Spock's eyebrow twitches. "Yes. That is agreeable."

"Alrighty." You gently grab each end of his bracelet, and he sticks his hand out. You bring the bracelet up, cupping his wrist like a U.

"Huh." You huff, scooting forward. "Okay, yeah, that's good. Want me to tie it?"

You glance up, making eye contact with Spock. The green of his face makes your eyebrows crease, but his face stays impassive.

He nods.

You promptly begin tying the bracelet, tearing your gaze away from his.

Once you have it double knotted, you reach over to the table, retrieve the scissors, and grab his hand.

Once you've snipped the excess, you hide the knot under a bead.

"Doctor."

You hum. "Yes?"

When looking to Spock, you are met only by his unwavering stare and green cheeks. No words.

Your gaze travels down, your hand holding his.

"Oh fuck me."

"That does seem to be the message you are sending, Doctor."

[queenshelby]

Our Little Secret (Part 50)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Infidelity, Age-Gap, Triggers, Smut

Over the next three months, Cillian and you attended family counselling together once a week to establish a parenting plan and some serious boundaries after Cillian had overstepped the line on numerous occasions, bursting into your home uninvited and without any reason whatsoever. You were determined to work on your past relationship and give Mara the best chance at a healthy family life.

"Communication is the key" was what the therapist drilled into both of you, time and time again and, much to your surprise, Cillian was making a real effort. He attended every counselling session despite his busy schedule, and you could see a change in him.

He was no longer the hurricane of emotions, but a man on a mission to heal and rebuild what he had lost.

In time, you even started to see some glimpses of your old relationship with him, moments where you would laugh and talk like you used to. It was comforting in a way, but at the same time, it made things even more complicated than they already were.

You couldn't deny that you still had feelings for Cillian, and it seemed like he still had feelings for you too. But you also couldn't deny that you had moved on in some ways.

Over time and with the help of the counsellor you found a rhythm whereby Cillian took care of Mara most days when you were attending university again. She also stayed with him two nights per week, giving you a break from motherhood.  

It was not an ideal situation considering the circumstances, but it worked for all parties involved and you managed to share a communication book so that you could avoid endless text messaging just as the therapist had recommended. 

During these months, you also continued to see Sean, casually, for a date or two. He had turned out to be an unexpectedly sweet and sensitive lover and the sex between the two of you improved too.

You even managed to reach complete satisfaction now and then, whenever you were able to take charge of the situation, as Sean's love-making was unfortunately, rather passive compared to Cillian's experienced touch which, deep down inside of you, you craved deeply.

Usurpingly, Cillian insisted on no contact between your newfound lover and Mara until you considered something more serious with him which, to you, seemed fair. The therapist concurred with Cillian in this regard, demanding the same from him if he was to start dating again, and you were simply grateful that, after all this time, Cillian, as Mara's father. accepted the fact that Sean was in your life now.

Occasionally, Cillian would call Sean your toyboy to get under your skin while, at the same time, reminding you how much you still meant to him without being too pushy. 

He still couldn't stand the thought of you sleeping with someone else and it was clear to you that he missed you terribly and was struggling to deal with the fact that you had moved on.

This was an issue that came up during therapy now and then where the counsellor reminded him of your boundaries, but overall, Cillian's interference in your life was minimal. 

So, in the grand scheme of things, you were able to focus on your new relationship with Sean while also trying to establish some level of peace with Cillian for the sake of Mara which was, at least, until you both got caught up in a situation neither of you could foresee and this was Siobhan's wedding. 

Due to the close connection you had shared with her for almost a year now, Cillian's sister Siobhan invited you to her upcoming wedding in Cork where she would marry one of Cillian's friends. 

The two of them had been dating for almost 18 months now and their decision to get hitched caught everyone by surprise.  Siobhan, being Cillian's younger sister was like a second sister to you and she had been your confidant more times than not during the early days of your breakup with Cillian.

Now, she was inviting you to her wedding at the idyllic Bay View Hotel, nestled along the coastline overlooking the ocean. It was a beautiful setting, but it was also making you somewhat anxious due to the fact that Cillian would be there as well, which Sean wasn't too happy about either.

"I don't know, Y/N. Being surrounded by Cillian and his entire family can't be a good thing," he confided in you as you told him about the invitation and the fact that you would not be taking him as a plus one simply to defuse any potential conflict with your ex.

"Cillian's family has been great, Sean. I have to go. Siobhan is a friend of mine and I couldn't have gotten through the breakup and counselling without her," you explained, giving him a gentle squeeze. "Despite, it's my decision and we aren't even dating, so there's nothing for you to worry about."

Sean looked at you, his eyes full of uncertainty. "I know, I just don't like it though," he stammered and you immediately rolled your eyes. 

"Please tell me that this isn't jealousy Sean, because we agreed to be friends with benefits, and nothing more," you replied sternly. "I don't want a relationship right now and you told me that neither do you," you added, trying to make him see reason.

Sean hesitated, his gaze dropping to the ground as he fiddled with his hands. "I know, and I'm not asking for one," he said, looking back up at you with a sincere expression. "I'm just concerned that he will ruin what we have built so far." 

You couldn't help but roll your eyes again. "Cillian and I are over Sean. We have been trying to remain cordial for Mara's sake, but our relationship is purely platonic now," you assured Sean, knowing that both of you were still in limbo and trying to figure out where your relationship was going.

You weren't ready to commit to Sean, and neither was he, refusing to introduce to his friends because of your complicated past with a man who was in the public eye. 

It upset you greatly that he never introduced you to his friends and you knew that he was embarrassed about being with someone like you, someone who had a child at a young age with someone famous. 

But what upset you even more was the fact that he brought Cillian up continuously, asking you how you were able to fall for him, a man so much older than you. 

He would ask you why you were still hung up on Cillian, why you couldn't move on from the past when it was clear that things between you and Cillian had come to an end.

You tried your best to explain it to him, telling him it was because you had a child together and went through a lot with Cillian, but Sean never seemed to fully understand. You knew that he was insecure about the situation and you couldn't blame him for that, but it still hurt that he couldn't see things from your perspective.

You didn't want to be stuck in the past, but you also couldn't forget about it either so, in the end, you became rather excited about Siobhan's wedding, which was a small gathering of only fifty or so people. 

A week later, you went dress shopping with Siobhan and two of her friends who, just like her, were in their early forties.  They turned out to be fabulous women with sharp wit and sarcasm that matched your own. You laughed and joked together while trying on various dresses in a quaint store on Grafton Street, which is when one of the women brought up a more sensitive topic again.

