#even if it's just out of ignorance it's not good because he has the tools to learn

[livetogether--diealone]

Maybe charles will only change when he is in his 30s like seb and lewis did lol

He can also start now though! No age limit for it

[softestbabydoll]

thinking about constructionworker!toji who's at your house, working on renovations for the first story flooring since he’s gotten hired by your father. though he had little to no knowledge about how to actually build anything, the money was good so he took the opportunity.

you're woken up by the sound of a drill and hammers banging nails into the walls. groggily, you raise yourself to sit up in your bed, rubbing your sore, puffy eyes as the piercing sound of tools makes your ears ring loudly from all of the noise. why the hell would they come so early to work on the house?

slamming your head back against your pillow, you pick your other pillow up and press it against your ear, trying to drown out some of the noise coming from downstairs, but it's no use.

instead, you roll of bed and slip on your silk robe, wearing nothing beneath it. you’re gonna give whoever’s making all the noise a piece of your mind. walking out of your bedroom and up to the railing of your upstairs balcony, you see a team of men in yellow hats and orange vest doing random handiwork as you look down. you spot the one black haired man placing wood tiles onto the floor, and doing a horrifc job at it—toji.

"do any of you know what time it is???" you yell over the noise of the men working, your voice is barely audible over the noise but some of them turn their heads toward you at the sound of your voice before turning their attention back to their work. toji lifts his head to see you standing above him, your arms folded across your chest with a scowl on your face. your disapproval is obvious which makes him chuckle.

"i can't hear you!" he yells back at you, waving you to come downstairs. "maybe you should come down here so we can talk!" you roll your eyes and sigh at his request, walking to the staircase to step onto the first stair as you descend down. you approach toji as you stand there above him, looking down at him as he raises his head, the corner of his scared lips curling up into a smirk as his green eyes meet your piercing stare.

"why so cold, little lady? i'm just doin' my job." he says, looking back down at the wooden tiles as he places them on the floor. it's not like you knew the first thing about construction, but you could tell his technique would definitely cause more issues with the floor than it already has. "8:00 o'clock in the morning is a perfect time to come over and do construction.” you barked, your voice dripping with sarcasm as you look down at your imaginary watch on your bare wrist.

toji stands up from his haunches, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow with a gloved hand as if he's actually done anything worth sweating over. he places his hand on his hip as he looks over at you, his towering height looms over you which makes the scowl you have on your face even cuter. "your dad's out so i assumed the house was empty, let me apologize for waking you up." his voice is genuine, but you don’t catch it because you’re eyeing him up and down.

he's clad in a white thank top, speckled by dust and dirt from hours spent working on the floor. his tools hung from a worn, brown belt strap slung low around his beige work pants. maybe toji stood out to you the most because he's the only one half dressed for construction—not that you were complaining.

each time he raised his tank to wipe his face, the sharp cut of his abs and the trail of dark hair leading below his waistband became impossible to ignore. your eyes shamefully locked into the utter perfection he didn't bother hiding.

"w-well you see that i'm still here..." you whisper, your eyes glued to toji's frame as he tugs his tank back down, muscles rippling through the fabric. he runs a hand through his slick hair, his sharp eye catching the way you're eyeing him.

"you're staring." he says, his voice low and edged with amusement.

his voice breaks you out of your trance, and your eyes snap back to his face. heat crawls up your neck as you realize your expression had softened while you were ogling at the man's chest, so you scowl at him again. "whatever," you snap, quickly looking off to the side.

toji pivots on his heel to stand in your line of sight, forcing you to crane your head up at him to meet his gaze. his broad frame towers over you, casting a shadow over your face, and you swear his smirk grew wider as your breath catches in your throat.

"are you going to straighten up," he murmurs, his voice dropping, “or do i need to fuck that attitude out of you?"

before you know it, you're bent over on your bathroom countertop, legs trembling as your cunt gushes around toji's cock, slick dripping out in thick strings down your thighs. toji's hips snap against your ass with brutal precision, each trust feels like his dick is pushing into your stomach. "look at you," he growls, his voice dripping with mockery as he roughly cups your face with a large hand as he grips your slack jaw, forcing you to look up into the bathroom mirror at your face "all it takes is a good fuckin' to shut that dumbass mouth of yours, huh?"

your vision blurs as you keep staring at yourself—your hair sprawled out over your head, tears streaking your flushed cheeks and your nose red from crying—your lips are parted, trembling from the endless stream of broken moans and breathless gasps. toji leans in, his scared lips brushing the shell of your ear as his free hand slides up your belly and grabs your tits, rolling your nipple between his calloused fingers. "c'monnn, keep watchin', he sneers, his voice low and taunting. "see what you look like getting your slutty little pussy stretched out."

the guttural slap of skin fills the room, being drowned out by the muffled noises of the workers outside. the very sound you were cursing earlier now served as a shield for your shame, you thanked whatever force or luck was keeping the men oblivious—to the fact you're being fucked silly by a stranger in your own house before you even got a chance to eat breakfast, and toji's absence. though it's not enough to conceal the shameful squelch of your pussy taking him in so deep. you bite down on your lip, trying to stifle the soft whimpers spilling from your throat, but toji doesn't let up.

his fingers curl into the plush of your hips, his nails digging deeply into your skin, dragging you back to meet his trust. the tip of his cock kissing your sensitive and bruised cervix that has your legs shaking uncontrollably.

"you're so fuckin' tight," he groans, his eyes glued to the sight of his cock disappearing into you as your entrance flutters around his thick shaft. "shit, you're squeezin' me like you're beggin' me to fill you up." he lets out a low laugh, teeth scraping against the side of your neck before biting down hard enough to leave a mark. the sting makes you cry out, your walls clamping down on him like a vice. "oh, you like that, huh? filthy little thing—this the kinda shit you've been waitin' for?"

you can barely breathe, your vision blurring as tears keep spilling over. the pressure builds unbearably fast, heat pooling low in your stomach. "i-i…fuck, i can't," you gasp, shaking your head as the intensity of toji’s fast thrust overwhelm you.