"So, I hope you don't mind me asking Siobhan, but is your brother Cillian going to bring a plus one to your wedding?" she inquired innocently, looking at her friend thoughtfully, while not realizing that you were Cillian's ex-girlfriend and the mother of his child. 

Siobhan shot her friend a look before turning to you. "I'm sorry, Y/N, she doesn't know," she said apologetically before explaining to her friend that you are, in fact, Cillian's ex-girlfriend. 

"Oh shit," she gasped, looking guilty before apologizing again. "I didn't realize that! I'm so sorry for bringing that up then."

"It's alright," you laughed, brushing off the comment. "We are on reasonably good terms," you told the friend  , hoping that you sounded convincing.

"So, you wouldn't mind if I made a move then?" the woman then asked, causing you to chuckle.

"Not at all, go ahead," you replied, smiling awkwardly just as the friend looked back at Siobhan who rolled her eyes again. 

"Geez, what is it with all you women taking an interest in my brother?" Siobhan complained, causing you and the friend to chuckle again. 

"He is a good-looking man Siobhan," the friend continued, causing Siobhan to want to throw up while you took another big sip from your glass of champagne to ease the discomfort in the pit of your stomach. 

"Well, if it's any help to you, I can confirm that he will be attending the wedding solo, as the best man of the groom. He is still single after the beautiful Y/N here broke up with him and, from what I have heard, he has no interest in dating anyone right now, whether casually or otherwise, so good luck to you," Siobhan informed her friend before sipping her own glass of champagne, relieved that the awkward topic was behind them.

"That's a shame," the woman said, pouting her lip pensively. "You broke his heart, sweetie," she then teased you, genuinely trying to be funny, but causing you to relive  some of the pain you went through when you broke up with Cillian.

"I suppose I did," you agreed, trying to keep it as lighthearted as possible, but finding it difficult.

You knew that breaking up with Cillian was the right decision for both of you, but it still hurt as you missed his company every day. 

"But hey, that's life, right?" you continued, trying to brush it off and everyone agreed to change the topic.  You and Siobhan walked around the store, trying on various dresses for the wedding, with the woman and her friend tagging along.

You were the most comfortable in a stunning emerald, green dress that hugged your curves perfectly, but it was way out of your price range.

You took a deep breath as you turned away from the mirror, hunched over with disappointment.

"It looks absolutely amazing on you," she told you , standing so close behind that you could almost feel her excitement.

"It's stunning," she admired the dress again, unable to take her eyes off it, but deep down, knowing that you couldn't justify the price.

"I know, I absolutely love it," you sighed. "But I just can't afford it, which is fine. I have other priorities," you said, turning to face her with a frown on your face.

"My brother is giving you money, isn't he?"  Siobhan asked knowingly, a smile playing on her lips.

"Yes, and I told him many times that I don't want his money, so I have been putting it all straight into Mara's bank account," you admitted  , knowing that Cillian has been trying to assist financially, knowing how hard it is to provide for a child on your own.

"But that was not the agreement you had put in place, and I know that because I wrote up the agreement between you and my brother well before Mara was born," Siobhan reminded you, squeezing your hand lightly as she stood beside you. Siobhan had always been the voice of reason in your life, and you were grateful for that.

"He is giving you money until you graduate and find employment in a law firm. That money is not child support. It is money for you and Mara to share, so you can afford that dress Y/N," Siobhan continued, looking at you with gentle knowing eyes.

"I know, but it doesn't feel right," you told her honestly, feeling a pang of guilt and remorse. "So, I will just think about it, okay?" 

you finally told Siobhan, trying to appease her without making any promises.

You had always been proud of your independence and self-sufficiency, and the thought of taking money from Cillian felt like a step backwards.

But Siobhan was right, the agreement had been made and Cillian was determined to fulfill his obligations towards you and Mara.

You had to admit, the money would come in handy, especially now that you were back in university and had student loans to pay but that all was for another day.

For now, you wanted to just enjoy your time with Siobhan, whose wedding day was fast approaching. 

Tags:

@sunbeamseas @saint-ackerman @oatmealisweird @naxxsstuff @amanda08319 @r-m-cidnah @elysiannook @cillshot @infireddabdab @tastycakee @harrysbestiee @lilybabe22 @adalynlowell @henrywintersdearestgirl @ietss @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @ryiamarie @axionn

@nela-cutie @futurecorps3 @delishen @nosebleeds-247 @thirteenis-myluckynumber @gills-lounge @hjmalmed @lost-fantasy @tiredkitten @sidechrisporn @smallsoulunknown @charqing-qing @hopefulinlove @aporiasposts @shycrybaby @me-and-your-husband @hjmalmed @lacontroller1991 @galxydefender @aporiasposts

@galxydefender @hunnibearrr @saint-ackerman @lunyyx @gentlemonsterjennie1 @ihavealotoffandomssorry @nadloves @lost-fantasy @nolucesn@mcavoy-girl @hjmalmed @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @blushykiss @tatumrileyslover @teawithsatanx @orijanko @rhaenyra4ever @xcinnamonmalfoyx @budugu @nadloves @kmc1989 @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @forgottenpeakywriter @smailaway @sophiaaguirred @blondie-22

[ann4zw]

My Perfect Girl.

N/a: Let's start with an apology. Because English is not my native language and I know there can be a lot of mistakes in English. I would appreciate if you could inform me about this error.I've written a thing or two before, but this is the first time I've written something like this and it's about Hayden and one of his characters. I've never written anything NSFW either, but I hope you like it, kisses from Ana. (⁠｡⁠•̀⁠ᴗ⁠-⁠)⁠✧

Content warnings: NSFW content!! Sam Monroe x reader, mention of drugs (marijuana), explicit sex, characters of legal age.

You were returning from a long walk to clear your head. Before leaving the house, you had a heated fight with your parents. Immersed in a sea of emotions, you found yourself weighed down by the overwhelming weight of being constantly underestimated. His weakened self-esteem reflected the lack of recognition from his family, who inadvertently focused more on expectations and demands than on his true qualities and efforts dedicated to them.

Every benevolent act you performed seemed to disappear in the shadow of family demands, without receiving the praise and recognition it deserved. The constant pressure left you immersed in a feeling of devaluation, as if the light of your achievements were constantly dimmed by the incessant noise of demands.

The bitter melody of lack of recognition echoed in his heart, even as he struggled to provide support and care to those around him.