"you can, and you will," toji growls, his hand snaking down to your clit, rough fingers circling the sensitive nub with just enough pressure to send you hurtling toward the edge. "ain't lettin' you off that easy."

your knees buckle, but he keeps you upright, his cock drilling into you mercilessly as you fall apart around him. the lewd squelch of your release gushes around his length, soaking his thighs and the counter beneath you. "shit, look at this mess," he mutters, gripping your ass with one hand to spread you open, his thrusts growing sloppier as he chases his own high.

"since your squirtin' on my dick—fuckkkk...—maybe your daddy doesn't have to pay me. he'd be horrified enough to know his daughter's got off on my dick." toji goans deeply into your ear as your pussy squirts out the rest of your cum, your slick coating his shaft as it bubbles in a ring around the base of his cock. your head dips to the side before toji roughly grabs your jaw again.

"keep that fuckin' pretty mouth open," he snarls, tilting your head toward the mirror again. "gonna make you watch when I fill this pussy up. that's what you want, isn't it? my cock buried so deep you feel me for days?"

you let out a loud, helpless whimper at the mere mention of toji cumming...inside of you? you'd really be carrying a stranger's baby without an ounce of shame, and the idea of him filling you up right now doesn't sound to bad, especially when his cock is spitting you open so good, fucking you so deep and hard you can hardly form a coherent sentence.

"talk to me, girl." toji growls, his voice sharp and commanding as his trust grow more punishing. the heavy slap of his swollen balls against your soaked pussy echo in the room, their weight tightening as his cock twitches inside of you.

"y-yesss, daddy—aaahh—fuck, i-i want your seed...!" your trembling words slip through your mouth. toji groans out as he feels your walls clamping down onto him tighter and tighter, milking him harder as he struggles to hold himself back.

toji's hand comes down hard on your ass, slapping the fat of your cheeks as he grips your ass, spreading you open wider so you can take him even deeper. "mmm, that's what i wanna hear." his pace turns sloppier than before, each pump of his dick pulls another nasty squelch from your soaked cunt. "gonna pump ya so full my cums' gonna be dripping outta ya for days."

your head lolls forward, lips parted in a daze. but toji's grip doesn't let up, you feel him wrapping both of his strong arms around your waist to keep you in place, fucking your vaccum of a pussy in long, drawn out strokes as he cums deeply inside of you. your walls clamp down on him violently, spasming around his pulsing cock, milking every last drop of his cum. he stays buried inside, groaning as his cock twitches, warmth spilling deep into your womb.

"shit, you're squeezing me dry." he groans, his cock pulsating violently inside of you as your body jolts in his arms. you can feel each squirt of his seed spilling out from his fat tip, his heavy chest vibrates against you as his lets out another throaty groan. "bet this load's gonna be leaking out of you for hours, isn't it?" you give him a shy nod, your head barely moving against his chest, your body too spent to do anything else.

he smirks, feeling the slight motion. one of his hands snakes down to your ass as he kneads it possessively. toji presses his nose against your hair, inhaling your sweet scent deeply as his cock gives you another lazy throb inside of your sensitive slit. "greedy little thing," he groans as he slowly pulls out, a lewd squelch fills the room as his thick cum begins to leak out of your tiny hole.

his hand gives your ass a sharp slap, making you wince as you pussy tightens from the sudden movement, pushing more of toji's cum out as it drips down your thighs. "now go take a shower," he demands, pulling his pants back up without cleaning your juices off of his dick.

[sangrefae]

kissing this addition directly on the mouth (platonically) bc it really highlights every issue i have w kbms as it is in the general fandom sphere

ngl it's kind of sad when people say "can't wait for mithrun to show up in the anime and people realize the SUPERIOR kabru ship" as if that's the most important draw of his character and not the incredible portrayal of disability/addiction through his arc like. please

[beloveds-embrace]

Thinking about designationless reader...

Imagine how alone she must've been for all her life. It started since she was young, her parents pushing her to the corner of the home, away from the family, and naturally, her siblings would follow their parents' lead, pointedly ignoring her, and finding any excuse available to be out of her presence. She wouldn't understand them anyway, she can't tell the difference between noises nor could she even recognize scents. It just wouldn't work.

Reader thinks that maybe she could find someone, anyone in school, but kids are like sharks, except instead of smelling blood, they smell the lack of all scents on her. Most kids have a combination of their own and their family members' scents. Reader has nothing, so everyone continues the pattern, but now with more stares and jeers and hushed giggles. Reader knows that bullying is bad, but anything would be better than simply not existing to anyone. That's what the others say, at least, that she's nothing, nobody. Never to her face, though, just in the whispers shared between friends.

She eventually tries to find others like her through the wonders of the internet. There's maybe a handful more scattered in her country, but none are her age, and all have their own families who care about them. Was it just her who wasn't deserving of love, of connection? Reader reaches out to them, and they talk a little, but before long, through no one's fault, it falls through. She was bad at talking anyway, even if she doesn't have to worry about scents or sounds that aren't there, she never knew much about context or connotation. She never had the opportunity to learn about the intricacies in communication. Reader is back alone.

The military eventually scouts her, and it's the first time anyone has ever really looked at her. Sure, they look at her like a valuable tool, but a tool is better than nothing. Reader obviously joins, desperate for crumbs. She climbs the ranks, gets the job done. She is good at her job, so people respect her. She learns how to talk professionally, emails, texts, and so one, but no one talks to her on leave. No one invites her to the pub after a good mission. No one even talks to her in the mess. But people do talk to her when they have to, and that's enough. Maybe she even gets a callsign. Doe. After Jane Doe, the placeholder name for unknown individuals, and insult if anything.

Now there's the 141. They invite her to things. They talk to her. They touch her. Reader exists for them. She isn't just an unknown person stuck in the background and invisible to everyone else, and Reader doesn't know what to do. Her speech is awkward and overly professional, even in personal settings. How is she supposed to be friends with someone, multiple someones? How is she supposed to move? To act? To express? She doesn't know, but she really wants to learn. At least now she has good teachers.

ANON YOU GENIUSSSS okay but this? Perfect. AHHHH I ADORE THIS IDEA!! Esp the jane doe callsign omg yes

You weren’t used to being seen.