In the middle of this tumultuous path, his eyes met those of Sam Monroe, his dear neighbor, who was on the porch of his house smoking marijuana. The moon cast a soft light over the scene, and when their eyes met, Sam gave a small wave in his direction. With nothing to lose, you decided to get closer, you didn't want to go home anyway.

"Are you humble enough to share the dram?" he asked, staring at Sam with a smirk as he leaned against the porch. He replied with a sarcastic smile, "I didn't think Miss Perfect was into that kind of thing," but he eventually gave in and shared the joint.

"Perfection is overrated, don't you think? Sometimes we need to escape the pressure and just live." You with a yellow smile as you took the joint to your mouth and took a light drag, you feel Sam watching you as you do so.

"True. Life is complicated enough. Sometimes a break is all we need." Sam responds by changing the direction of his gaze to the moon.

As you share light-hearted laughter and thoughts, the initial tension between you melts away. Sam, more seriously, asks, "What about you? What brought you here on this complicated night?"

You hesitate for a moment but end up deciding to share, once again, what do you have to lose? "Family, expectations... I feel like I'm always trying to meet their demands, but it's never enough."

Sam looks at you in a way you can't decipher and says. "I understand."

The conversation flows smoothly, and as the joint is shared, a deeper connection is established. You suddenly feel Sam's hand caressing his face, and then you turn your face slightly so you can meet his eyes, oh, those eyes...

"You're so..." he seems to get a little lost for words but ends with "beautiful." you feel a slight fervor on your face when you hear the praise coming from Sam, before you can respond he speaks; "I could kiss you right now." he said with an amused tone as he tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear.

"Then kiss.." I take the courage out of my ass to say that but I'm glad I said it.

Heart racing, hands shaking slightly. I look into Sam's deep eyes, feeling the electric energy between us. With a playful smile on his face, he leans towards me slightly, capturing my lips softly. The kiss starts out soft and tentative, but soon turns into something more intense and passionate. Sam's hands lightly cup his face, while I surrender to the moment, feeling the warmth of his touch and the sweetness of the kiss. It's a magical moment, where the world around you disappears, and you find yourself immersed in the intimacy of this special moment.

Your breathing gets deeper as Sam's kisses send goosebumps across your skin. You feel enveloped by a wave of desire, an intense fire burning within you. With a shaking hand, you caress Sam's face as he continues to explore every inch of your neck. Every touch, every movement, seems to electrify his body, making his senses seem to be on edge, completely surrendered to the overwhelming passion of the moment. Whispers of pleasure escape your lips, and you feel completely enveloped by this intense connection with Sam. The world around you disappears as you give in to the pure emotion of the moment.

With a quick movement, Sam traps you between him and the balcony, holding tight to your waist, while lowering his lips to his neck. You rest your hand on the back of his neck, lightly pulling his dyed black hair, feeling his body react with heat and fervor to the hot kiss that Sam places on his neck. His every touch is like a flame that ignites his skin, taking you to a state of ecstasy and complete surrender to the fiery moment you share.

Your breathing gets deeper as Sam's kisses send goosebumps across your skin. You feel enveloped by a wave of desire, an intense fire burning within you. Every touch, every movement, seems to electrify your body, making your senses seem to be on edge. Whispers of pleasure escape your lips, and you feel completely enveloped by this intense connection with Sam. The world around you disappears as you give in to the pure emotion of the moment.

Sam suddenly stops the kisses, and you look at him with a confused look. "We can't do that here, pretty." he says. You have a great idea and look at him with a mischievous smile. He soon returns the smile, curious about what is going on in your mind, and his eyes shine brightly as he waits to find out what you are planning.

With a quick, purposeful movement, you grab Sam's hand and pull him towards your house. As soon as you enter the main door, you hear murmurs coming from the kitchen, where your parents are busy with some activity that you don't even care about. Sam understands the situation and gives you a knowing look, smiling with admiration for your determined manner. Without hesitation, you lead him to his room.

As soon as they enter the room, Sam acts quickly by pressing you against the door and sharing a passionate kiss with you. You can feel his warm, calloused hands smooth your ass and then give them a firm squeeze. You push him gently, leading Sam to the bed.

"What's the plan now?" Sam asks, giving him a curious look.

You respond with a mischievous smile, "Well, I guess we'll make this moment even more interesting." Kneeling in front of him, he adds, "What do you think?" Sam picks up on the suggestion and returns the look with a mischievous smile, understanding perfectly. With agility, you unbuckle Sam's belt, taking his cock out. It was bigger than thick, it was red and with pulsing veins, which only increased his desire to shove it down his throat.

You then place his red head on your lips, sucking it like it's candy. Sam's loud moans fill the room as he throws his head back. With confidence, you welcome him completely into your mouth, making skillful back and forth movements, intensifying the connection between you while maintaining eye contact with Sam, you watch him moan, with his mouth half open, his forehead sweaty. You just smile, thinking if that's all for you.

Sam moans praise, saying: "Such a beautiful girl, such a delicious mouth..." When he tries to put his hand on his head to maintain a rhythm, you intensify the suction, forcing him to place his hands on the bed for support. and avoid collapsing in the face of the intensity of the moment.

Sam's chest rose and fell, his moans echoing in the room, you increase the suction even more and begin to massage his sensitive balls as well. "Pretty, I'm going to cum.." Sam's moans took on a desperate tone, he needed to cum. Sam began to moan his name repeatedly, increasingly euphoric, as if the words were a visceral expression of pleasure. The room echoed with your moans, he tries to push your head so you can let his cock free from your mouth but you hold your thighs tightly, feeling hot ropes of sperm in your throat, you swallow everything that Sam pours for you, without stop sucking him even more, even though he has already cum..

"honey, that's too much." He moans loudly from overstimulation as you continue working with his sensitive cock, he tries to push you away but he is out of strength from his recent orgasm. “pretty, I don’t…” a loud moan escapes his lips as he tries to stammer out the words. "I can't take it-" his breathing becomes even faster as he moans even louder, giving rise to his second orgasm. You insist on taking him until the last drop that comes out of that beautiful cock.

When you're sure you've done it, you slowly back away as you watch Sam recover. He looks at you with a mischievous smile on his face. "My God, you're perfect," Sam said with an amused tone and a hoarse voice, revealing a mixture of surprise and admiration. In response, you smile and go on top of him, fishing his lips in a wet kiss, sharing the taste of your own cock and cum with him. “You taste so good,” you say in a whisper as you continue to kiss Sam, sucking and biting his lower lips. Sam ran his hands over your body, taking off your clothes while you enjoyed his mouth with the best kiss you've ever tasted.

"I think mine comes from making you moan, don't you think?" He says with a smile, laying you down on the bed, climbing on top of you and running his tongue over your nipple, sucking it like a baby in search of your breast milk. Brushing his dick against your soaked entrance, he lifts his head to look at you and says, “Ready?” He asks with a horny smile, before you can respond, Sam shoves his entire length into your hungry hole, making you scream in a loud moan, the stretch giving you a pain that makes you arch your back. "Oops, it slipped.." he says with an amused tone. "I-Idiot.." you moan and he runs his finger across your lips. "Be quiet, pretty, you don't want your parents to come here, do you?" Sam teases and you remember that your parents are home, damn it, you completely forgot about that, but you have something more important to think about right now.

He immediately grabbed her hand and began to thrust hard and fast, dragging his tongue down her throat to her breasts and sucking them. Sam took his hand and lifted his head to lick his ear, speaking very softly in his ear. "Okay, pretty? I can do this all day." In response to his provocation, you let out an extremely loud moan, Sam covered your mouth and spoke. "Noisy bitch." He says with a mocking smile on his face. Sam kissed you, groping your breasts and pinching your nipples, making you shudder.

"Ah, pretty", he says between moans, "You're a complete mess, so perfect... my perfect girl."

He pulls you into a wet, dirty kiss and you whimper, drooling on his lips, your eyelashes fluttering as they touch your clit.

"Taking my dick so well with that perfect pussy.." He kisses you on the neck, giving light hickeys, never stopping to thrust hard inside you, reaching your sweetest spot, it doesn't take long for you to feel a familiar sensation in your core. "Sam.. I'm going to cum!" You say with a moan, your back arching as your chest rose and fell. Sam, upon hearing his words, pulls your legs to rest them on his shoulder and starts thrusting uncontrollably, making you scream even more, the impact noise of the meat hitting each other was loud and echoed throughout the room. “cum for me, perfect girl, pour your delicious honey on my dick” He says teasingly in your ear, he knows the effects it has on you. As you feel the knot in your core break, you moan Sam's name as you spill your cum onto his cock, after a few thrusts, Sam does the same to your pussy.

After the moment of ecstasy, Sam collapsed next to him, the bed serving as a silent witness to their shared emotions. Both tried to catch their breath, their sweaty bodies revealing the intensity of the encounter. The room, which had been too noisy, was now filled with silence, just the subtle echo of intertwined breaths, as tiredness transformed into a comforting feeling of shared intimacy.

Sam's gaze finds his pussy, which was dripping with both of your cum, and a smile forms on his lips. “Look at this,” he says looking at you, his lips find yours tenderly, he holds your chin gently. "You're perfect," he says, each word filled with appreciation. The intimacy of the moment transcends words, leaving only the sweet melody of shared connection in the air. "My perfect girl." , gently stroking your abdomen as he strokes your hair.

Sam looks at you with a smile after the shared moment. "Do you always have that amazing smile after a moment like that?"

"Maybe it's your ability to bring smiles." You respond jokingly.

Sam laughs softly, appreciating the answer.

"Well, I can only thank you for the inspiration. How do you feel now?" He asks and you reflect on the moment, expressing your feelings. "Like I'm floating on clouds, what about you?"

Sam shares the same sentiment. "The same. I think we managed to create something special here." Both recognize the uniqueness of the moment.

"Definitely."

As you enjoyed each other's caresses, a sound of footsteps echoes down the stairs, making you quickly look at Sam.

"Sam, you locked the door didn't you?" Sam looks at you confused, and for a brief moment, you share a look of mutual surprise.

"What? I thought you locked it."

[knightsbrig]

I’ve been having some thoughts about a Demon!Kyojuro AU, and most of the art I’ve made on it has been some pretty light-hearted akaren stuff, but I actually have a lot of complicated thoughts about Demon!Kyojuro, and I think it’s actually a really interesting concept because of what we know about demons in KNY.

Demons are often perversions of the human that they once were. We see this with Hakuji, how he forgot all of his love and care for those close to him, how the only thing he was left with was rage and violence. We see this with Daki, how she embraced the cruelty and vanity of being a being a demon after she forgot her troubled past. We see this even with demons like Kyogai and Rui, who both discard the people and things they were passionate for in favor of a twisted desire for acceptance. They’re broken people who don’t remember why they’re broken, and their every negative and selfish impulse is encouraged.

So… how does this apply to Kyojuro?

Well, I can’t see him becoming a sadist, or actively enjoying the act of inflicting harm on people, but this isn’t to say that he’d be a ‘good’ demon like Nezuko.

He wakes up and has no idea who he is. A stranger with tattoos and fangs tells him he is a demon by the name of Rengoku Kyojuro, and some part of that doesn’t sound right.

Kyojuro struggles at first. The corpses that his tattooed companion brings him look awful, and yet they’re the most delicious things he’s ever eaten. He feels compelled to exclaim how tasty it is with every messy bite. Despite how wrong it first feels, he enjoys eating, and Akaza always tells him that this is simply what demons do. Kyojuro sees the logic, and supposes that he is a demon, and he that he does, in fact, enjoy it.

Still, even after Akaza gifts him a sword, a beautiful work of Akaza’s demonic flesh, he feels aimless. What is his purpose? He’s been told he will live forever, but he has not one idea what he’s supposed to do with all that time.

First, Kyojuro tries befriending some humans. It works very well. Through his travels, he rediscovers that humans are magnificent creatures, no matter what role they serve— be that a demon’s meal or a skilled artisan! There is no shame in dying to a demon. After all, it would be quite silly for a rabbit feel shame for being caught in the jaws of a fox.

Most demons, however, are hostile to Kyojuro when he first approaches. They try to fight him or command him to leave their turf through their clenched fangs. Kyojuro is not dissuaded easily. Every demon he encounters puts up a front of cruelty and violence, but Kyojuro refuses to believe that’s all there is to every other demon besides himself.

And he’s right. It takes great effort and greater consistency, but once he strips back the brutality, demons are much, much like humans. They have passions and carry hobbies. They yearn for certain connection and have goals of their own they strive towards— there’s so much potential in them, isn’t there? They have so many stories about the past, how they adapt, how they survive and learn. Their Blood Arts are all so unique, their mutations and skills so varied.

Kyojuro loves demons.

And when his friends start being beheaded? Kyojuro sees only one thing to do. He is a strong demon, and it is his responsibility to protect the weak.