Growing up, you learned quickly how to make yourself small- how to exist quietly, without taking up space, without asking for too much. Because the few times you had asked- asked for a hug, asked to be let into the nest, asked why you felt so different- the answers had all been the same.

No.

Not now.

Not you.

It wasn’t that your parents didn’t love you. You were sure they did, in their own way. But love was hard to feel when your mother flinched at your touch like you were something disgusting, when your father sighed like he was tired every time you entered the room as if you were taking up space he was saving for his other children. When your siblings built their nests without you, curling into piles of warmth and safety while you sat outside the door, knees pulled to your chest and hands balled into fists to keep them from knocking, a cold ache burrowing itself in your chest.

You stopped knocking eventually.

You stopped trying.

You used to wonder if you’d done something wrong- if maybe you could fix yourself and everything would go back to normal. But it wasn’t something you could fix. It was just… you.

Scentless.

Designationless.

Invisible.

School had been worse, perhaps the worst. At least your family had pretended not to notice how different you were. The other kids didn’t bother pretending. They stared openly, whispered behind your back, laughed when you walked by. You’d caught bits and pieces of what they said- weird, wrong, broken, as if they hoped by having you hear their words, they’d convince you to leave at last.

You’d started keeping your head down after that, slipping through the halls like a shadow. No one talked to you unless they had to, and even then they either did it with a mocking, jeering tone that echoes in your nightmares or with a meek tone; as if your lack of everything is contagious. No one sat next to you at lunch, either. When partners were assigned, you always ended up working alone per your teachers’ instructions.

It was easier that way.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

By the time you joined the military, you’d gotten good at being alone. You didn’t need friends. Didn’t need packmates. You had work, and work didn’t care if you were quiet or awkward or too stiff to laugh at the right jokes. Work didn’t care if you flinched when people got too close or froze when someone raised their voice. Work demanded to be done, and you had nothing and no one to stop you from that.

But the military also has the same teens who used to bully you so consistently. Rookies all to ready and happy to lord over you. It’s how you get your despised callsign, Doe. Jane Doe. A cruel mockery, comedy wherein you are the joke that has the world laughing.

Still, you wear it. It’s still an acknowledgment and that will always be better than never being seen. You flit from team to team, unit to unit, always an observer from afar, watching everyone around you speak a language you can’t.

But the 141 was different, when you eventually end up working for them.

They cared.

They cared in ways you weren’t ready for.

Soap was relentless, dragging you into conversations even when you barely knew what to say. He filled the silences like it didn’t bother him, kept talking for the both of you, lounging against you unbothered, until you started talking back. Gaz was gentlest, steadier. He never pushed, just lingered close enough to remind you he was there, waiting, whenever you were ready. Quiet, silent acceptance you’d never been given before, and you were yet far too afraid to so easily cling to it.

And the Alphas- Price and Ghost- were worse.

Price had a way of looking at you that made your chest ache, like he saw you, really saw you, and didn’t mind what he found. Scentless, with no designation and all. Ghost was quieter, sharper, but his eyes tracked you everywhere, presence wrapping around you like he was staking a claim you didn’t understand, like he was teying to etch every part of you behind his eyelids.

You didn’t know what to do with it.

They didn’t give you space. They sat next to you at meals, tugged you along when they went out for drinks, called you over during breaks like it was the most natural thing in the world. And it felt natural- until it didn’t, because sometimes you still felt like an outsider.

Like you didn’t belong.

You tried to hide it, but they saw through you. They always did, and they never shied away.

When you started avoiding the mess hall, it was Gaz who caught you, shoving a plate of food into your hands and dragging you to sit with him like it wasn’t a big deal. When you hung back during missions, letting the others fall into their pack dynamics without you, Soap was the one who looped an arm around your shoulders and pulled.

And when you flinched, once, at the sharp sound of someone’s voice echoing down the hall- when you tensed so hard it made your fingers tremble- it was Price who closed the distance, standing in front of you like a wall and letting Ghost linger at your back. Neither of them said a word.

They didn’t have to.

You weren’t used to being protected. You weren’t used to belonging.

But they made it hard not to.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Platonic yandere shigaraki HCS with a younger sister who's the daughter of AFO? (Since he's readers adopted older brother since AFO adopted shigaraki)

Yandere Older Brother Shigaraki Tomura

“This is the little sibling I was telling you about. Would you like to hold them?”

“But my quirk–!”

“Not this time. Trust me.”

It was hard not to pull his cradled arms away when AFO unswaddled and slowly lowered the baby down

Visions of his past 

His quirk’s awakening flashed violent through his mind 

Tightly shutting his eyes in fear 

he feels the warmth and substantial weight in his arms

Opening his eyes to see a darling little baby cooing at him

Giving a gummy smile when he lets out a little chuckle in disbelief

“This is (Y/n). You’re little sibling.”

“My little-?”

“Yes. Will you protect them?

“YES!”

From then on it was history

It’s been him and his newfound family against the world 

Even with his old notfamily he wasn’t the oldest

And now you’re immune to his power letting him connect with you in a way he just can’t with others

All that being said he’s a doting big brother

“(Y/n). Are you giving the nanny trouble?”

“Psh! It was only a mud pie!”

“Really? That doesn’t sound so bad.” 

“They threw it in my face!!”

“It was meant for the pillow! Honest!”

“If (Y/n) said it was meant for the pillow then it was meant for the pillow I see no problem here.”

Because AFO is AFO the way you’re raised will really dictate how he watches over you

If he’s not the only one doting on you but your father dearest as well you can expect to always be miles away from the action

Kept in the boonies or shipped across the world

If AFO demands it you will see no such thing as a world he doesn’t create

But if you’re just another tool of his then you both will start to get competitive

“Awww heard about the little incident in Kamino! Heard you couldn’t get the job done!” “And I heard about your little excursion with the American division.”

“Pft! it was more so just a distraction.”

“Oh yeah? Is your enemy weakened and out of the game for good?”

“Grrrr.”

“That’s what I thought little Padawan!”

“Grrr shut up!”

If AFO completely ignores you and keeps you only because Tomura wants it 

Or because you have too many features like your late uncle

He’s dealing with a rebellious little sibling that he’s intent on tracking down

Whether you’ve decided to side with the heroes or strike out on your own

He will make it everyone’s problem that you’re not in his custody

“You seem to forget (Y/n) that as your older brother, I’m going to protect you…whether you like it or not.”

In whichever universe you are the apple of his eye

And he refuses to let you leave it

Whatever plan AFO has for him can wait if it doesn’t mean you safely within his grasp

[opennwindows]

May I request a smoll eyeless jack x f reader nsfw story? Or headcanons?

eyeless jack x fem reader NSFW hcs

cw: 18+ content, medical kink, breeding kink, biting, blood, kinda disrespecting boundaries?? kinda not??, afab fem aligned reader

a/n: hey let’s all ignore my wildly different formatting for each post until i figure out wtf i’m doing lmfao. i decided to do hcs for this since i enjoy rambling and i have a couple fics already lined up and those take significantly longer for me to write!! i hope that’s okay anon, i just want to get more stuff posted :) also i threw a bunch of random ideas together for this so if you’d like anything else more specific please req again!

sooo we all know eyeless jack is a demon, right? to say dude is into some freaky shit would be an understatement.

- jack has a higher sex drive than most due to his demon tendencies. pair that with the rush he gets after a good evening of organ harvesting and you’re in for a Very Long Night. his stamina is also no joke.

- wear a short skirt? it’s getting cut off with his scalpel. accidentally slice your finger while chopping vegetables? well you better turn off the stove because he’s bending you over it. he senses you’re ovulating? he’s fucking you twice as much.

- if you’re into medical play and getting cut up with surgery tools he will be over the moon.

- if not, you’re gonna have to have a sit down talk with jack. he will do his best, but he can end up viewing you as just a lowly human at times. you’re gonna have to put your foot down sternly to fully gain his respect. he cares about your boundaries (somewhat), it just takes a minute to get through to his human side.

- on that note, don’t even dream of dominating him. he’ll laugh in your face and restrain you if the idea even crosses your mind. the thought of a weaker being telling him what to do during sex is comical to jack. he might let you ride him if he’s feeling lazy, but his clawed hands will be gripped around your waist as a silent reminder of who’s in charge.

- he’s into degradation. not the typical “you’re a whore” shit. no, this guy will take every chance to remind you that you’re just a fragile little human that’s only breathing because he lets you. if you feed into his ego, jack will reward you with his face between your thighs for hours.

- ooh let me take a moment to talk about this monster’s tongue. godly is an ironic term to describe anything involving jack but it’s the only fitting word. it’s long, slightly textured, quick and strong. he looooves to edge you until you inevitably break and the only words you can form are broken pleas. you’re gonna have to pry him off of you during your periods. he’s a little nasty

- jack will pretty much refuse to cum anywhere that isn’t inside you or your mouth. during sex, he tends to fully give into his animalistic demon qualities. meaning the only thing running through his mind is ‘breed, breed, breed.’

- big corruption kink. like MASSIVE. i think all the pastas have some form of corruption kink, but obviously the whole demon thing brings it to a new level. if you were a virgin when you met him, he’s gonna have to physically restrain himself from pouncing on you the second its brought up in conversation.

- let’s talk about positions. jack’s not really picky as long as he’s fucking your brains out but he does have a few favorites. mating press is almost always a winner since it feeds into his need to breed (i crack myself up). missionary is a classic that ensures he can have complete control. jack is also a fan of fucking on operating tables???? don’t ask me ask him, he’s odd. his least favorites involve 69, cowgirl, or pretty much anything that involves you on top of him. he doesn’t really get tired so doing all the work doesn’t bother him.

- will 100% spit in your mouth and he doesn’t care if you think it’s gross. get used to it sorry. if you’re into it then you’ve won.

- probably will throw a tantrum if he finds out you masturbated without him. he’s given you so much special attention and you still want more? well. he’s gonna fuck you so hard that you’ll be too sore to even think about touching yourself. i’m praying for you girl good luck.

- LOVES TO BITE ON YOUR CHEST AND NECK. i cannot stress this enough. and he WILL draw blood, i mean his mouth is full of sharp teeth so it’s basically a given. bro will be fucking you and straight up take a drink break FROM YOUR THROAT. be prepared to never show your neck or cleavage in public ever again. unless you’re into that. then you go girl, we’re all cheering for you.

- jack thinks it’s hilarious to say terrifying unsexy shit during sex. “i can’t wait to cut you open and eat those delicious kidneys that belong to me….” you just look at him with your mouth open. you’d be better off ignoring his annoying ass he (probably) doesn’t mean it.

[hugevanserrass]

reasons to hate cassian

Cassian saw that Azriel was romantically interested in Mor, felt jealous over it, and agreed to have sex with her knowing it would hurt Azriel.

The first time he meets Nesta, he immediately passes judgement on her for letting Feyre hunt as a child, despite the fact that she was a child herself.

Tells her he doesn't understand why her sisters love her

Bonds with feyre over their shared experiences living in poverty but treats nesta like she's a stuck up rich girl, despite her living in the same mf hovel as feyre (why does he do this ??)

He gropes her in her own home despite her not wanting him to touch her.

He sees her on the verge of tears due to anger and despair when the human queens won't send aid to the humans in Prythian, and then a scene later says "She barely seems to care about anyone other than Elain."

Will not take no for an answer when Nesta tells him to leave her alone.

When they are both clearly feeling something for each other, he still rips his hand out of Nesta's when Mor walks in. Wtf was this about anyways?

He buys Mor lingerie despite knowing Nesta is his mate. This is just weird in general. Also calls Mor his sister, despite having slept with her in the past.

Judges Nesta for not getting over her trauma in a way that is both quick and convenient to him and the inner circle.

Admits to ignoring her claim that she is enjoying the music while he drags her, against her will, out of a "seedy" tavern.

Supports Feyre and Rhys in their decision to forcibly remove Nesta from her home and relocate her to the House of Wind, on threat of deportation.

Drags her to Windhaven to "train" even when she makes it clear she has no intention of training. As a result, she is forced to sit on a rock in freezing cold temperatures.