[falafelluva]

hiiii can u do a best friends to lovers with kenan😝

; 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 - 𝘬.𝘺𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘪𝘻 ✮

summary: the req😛

warnings: male being a male

author’s note: I didnt know what to write so I decided to make yet another man look bad xx

You sat on the edge of your bed, staring blankly at your phone. It was late, but you felt wide awake, your heart heavy with the weight of betrayal.

Just a few hours ago, you had learned that your boyfriend, Amir, had cheated on you. The news had hit like a punch to the gut, leaving you reeling.

You had tried to take things slow with Amir, wanting to build a genuine connection first. But instead of understanding, he had found someone else—someone who was willing to jump into the physical side of the relationship without hesitation.

The tears had come quickly, and despite the hurt, you felt too numb to cry. As the night wore on, you could hear your phone buzzing with messages from friends checking in. But it was Kenan, your best friend, who you wished would just show up without asking. He always knew when you needed him—it had been that way since little.

You heard a soft knock on the door, and your heart lifted slightly. “Hey, it’s me,” Kenan called, his voice warm and familiar.

Without waiting for an answer, he opened the door and stepped inside, a worried look on his face. “I heard what happened. Are you okay?”

You shook your head, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over. “Not really.”

Kenan crossed the room and sat down beside you, his presence a comforting balm on your wounded heart. “You didn’t deserve that.” He looked at you, his eyes filled with empathy. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You sighed, resting your head against the wall. “It’s just… I didn’t want to rush into anything with Amir. I thought he understood, but he just… he didn’t care.”

Kenan’s expression hardened, a flash of anger crossing his features. “You deserve someone who respects you and your boundaries. He’s an idiot for not seeing how amazing you are.”

The sincerity in his voice made you feel a flicker of hope, and you managed a small smile.

“Thanks, Kenan, but maybe I should’ve just done what he wanted,” you murmured, feeling the weight of guilt settle over you.

“Don’t say that,” Kenan replied firmly. “You should never have to change who you are for someone else. You deserve someone who appreciates you for you.”

“Let’s go grab some ice cream. It’ll help, I promise,” he suggested, a bright smile breaking through your sadness. You could never resist that smile; it always had a way of lifting your spirits.

You laughed softly, appreciating his effort to cheer you up. “That actually sounds perfect.”

As you walked together to the nearby ice cream shop, you shared stories and laughter, even managing to forget about the pain for a little while.

Kenan was always good at making you feel better, and you cherished the friendship you two had built over the years.

He was the one who had been there for you through breakups, academic stress, and family issues, always knowing just what to say to lift you up.

Once you arrived, you ordered your favorite flavors, and he insisted on treating you. “Hm,” he hummed, handing you a cone piled high with your favorite flavor.

“Thanks, Kenan. You’re the best,” you said, genuinely touched by his kindness.

As you sat on a bench outside the shop, sharing your ice cream, Kenan’s gaze was serious, and you could sense that he had something weighing on his mind.

“Listen, I need to tell you something,” he began, looking a bit nervous. You raised an eyebrow, curious.

“I know you’re hurting right now, and I don’t want to complicate things, but I’ve liked you for a long time. I just didn’t know how to tell you.”

You paused mid-bite, your heart racing.

Kenan liked you?

The thought sent a rush of confusion through you. “Kenan, I… I don’t know what to say. I just got out of a relationship.”

“I get that. I really do. But I’ve watched you go through so much, and I can’t help but want to be there for you, in more ways than just friends. I care about you, like, a lot. And I just wanted you to know, uh.” he confessed, his eyes searching yours for a response.

You felt a mix of emotions—sadness from the recent heartbreak and the surprising warmth that came from Kenan’s admission.

“I care about you too, Kenan. You’re one of my closest friends. But I’m not sure if I’m ready for anything more right now.”

“I understand,” he said, a hint of disappointment flashing across his face. “I just wanted to be honest with you. I’m here for you, no matter what you need.”

“Can we just take things slow? I don’t want to lose you as a friend,” you replied, relief washing over you as you saw the understanding in his eyes.

“Of course. Friends first, right?” he said, a soft smile returning to his face. “But just know, whenever you’re ready, I’ll be here.”

;;

That night, you talked until the stars filled the sky, sharing dreams, fears, and laughter. For the first time in days, you felt a glimmer of hope. Kenan’s presence made the pain a little more bearable, and you realized just how much he meant to you.

As the weeks passed, Kenan was a constant source of support, helping you navigate the emotional aftermath of your breakup.

He would bring you flowers, surprise you with little gifts, and make you laugh until your stomach hurt. The bond between you deepened, and you started to see him in a new light.

One evening, as you were sitting in your favorite café, sipping hot chocolate, you caught him staring at you with a soft smile. “What?” you asked, a playful grin on your face.

“Just thinking about how lucky I am to have you in my life,” he said, his voice sincere. “I never want to lose this.”

“Me neither,” you replied, feeling your cheeks heat up. “You’ve been amazing, Kenan.”

He leaned closer, his expression serious again. “I meant what I said. I really like you, and I want to be there for you, not just as a friend but as someone who cares deeply.”

You took a deep breath, your heart racing. “I’ve been thinking about it too. Maybe we could give it a try? When I’m ready, I mean.”

A huge smile broke across Kenan’s face, and he nodded eagerly. “Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be right here.”

With that, the two of you finished your drinks, the air between you charged with unspoken possibilities. As you left the café hand in hand, you felt a sense of excitement flutter in your chest.

Maybe this was the beginning of something beautiful..

Days turned into weeks, and your relationship with Kenan blossomed. He made you feel cherished and valued, and you began to realize that the friendship you had once shared had transformed into something more profound and meaningful—the more time you spent together, the more you understood how well you complemented each other.

One night, as you walked through a park, the moonlight casting a gentle glow around you, Kenan stopped to face you. “I know things have been complicated, but I want you to know that you mean everything to me. I’m so glad we took this opportunity.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you smiled up at him. “I feel the same way, Kenan. You’ve helped me heal in ways I didn’t think were possible.”

He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Can I kiss you?”

With a soft nod, you leaned in, feeling his lips brush against yours for the first time. It was sweet, tender, and everything you had hoped for. As you pulled back, your eyes sparkled with joy, and Kenan’s smile mirrored your own.

From that moment on, you knew that your journey from friends to lovers had been worth every step. You had found someone who truly cared for you, and in his arms, you felt safe, loved, and ready to embrace the future together.

[calypsolemon]

I wanna hear about your favorite au you've made, I'm curious!

ack that's really hard to say any particular one is my favorite, though I have ones that I like over others.