When Mor basically tells Nesta she is just like her evil father and the rest of the Court of Nightmares because she is mean to Cassian, Cassian does not defend Nesta nor call Mor out on it.

He brings up Nesta's dead father at breakfast because she won't eat her oatmeal.

He tells her everyone hates her.

He watches her fall down a very steep flight of stairs, and then laughs at her. She was bruised and had a black eye from this fall. Cassian thinks this is funny.

Whines constantly about being a bastard nobody despite Nesta only using "bastard" as a direct insult to him one time, and in that same convo he called her a haughty witch.

He is rude to Lucien for no reason. (unforgivable)

Despite knowing Nesta is vulnerable, he fucks her at the first opportunity, even though he knows she uses sex as a coping mechanism.

Snarls and bitches at Nesta when she talks about Rhysand in a tone he doesn't like, even after telling her he can match whatever she throws at him. (He can't)

Sides with Rhysand over her constantly, even when he is in the wrong.

Every time they do engage in some sexual act, he immediately bolts, leaving her alone and confused. Refuses to communicate his feelings, acts like an asshole.

Keeps secrets from her, and agrees to participate in a vote on whether or not she deservers to know about the swords she created, which directly pertains to her powers. He whines a little, but ultimately does what he is told.

When she voices her fear that she is not good enough for him and will never deserve him, he does not correct her.

When he learns of Nesta’s love for dance and how her mother twisted it into a tool to find her a prince, Cassian turns himself into the victim. (this takes skill tbh)

He interrupts the only true canon Neris moment to shove in and dance with Nesta. Will not forgive him for this. Get off the dance floor.

When they finally admit their feelings on solstice and have a passionate and meaningful night together, he STILL leaves immediately the next morning to go hang with his homies and doesn't see her for a week. She is left alone AGAIN. (Begging him to stop doing this.)

When Nesta has finally had enough of being judged by the inner circle, she decides to tell Feyre the truth about her pregnancy. Cassian is furious with Nesta, takes no responsibility for lying to Feyre, and does not react in the slightest when Rhysand threatens to KILL Nesta. (His mate)

When Feyre tells him that she is angry with all of them and not Nesta, he does not tell Nesta, even though it would be comforting to her while she is at her absolute lowest.

When Feyre tells him Rhys is secretly happy Nesta is going to hate every second of the hike, he has a nice little laugh with Feyre at Nesta's expense.

He makes her endure a back-breaking death march in which she is forced to carry an extremely heavy backpack as punishment.

He sees that Nesta doesn't care if she dies, and does nothing to get her away from the steep cliffs. He snaps at her the entire time, even while she is clearly spiraling and about to have a mental breakdown.

She collapses at the end of each day and all he says is "at least remove the pack so I can cook myself dinner." She has not spoken in days.

He works her to the point of passing out. She literally faints, face first, onto the hard ground and he yells at her for not drinking water instead of trying to determine if she's alright.

When she finally breaks down and cries and tells him how much she hates herself, he tells her how much he loves Rhysand as an attempt to relate to her suffering. (fuck you dude seriously)

He does not correct her when she says she is unworthy of love.

He says "there is nothing broken to fix" despite forcing her to obey him and change her coping mechanisms and behave in the way he approves.

When she tells him the word mate doesn’t mean anything to her because she’s human at heart he dismisses her instantly and says "that's bullshit." No attempt to understand her feelings whatsoever as he tries to force her to admit they are mates before she is ready.

Tells her he didn't ask to be "shackled" to her after she says she didn’t get to choose to be fae, and it was forced on her. (it was)

When she calls in the bargain he immediately thinks of a way to get around it. He does not respect the boundaries she sets for herself. He thinks something like "Easy enough command to work around. I'll tell her to word her bargains more cleverly." She says she wants a week alone and the very next day he shows up to Windhaven in order to force her to speak to him.

When he learns she has been taken into the blood rite, after a lot of sulking and one feeble attempt to disobey Rhys, he thinks something like "even if I could rescue her I wouldn't, I wouldn't take away her opportunity to save herself." Meanwhile Nesta is hoping that he will be coming to rescue her.

When Nesta finally saves him, and tells him she loves him, he does not say it back. HE NEVER SAYS I LOVE YOU.

He calls Eris a coward immediately after learning he was tortured by his father, and likely has been his whole life. In the same thought, he acknowledges that Eris was willing to be tortured to protect their alliance and STILL calls him a coward.

When Rhysand is yelling at Nesta AGAIN for helping Bryce save the entire world, Cassian does not stick up for her. AGAIN! (I stg you bitch)

Amren says to Nesta, in front of Cassian, "Pray to the mother that your sister changes Rhysand's mind tonight" ABOUT WHAT? IS HE GONNA KILL HER? And Cassian does...nothing.

"Nesta's mate shifted an inch closer to her, his eyes darting between the two of them, torn. Like he didn't know who to side with in the brewing fight." I hate him so much for this !!!!

Nesta tells Ember that Cassian is "the most furious with me of anyone" WHY? Nesta even voices that she doesn't think they'll kill her. This implies Rhys has yet again threatened her life because he disagrees with her choices, and guess what: CASSIAN DOES NOTHING.

[revelboo]

Me at your post:

Question. Have you ever thought about writing for the Constructicons? (Not with Prowl though). I think it would be hilarious.

Rewatched their G1 episodes today. Title is the song ‘Drive’ by The Matches. An attempt was made

Drive

Constructicons x Reader

• “I’m just saying. A little appreciation.” Exchanging a look with Long Haul, Scavenger tries to ignore Hook’s grumbling as they work. Pushing against a tree until the wood splinters and breaks so he can shove it over and drag it out of the way. Pausing to tip his head up at the night sky and wonder where home is. “We’re out here busting our afts and do we get any thanks?” Hook demands. No. What they’d gotten was their energon rations cut because in the Decepticon hierarchy, they’re not much higher than Insecticons. He doesn’t like it, but understands. Being forged here on this miserable mudball not Cybertron means being looked down upon. And he has no idea where Cybertron is among those glittering stars. Can it be home when he’s never set ped there?