Obviously, I've had transcendent au for the longest and probably have the most fondness and nostalgia for it. In short (and it should be said VERY short as this is a long and complicated au), it's an au where the ninja attempt to defy the destiny that has beaten them down for so long, but in the course of doing so they rise to meet it, destroying the world and becoming the gods of a new world in the process. I cannot call this au purely mine alone as it was a collaborative effort between members of my lego server. It's also probably the most messy, containing a lot of immature and underdeveloped thoughts on ninjago as a series, as well as just my emotional state at the time which was "angry abuse victim who just moved out of their childhood home." Over time my thoughts on the events of the au have evolved drastically and thusly the meaning of it has too, which isn't a bad thing. But it does mean its not really as streamlined or coherent as something I'd create now that I'm a bit older.

Oldman Lloyd au is also one of my favorites, and it sort of exists as a response to aspects of transcendent au I find myself now disagreeing with. Essentially, its just my imaging of what Lloyd's life will look like in the far future, where he has been doing the green ninja/ master lloyd/ conduit thing for enough ages that it has all become routine. This one is nowhere near as developed, existing mostly as a set of loosely connected vignettes in my mind. Still, what drives me to it is just the idea of following Lloyd thousands of years into the future, and seeing that he still has a life filled with meaning and friends he cares about even if they aren't the same set of friends he started with, something that I think the fandom is often hesitant to dwell upon.

Splinter-hearted, my adaptation of the classic fairytale "The Snow Queen," was at one time a ninjago au, which you might know if you've been around long enough. It was pretty straightforward, just a version of the Snow Queen where the characters were replaced with ninjago characters, having Nya as Gerda, Kai as Kay and Zane as the titular Snow Queen. However it isn't anymore as I quickly realized the characters were just too different from their ninjago counterparts, and the story wasn't benefiting much from continuing to keep them connected to ninjago. Still, I feel grateful to that early version for giving me the spark that would eventually lead to a more original story.

Finally, and most recently, I've been obsessed with my siren Jay/ With Your Voice au. Since it's the most recent it's not as developed, but I think I've seen very few au's of its nature in the fandom, so I've latched onto it. Essentially, it is an au about Nya struggling to cope with the loss of Jay (who is dead in this version of things), and her spiral into obsessive and self-destructive behavior as she chases a dangerous mythological creature that takes on Jay's likeness (the siren). It's kind of my first attempts at something of a horror story in one of my au's! I'm really excited to keep hashing it out in my mind.

This might just sound like I copped out because I listed so many au's in one post but tbh I actually have come up with many MANY au's for ninjago over the years. Most of them simply haven't been posted about on this blog because they just weren't focused on that long by me, weren't that interesting in the long run, didn't have much going on that would make good art pieces, etc. I still find many of them precious to me but I think these four are the ones I'm holding closest to my heart at this moment. Thank you for asking!

[sosickoflostpassword]

It's pride month! Let's make a list of One Piece characters I head cannon as in the LGBT+ community!

First up is the Captain himself, Luffy

Don't go getting too hot ladies and gents, this bachelor is off the market.

My opinion is that Luffy is Aro/Ace (not that one).

The reality is that unless you are food, friends, or adventure then you probably won't find yourself meaning much of anything to this delightfully joyous fellow.

In short the man has things to do and none of those things include sex or romance.

Top ships: none

Secondary ships: also none

Next up we got the navigator, Nami

This pretty lady capture hearts wherever she goes!

My opinion is that she is Bisexual.

Man or woman you'll have a chance with her... for a price.

Just be sure to protect her and her treasure because she is not interested in the fighting thing. She's a damn queen and very much inclined to act like one.

Top ships: Zoro x Nami

Secondary ships: Sanji x Nami, Vivi x Nami, Wanda x Nami

Now let move on to the ships cook, Sanji!

The man is complicated but hear me out.

It is my opinion that he is bisexual.

He cooks hard and simps harder but perhaps there's something going on underneath. He certainly has a soft side which he shows to women almost exclusively. (Key word is almost my friends)

He certainly likes women but perhaps he's overcompensating for something.

Top ships: Sanji x Nami (it would have been pudding if she was at all older but I digress)

Secondary ships: Sanji x Violette, Sanji x Ace

Speaking of Ace let's look at the little firecracker.

Boy what a looker, and seems to me he thinks similarly about a lot of people because it is my opinion that Ace is ...

Pansexual.

Whether you're sporting feminine, masculin, or neither energy Ace is the guy who's eating it up.

Just get him talking about his brother and he goes all mushy for you. Perhaps it's the genuine connection and interest in each other's lives and feelings that really get him going.

Top ships: Ace x Yamato

Secondary ships: Ace x Sanji, Ace x Vivi

Now let's talk about the top Ace partner for me.

Yamato/Oden

Bro heard the term "dress for the job you want not the job you have" and ran with it.

It is my opinion that Yamato/Oden is pansexual and transgender.

This can be quite the hot topic considering his reason for his transition and how he present himself but for me it is cut and dry. Guy says he's a dude and that's all that I'm gunna care about because let's be honest he is THE DUDE.

Yamato values his strength and values sincerity. He's fun loving and always looking for excitement in life. He found those values presented in his biggest idol, Oden. So it is my opinion that he did not change to be more like Oden but found courage in being himself because he discovered Oden.

Top ships: Ace x Yamato

Secondary ships: none

Who can talk about Trans icons in OP without including Kiku!

Kiku lives her life unashamedly herself. She makes no fuss or muss about it either.

I have no head cannon regarding her sexuality as I got no vibes during my time watching her on screen of one or another but Kiku is, not just by my opinion but canonically, transgender.

Strong, elegant, and thoughtful her path in life did not take away from any of her responsibilities or ther seriousness in which she takes them. One of the ayakaza 9 samurai sworn ro protect Oden and his family. They certainly didn't have any I'll feelings towards her and her identity so why should anyone else.

Top ships: none at this time

Secondary ships: none

Let's dive more into gender identity actually by bringing forth the goat himself. The man. The myth. The legend.

Bonclay.

He is beauty, he is grace, he is missus steal your face.

It is my opinion that Bonclay is gender non conforming!

He goes by he him pronouns but makes no effort to explain nor justify his presentation or mannerisms. No should he! He's perfect the way he is.

I've seen no romantic vibes from Bon Chan as of now but he's too busy being the real MVP of every arc he appears in to have the time it would seem. And that's fine by me.

Top ships: none

Secondary ships: none

It's getting to be quite long so I will cap this off with the top of the top. THE person to go to in the one piece verse regarding gender and sexual identity.

IVANKOV.