• “We do our job. A fragging good job,” Scrapper says, trying to keep the peace as Bonecrusher utters a harsh laugh and Mixmaster just shakes his head at him. Like he doesn’t see the scorn. Knows the others think he’s oblivious, but he’s knows they’re looked down on until they’re needed. Devastator demands their respect, but on their own? They’re second class citizens. If even that. Some of the other Decepticons are all too happy to sneer at them, to assume that since they didn’t come from Cybertron they’re less.

• Bending to gouge up a handful of soil and to intake through his vents, separating out the individual components in his head, Mixmaster growls. Scenting those trace amounts of energon that are the whole reason they’re out here in the middle of nowhere. “No one wants to hear that, though,” Mixmaster mutters. “They want us to work and keep quiet. It’s here.” Glancing at his brother when Bonecrusher bumps him. “They’re scared of us,” Bonecrusher growls, beginning to aggressively clear the land of trees, movements sloppy and giving away that he’s been into the high grade. But they all know it’s Devastator that’s feared, not them. They’re tools. Nothing more. Disrespected and mocked by the rest of the Decepticons. Something they all feel and that gets compounded when they’re combined. That dissatisfaction growing every time they combine, spreading and feeding on itself when they separate again. Reaching a boiling point with no outlet to let off some steam. Except to destroy something. And there’s nothing here but trees.

• Exhausted and not even tempted by the hot, greasy smell of fast food in the bag in the passenger seat, you go over the list in your head again. Trying to remember if you’ve gotten at least a little something for everyone. That you’re ready for the upcoming holiday. You’d volunteered to work the day before for the extra cash, but you keep wondering if you’re forgetting something. Distracted you almost miss the huge, dark shape that comes sailing out of the woods. Slamming a foot on the brake as your car slides with a scream of tires, a tree slams into the road ahead of you and goes end over end in a shower of pine needles and broken branches. What? Toggling your emergency lights on, you put the car into park and get out, wincing at the biting cold. And your breath catches as it sinks in that a tree chucked like a javelin even though there’s no wind, no plausible explanation, nearly took you out. Squinting into the dark woods, your skin prickles as a red glow flares in the shadows. Then five more.

• Hears Bonecrusher laugh and Long Haul turns to follow his stare. Sees the tiny shape through the trees silhouetted by the headlights of the car behind them. There’s no way the little human can see anything more than the glow of their optics. But there’s a whisper of excitement twisting through him as Scrapper says, “Bottle of engex to whoever squishes it before it ruins everything.”

• Heart in your throat as those red glows shift and a branch cracks, there’s a roar from the trees that crackles through you and you forget the car. Forget everything beyond the animal need to get away. Running as trees crack and get uprooted with thunderous noise behind you to send you racing across the road and into the woods on the other side in a blind panic. Don’t even know what’s chasing you, only that you don’t want to find out. Is this what a rabbit feels like with hungry foxes snapping at its heels?

• Heavy peds tearing up dirt and leaves as he tries to overtake Hook, Scavenger hears Mixmaster calling out to the organic. Laughingly saying they only want to play. You’re surprisingly fast for being so small, but even noisier than Bonecrusher somehow. Energon pumping through his lines as you break from the trees, just a little shadow silvered by the moon, almost unreal looking as you pelt through the tall grass. Catches a glimpse of terrified eyes when you glance back and then you go down, disappearing completely.

• “Where’d it go?” Hook growls, reaching to push Scavenger out of his way as the rest of his brothers catch up and he realizes there’s a sheet drop, the ground giving way so suddenly you hadn’t seen it in time to react. Leaning down to look at the still form lying in the shallow stream at the bottom, there’s a momentary flicker of disappointment. Because chasing you had made him feel more alive than he’d felt in a long time. The hunt a high almost as sweet as combining.

• Lingering at the edge of the ravine, spark pulsing still with the excitement of your fear, Scrapper’s aware of Mixmaster and Bonecrusher shoving at each other. Of Long Haul and Scavenger both still staring down at their quarry. Turning away to order them back to work, he hesitates as Scavenger bumps his arm with a fist. “It’s still alive.” And he hears the low, pained sound from the little human. “Pretty fun to chase,” Long Haul adds, shooting him a look. Primus, are they wanting to keep you? Like a pet? All five of his brothers are staring at him now. Waiting for his decision. And groaning in defeat, he gestures at the drop. “Fine, but I’m not cleaning up after it.” Because you’re a distraction, something to keep them from dwelling on how unhappy they all are.

Next

[running-on-coffee-and-anxiety]

Know what? I'm gonna try throwing my hat into the ring for Danny Phantom.

I accidentally electrocuted myself as a kid and never told anybody- nothing serious, I grabbed the three exposed prongs of a half plugged in laptop charger in the middle of the night and didn't want to get in trouble since nobody else was awake. Even if it isn't fatal, it's terrifying and your vision completely blacks out and your arm tingles for days afterwards, and for the whole day after you got shocked your fingers on the hand that grabbed the prongs will randomly twitch, open or close or jerk to the side. You have no control, it's like when the doctor hits your knee to check your reflexes.

Now, from what I can tell from the scene where Danny went ghost for the first time, he really was electrocuted. From what I can tell, his ghost and human halves seem kinda separate- not completely, but the change is there. Where is this going?

Danny never told anyone about the accident- not anybody that could help him, anyways. I propose that, since he never got medical treatment or physical/occupational therapy after the accident, his motor function deteriorates over time.

More specifically, his small motor function is effected- I will be using personal experience in this section, since my small motor skills were so bad I couldn't use zippers or tie my shoes until I was 12, but I'll try putting things in reverse.

Danny starts fumbling with tying his shoes, laughing it off as being tired. Buttons take a few minuets, and even snap buttons become a bit hard. Odd, mildly confusing, but nothing to be concerned about. Then it progresses. He can't properly use tools anymore, it's like nothing is ever precise enough, everything takes a few tries to get it right. His fingers are fumbling everything, his handwriting turns to chickenscratch that not even he can read at times, he struggles to comb his hair because it's hard to coordinate movements, his back teeth are always textured because he struggles to brush his teeth and he can't really reach the back ones properly anymore.

I don't know if this is connected to small motor or not, but he starts dragging his feet and the toes of his shoes wear out quicker because walking while lifting his feet any higher doesn't feel right. This was something I had fixed during occupational therapy, but I don't know if it was just me or not.

Eventually, it becomes sunlight-on-clean-pact-snow levels of blindingly obvious that something is incredibly wrong. Danny's hair is knotted and half-matted because he is unable to brush it properly, when he smiles there is plaque on some parts of his teeth and not others, he always wears slip-on shoes or his laced shoes are always untied, buttons always seem like they could unslip because they're only half-buttoned, zippers in his jackets getting stuck in shirts and he doesn't bother to fix it, teachers can no longer read his assignments and his friends can't read his notes. Nobody can ignore it, but nobody knows how to help when Danny gets so clearly frustrated when he has to do something with his hands and it just doesn't work. It seems like he suddenly developed a hole in his lip, since he always had to lean far over his bowl or plate to not end up on food with his shirt because his hands can't hold silverware steady.

But Phantom? None of those issues. He became a ghost after being electrocuted, of course. Why would there be damage from the initial creation of this half? It could be why he ends up enjoying fighting the ghosts, his hands actually work with him instead of against him.

Feel free to take this idea and do what you want with it, I really liked writing this!

Also if you use this for a fic, please comment the link if possible, I wanna see all the ways people use this :)

Edit: So I started a mini-series about this. Is it any good? Probably not, but writing makes me happy.

Noticed But Hoping For The Best

[theflashjaygarrick]

It's so funny to me that DC sleepwalked into writing a fascinating story the cycle of abuse, the predatory nature of military-like structures, and the stifling nature of hegemonic masculinity with Hal Jordan and just pretended it never happened.

Like Hal's story is about how patriarchal authority figures punish 'boys' for failing to fit their standards of masculinity by hurting them or rejecting them. But if you play your cards right and model themselves after the patriarch then you can assume that role and access the power and freedom it brings. All you have to do is shut away any part of you that doesn't fit into the mould to be that man, and lie to yourself that this is who you have been all along.

Hal's story is about how well meaning young people can become tools to be used and discarded by authority. You are given the opportunity of power, of freedom, to help people so of course you take it. But remember what your father taught you, what failing to acquiesce to their rules means. So you make them unfalible Gods, and yourself their willing disciple, agreeing with them to the point that their oath becomes your own mantra. Sure they may break you, and dismiss you, and push you to ignore your gut feelings, but that doesn't matter. You're a hero and what you're doing is right. But that doesn't make it hurt any less when they push you past the limit you didn't believe you have, you have a taste of rebellion, and they cast you out as if you meant nothing to them.

Hal's story is one of being terrified of the cycle of abuse. You know your father was a cruel man. And yet you model yourself off him because what else could you do. He was a titan in your field, the sort of man people tell legends about. And more than that, despite everything, he was your father. you watched him die before you could even comprehend what abuse was, much process all that it meant. So you modelled yourself off of him, trying to take the good and leave the bad but unsure if that was ever possible. If your father was both a cruel man and a hero what does that make you? Is the monster there lying dormant as well? And how can you defeat it when you're scared of losing the things that made you a man.

Hal Jordan's story is one of growing past the masculinity forced upon you, of embracing your queer and feminine side as an act of radical healing. God has made you pay for your sins and in doing so gives you both boundless power and a role more harrowing then any you have had, with eons of history behind it. So you reject it. You make something new. Something kinder. Something that looks beyond the fire and brimstone and revenge and cruelty to find love and forgiveness and a brighter future. You search without yourself and find the feminine and the androgynous hidden without you and you begin to embrace them little by little.

You're not what your father wanted, nor the guardians, and maybe not even God (although maybe this is what they had planned all along?)

But there's a little girl in standing front of you with the fate of the universe resting on her shoulders. She calls you Auntie Hal. And with all the emotional walls you put up being brought down you can say you love her with an ease you never had before. And to her even now, the opposite of everything that your father and your society and your world said you should aspire to be, she thinks you are the most amazing person she has ever met.

[grimdarling69]

Another Deaged Dan and Ellie or otherwise known as Crack pt8

John Constantine was unsurprisingly quite used to being tied up. Ever since Batman called him in to inspect that interdimensional portal that reeked of the Infinate Realms, he's been inning around like a chicken with its head cut off, trying to stop the end of the world. The portal was just about the worst constructed thing ever. It was running on ectoplasm and soda. From the notes and scribbles he found in the lab. Luthor was going to create a that would have been much safer but ran out of time. So they recreated 'the Fenton portal' he has no idea what that is.

Even Batman, much to his displeasure, has no clue. He's the fucking Batman, the greatest detective in the world and he has no goddamned clue what the fuck that means. Whatever the fuck or whoever the fuck Fenton is he will be torturing them somehow.

God, he needs a drink. He tries to reach his flask in his coat but can't. Because he's fucking tied up in a random ghosts lair.

"Beware! I am the Box Ghost!" Fucking kill him now. How the fuck did this loser capture him. He tricked fucking Satan so many times snd this rectangular obsessed ghost captures him? He's never living this down. He just hopes Zee won't find him before he gets out of here.

Purple smoke seeps in from the ghosts door to his lair. To late.

"Huh?" The stupid ghost questions the smoke and flies toward it.

"Beware!" He yelled and threw his hands up. Obviously, trying to appear scary but only achieving in making himself look like a total dork. God, what an idiot he was. Hurry up, Zee. He's not bloody drunk enough to play damsel in distress.

The smoke turned tangible and wrapped up the befuddled ghost and drags him to the floor. He tries to go intangible, but the purplish ribbons keep top strong a grip on him. He resorts to wiggling around on the floor like a worm. The door is roughly kicked open, and Zatanna struts in.

"Need a hand, john?" She sarcastically asked him. He sighed.

"Just put me out of my misery, please Zee."

"No can do." She uses her magician wand to cut the rope magically and dropped him to the floor like a sack of potatoes. Curse you my knight in shining fishnets.

"Hope you don't mind i brought some company." She said like she'd really care if he did.