He? She? They? It doesn't matter. It's all the same to Ivankov who strikes me as Gender fluid in its purest form.

Believing a person's gender or appearance shouldn't limit them and that every single person should strive for true happiness within themselves regardless if that looks like how they were born or not!

Ivankov has a unique ability to help with that by injecting hormones into those willing (eh sometimes not) to bring about their truer selves.

Ivankov runs the Queendom! A land seemingly dedicated to challenging gender stereotypes with a beautiful scenic background to cap it off.

You're doing the lords work my friend.

Top ships: none

Secondary ships: none

If someone you head cannon in the LGBT+ community isn't on this list that's fine! I'm sure I didn't get them all and there are some that I probably don't head cannon that way. For example it is my opinion that Zoro, Brooke, Robin, and Franky are straight and cis. Jimbei I want to watch more of first and chopper, as a little child bean, doesn't feel right to me to be head cannoning in these ways.

[mbti-notes]

Anon wrote: Hello, I'm INTJ. I have limited social network. At work or family friends etc I come across many people and I do the needful which is required socially. But deep down, I feel very lonely. I crave for certain connection based on interest, authenticity but that doesn't happen easily.

It is very difficult to find someone with interest like mine. I'm very bore person that way. Though, for sake of socializing, I try to learn something about topics of common interests, it keeps me unsatisfied. There are few groups, social media but it cannot replace human connection

Recently, I started reading quotes from poet Rumi and it is giving me some sort of peace im looking for

I just thought to write in here, is this related to personality or any other thing. What can be solution. Thanks in advance!

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

Statistics show that loneliness is a growing epidemic in modern societies. Loneliness can feel like a troubling void inside, and many lonely people fantasize about finding that one special person to fill it. Not only is this a myopic approach to the problem, but to expect one person to fulfill all your social needs is a big burden to place upon their shoulders.

Contrary to popular belief, having similar interests is only one of many possible ways to build a friendship. It's actually not always the most important factor for friendship compatibility, so hyperfocusing on it might be detrimental to your search. Being Ni dom, you are in the minority, so it's understandable to feel out of place or misunderstood. However, keep in mind that a person need not have the exact same interests as you in order to understand you; they only need to be an empathetic person with good social skills.

Loneliness is more complex than finding one special friend. There are many factors that could lead to a person ending up lonely, so you'll have to dig deeper to discover which factors affect you the most. Common factors include:

1) Personal Issues (that usually present as passivity, indifference, ambivalence, laziness): What you basically said is that you expect great relationships to happen while only putting in minimal effort to build them. Would you want to be friends with someone like that, i.e., someone who refuses to invest anything unless they are guaranteed what they want in return? You say you're very lonely and want a better social life, yet your mechanical "dutiful" behavior sends out an unwelcoming vibe. Is it reasonable to expect others to care about you when you can't express any genuine care for them?

The first step of making good friends is learning how to BE a good friend. This could relate to function development in that your expectations aren't realistic (immature Ni) and you haven't yet learned the lesson of "you reap what you sow" (immature Te).

"You reap what you sow" is very fitting when it comes to relationship building (both romantic and platonic). New people are unknown entities. People are complicated and contain multitudes, so you have to spend enough quality time with them in order to learn who they really are and make a sound judgment about long term compatibility. Studies have been done on this and, on average, it takes at least a few months or a couple hundred hours of effort to turn an acquaintance into a good friend.

Too often, people make snap judgments based on a "gut feeling" or the nebulous concept of "chemistry", which leads them to cut off the potential for relationships to grow and develop over time. In most cases, when you're dealing with normal everyday people, the judgment of long term compatibility shouldn't be very easy to make. If you believe it's easy, it could be an indication that you're too superficial or judgmental, which is a form of self-sabotage.

Have you been open and honest with people about wanting more friends? Have you been proactive and assertive in putting out "invitations" to build friendship? Can you honestly say that you've given people enough of a chance? Can you honestly say that you've made every effort to take advantage of opportunities to develop friendships with the people you've known throughout life?

If you've answered "no" to the above, then there's something about you that needs to change. Perhaps there's a blockage inside you. If you're unable to figure out what exactly is preventing you from succeeding in relationships, consider working with a therapist to get to the bottom of it. Willingness to work on oneself is an essential ingredient to getting better at relationships.

2) Poor Social Skills: Some people aren't able to take advantage of friendship opportunities due to not knowing how to socialize. Ideally, people learn to socialize well in childhood and adolescence, but there are many reasons why social development doesn't go as expected. Fortunately, whatever the reason behind poor social skills, it is a solvable problem. Social skills are called "skills" because they can be improved through learning, study, and practice. I have already written about it and recommended books on the resources page.

Introverts tend to sit around waiting for things to happen rather than making things happen. You have to ask yourself how badly you want something. If you want it badly enough, you should have the motivation to do what it takes to get it. "No input, no output" is something healthy Te should understand very well.

Imagine you went to a party, social gathering, or a conference where you only knew a handful of people out of a hundred attendees. What would you do? Most people (and almost all introverts) would stick close to the people they already knew, using the known group to cautiously explore the strangers. Few people would make it their mission to meet each and every new person. Even fewer people could insert themselves into already established social groups and quickly carve out their own space, position, or role. Yet it can be done. Excellent socializers exist and they can make friends everywhere they go, no matter the occasion.

I've known many great socializers and they have certain things in common. Socializing well requires the ability to drum up courage, since you constantly have to face down the possibility of rejection. It requires good conversational skills that allow you to join seamlessly into discussions and express yourself in a way that is both authentic and well-received. It requires resilience and not taking failure personally, so that you can quickly recover and try try again. Most importantly, it requires an attitude of openness, trust, and a willingness to be vulnerable.

Openness means being able to see and take advantage of every good possibility. Great socializers don't put all their eggs in one basket and look for only one person to fulfill all their social needs (which is unreasonable). Rather, they throw open every door in order to get a good look at each person they encounter, which creates a variety of ways to get everyone's social needs met.

Trust means giving people the benefit of the doubt and being relaxed enough to go with the flow. Great socializers don't hold back or try to control social situations (which reveals insecurity). Rather, they really believe in people and try to access the positive aspects in every social situation.

A willingness to be vulnerable means being able to express yourself freely and naturally. Great socializers don't expect people to understand each other right away (which is unrealistic). Rather, they make themselves as approachable and relatable as possible in order to maximize the opportunities for deeper emotional connection. They proactively work to understand and fulfill people's needs in order to encourage reciprocation.

If you find yourself in a pattern of being unable to get past acquaintanceship, then you might need to improve your social skills and nurture the qualities in yourself that make you a more attractive candidate for friendship. It's not about turning yourself into someone you're not but about doing more to enhance and express the positive attributes you already possess, as well as learning how to bring them out in others. Everyone has positive attributes but not everyone knows how to express them and put them to good use. You should be using them to signal to people that you have something meaningful to offer in a friendship.

3) Unfavorable Environment: There is no doubt that some environments are better than others for meeting new friends. For instance, a small town where everyone already knows each other isn't going to present many new opportunities. The workplace isn't always great either, if it's the kind of soulless environment where people only show up to get paid.

When you live in a place without much friendship opportunity, you have to be proactive and either i) create more opportunity or ii) go to where there are more opportunities. For example, if you live in a small town, maybe you need to give people a second or third look to make sure that you haven't misjudged them. Or if you're finding people with similar interests online, the next step would be to meet them in real life, or at least speak rather than just text.

It is very limiting and even small-minded to approach loneliness as merely an individual problem. One reason modern societies suffer more from loneliness is that they've constructed an environment that doesn't foster and even discourages connections between people. For example, living in an individualistic and WEIRD society like the US, people often strive to be independent, live in detached houses, and set up private life to have as little interaction with the public as possible. Then they turn around and wonder why they feel empty or disconnected.

Loneliness can't be completely resolved on the individual level because there are larger factors that influence the trajectory of everyone's lives. When you don't take these larger factors into consideration, whatever solution you find at the individual level is going to feel like a band-aid. People often settle for whatever friendship they can get, but if you really want to shake loneliness for good, you also need a community to belong to. This is what it really means to have a social support network.

Imagine what it would be like if you were in trouble and a whole village of people was willing to come to your aid? This would only be possible if every member of the village took their membership seriously - not just out of "duty" but also out of care. Be a member of something larger than yourself. It means caring about things that don't always directly relate back to you. It means taking responsibility for more than just yourself. It means nurturing a willingness to be of service to more than just your own desires.

Do you know why many soldiers aren't able to reintegrate back into civilian life after going to war? During the war, they were forced to join a very tight-knit community where everyone was responsible for each other's survival. All of their time was spent on service and contribution to a greater goal. Those social bonds were so strong and their sense of purpose was so constantly reinforced that returning to civilian life felt extremely isolating and empty.

The heart of loneliness isn't just about not having close friends, it's equally about not having a strong connection to society. Remedy this by getting more involved in your local community, e.g., through volunteering for organizations that you believe in or joining clubs with interesting activities. No matter where you are, there are always opportunities to get involved as well as worthy causes you could contribute your time and energy to. By making yourself properly useful, you'll be resolving a major cause of loneliness: lack of purpose. What do you believe in? What do you stand for? Instead of this endless search for one special friend, why not make it easier for friends to find you through a meaningful social identity?

[not-goldy]

God I can't really stand JK anymore.

Everything regarding him went a downhill since 2023. The way he behaved changed a lot.. LIKE A LOT now he's way cockier as if no one in the whole world can top him and he doesn't need to listen to anyone giving even good advises, how he used to present himself and looked changed drastically now he looks like a junkie, how he used to perform changed so much now he doesn't half half the energy or stage presence and doesn't give af about making mistake a ton times while before he used to perform with extreme perfection. He's listening to their PR teams too much like where did I go live when I miss fans went ? Now he's listening to their cheap promo tricks. His work ethics is completely opposite from what BTS was.. he's working with payola king of the whole industry and buying success. Releasing a 100 version and a western collab with some B grade pop artist. The songs he releasing are basically shit now when he used to release magic shop, film out, your eyes tell and still with you kind of gems.

The ONLY thing connecting me to him now is Jimin. There's no way to avoid JK when you are a Jimin stan. But i'm WAITING for the day Jimin finally open his eyes and get out of this toxic relationship so I don't want to put up with him anymore.

You see, your problem is that Jungkook is not Jimin. That's your problem. Half way through your comment, I smiled to myself and I thought well this Anon would certainly love Jimin then if these are the qualities they looking for in an idol. only to get to the end of the Ask to find out you actually do like Jimin💀

That complicates things for me.

Where should I even begin

There's nothing wrong with having a preference. There's nothing wrong with having a bias.

I'm not gonna come for your throat on this.

You prefer Jimin's work ethics and prefer how seriously he takes his public relations, how he puts on effort and that's alright.

BUT YOU DON'T HAVE TO HATE JUNGKOOK just because he's not YOUR PREFERENCE.

If you keep that up you and I gon have a problem.

Do I think Jungkook can take a page or two out of the Jimin idol manual? Sure.

As much as I looove seeing Jungkook live his life on his own terms not giving a fuck what anyone cares- some times, in certain areas I do think he could use that self regulation.

Yet on the other hand, I don't find Jimin's over regulation appealing either. I've ever said his kumbaya persona, caring too much what others think, trying to be perfect, self regulated, evolved, controlling his words, his attention, being overly polite, smiling when he should be cussing people out all in the name of his consciousness of the fact he is an idol really REALLY FRUSTRATES ME.

Jimin struggles with this. The never mind tattoos, the song lyrics yearning for freedom, set me free- where do you think that comes from?

I don't know how we can call ourselves stans and not sense some of these things: the members constantly telling him not to care what people would think, to do whatever he wants,- even Jungkook openly reminding him HE IS AN ADULT and shouldn't care about certain things.

Jungkook is good for Jimin and Jimin is good for Jungkook.

Jimin is the leash and restrain Jungkook needs and Jungkook is the freedom Jimin craves.

Please don't come for jikook I'll paint you and it ain't going to be pretty.

Also remember, this is a human being you are talking about. He is not an alien. He is human just like you. That vitriol and animosity towards him is so not necessary.

I can't help you unhate him.

But please, be a good human.

He is a relatively young man navigating overwhelming situations. I personally think going solo has taught him so much and there is much more he'd learn along the way.

And please, it's slander to say he half ass his performance- have you seen his tiktok? THE THIBGS HE CAN DO WITH HIS WAIST- MY GOD!

Oh and did you see Tae's smoke challenge? I may or may not be addicted to the part he wines his waist- lolay lolay lolay

Sorry I had to go and watch that clip again.

Liste, the point I'm making here is, It's his journey and his choice to decide the type of idol he wants to be. You may like it or you may not. That's a you problem. However he's responsible for his own reputation and his own success in the industry and I think he is still learning to hone his values and filter his choices through those values.

Give that man a break .

AND FREE JUNGKOOK.

Peace out