"Oh great." He picked himself off the floor, massaging his irritated skin. His head was still spinning from being tied upside down for so long. He stumbled and was caught by a pair of strong arms. He looked up and saw four batears and two frowns.

"Aw batsy, you do love me.. fuck I don't feel good..." He then immediately threw up the measly crackers and some whiskey he had in his jacket for some reason when he was captured by those fuckers last week.

He reached into his coat pocket and grabbed his flask, and took a big swing of the empty flask.

"God fucking damnit!" He cursed and fumbled around for a cigarette finding absolutely nothing. Worst day ever. Or night or whatever the fuck time it is.

"Constantine. What the hell are you doing?" Batman gravelly voice interrogated him. What a tool. He finally takes a glance around his now less spinning surroundings. Zatanna really brought the cavalry in, didn't she?

Red Hood, Red Robin, Signal and Flash younger stood on one side of the room. Wonderwoman, Green Lantern, Martian Manhunter, the older Flash, and Cyborg were on the other.

"What in the bloody hell is this?"

"Nightwing and Robin. Have you found anything?" Diana asked calmly like this was any other day. And they weren't in one of the most dangerous places in the multiverse.

"Yeah, they're trapped in the Far Frozen."

"How are you so sure?"

"Ghosts are stealing food and human items across the earth. Mostly from high magic and death rate areas. Where natural portals are more common." He took a cigarette from Red hoods outstretched hand, ignoring the glare from the others around them. Also ignoring the shove Red Robin gave to his brother and lit the tip with a quick spell. Inhaling and blowing out the smoke is an experienced dance.

"We already know that. We've all tried tracking them and nothing works." Zatanna stated crossing her arms and peering over the brim of her hat questioningly.

"I've got a source. Did some bounty hunting for the resident ghost of a dead warden, he wanted some ghosts locked back up in his prison." He pointed at the still wiggling ghost "This one here was the first one I locked up a week ago after I left those demons in the dust and he got a lucky revenge shot in."

"How do you the warden is trustworthy?" The older Flash questioned. He looked nervous like he was waiting for something.

Another shoe to drop was just what he needed.

"Because i got it verified by the Lord of all time. He told me to hurry that'll I'll need to be 'Beware of poisonous thorns '. I'm guessing he just means they're guarded by a nature ghost or something. Weird for the antartic, but they are ghosts, so nothing really has to make bloody sense around here." Taking another drag from his, smoke, and he takes a mental stock of the few things they'd need to make it there.

"We need to go now. How do we get there?" Batman grabbed his arm and started pulling him toward the door.

"Slow your roll, luv. Do you want to die? We've got a lot of things to do if you want even a chance to survive that bloody place. Forget even making it there."

"Like what?" The older Flash asked suddenly standing with Batman and wonder woman.

"Like getting some bloody jackets."

----------

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The alarm clock beeps loudly in his ear. He smacks it without thinking. So early.....getting up and walking to the bathroom swiping his phone on the way. Doing his business and brushing his teeth.

He scroll through his phone. Bruce wanted to talk, Jason was mad at him, Tim was pissed at a case, Babs missed seeing him. He walks out the bedroom after pulling on some random shorts. He yawns loudly and open the cabinets grabbing cereal.

He eats the cereal slowly while responding to messages. Looks like the internet isn't working very well nothings going through...weird with a waynephone but not impossible it wasn't as bat-grade as his other tech anyway. He'll fix it later. His sons bedroom door opens.

"Richard? Where are we?"

"Richard? Since when do you call your old man by his first name? Not very proper of you baby wing." He joked ruffling his hair. Damians face was rippled with confusion.

"Your not my...father...oh my ancients...fuck-" He looked around the room for another second then turned back around and ran into his room slamming the door closed.

"Damian..!" He tried the door, but he immediately heard the lock turn. He knocked on the wood, hoping Damian would respond.

"What's going on? Are you okay?" He tried to talk to him through the door. He stuck his ear to the door and could hear rustling noises and swears and something Diseree?

He grabbed his lockpicks from their usual places. He picked the lock methodically.

"Diseree! Fix this now! Or I'll put you down!"

"Ughhhh I'm only granting your wish!" A echoey voice unbound by a physical plane.

A genie(?) Flew up through the floor she wore blue robes and with a bored expression snapped her opaque fingers and everything went dark.

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

Everything hurt. Before he could even wake up he was aware of immense pain. His chest hurt and his eyes were to heavy to even attempt at moving. They felt heavier than his fortress key. He vaguely recognized the bed he was laying on to be his recovery cot with the solar panels in the watchtower med bay. He tried to think of what led to this but he couldn't think of anything. It hurt to think god his head was pounding like he went through a skyscraper all the way from the top to the basement and further.

"Clark? Can you hear me?" Lois? What was she doing here? He tried to open his eyes but they must have been glued shut.

"Stay still, dad..." Jon? Jon...and him...were fighting but over what? Something to do with Robin, maybe. He can't remember, and it hurts to try to sift through his shattered memory.

"Go back to sleep dad. We'll be here when you wake up." Kon, he remembers telling him something but what was it? Be prepared? No he says that all the time it's something different...its gotta be something new...God if only the lights weren't so bright maybe he could open his eyes. Speak. Ask him. I know it's important, what did I tell you?

He tries to open his mouth, and all he hears is beeping and unfamiliar voices. He thinks he can hear Lois tell him to calm down? He is calm. in fact, he feels too calm, like the calm before the storm. Ugh, if only that obnoxious beeping and shouting would stop. This time, he welcomes the embrace of darkness. Anything to escape that horrid shrieking.

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

"And why should I help you?" The large green and pink alien looking woman leered at Constantine. This was a bad idea, a terrible one, actually. Why did you listen to Batman, Wally? He should have just zoomed around this dimension instead of almost killing them by begging for help from dead aliens! Why would Dora the Explorer or whatever her name is want to help us?

"Because I've brought you your cousin, Diana of Themyscira?" Constantine told the amused tall as fuck lady. She was huuuuge-not in a rude way of course. Gid he's an idiot atleast he's to scared to speak. He's the Flash, faced of million of scarier foes but something about her just makes every hair on his body stand in fear. She kinda reminds him of Wonder Woman.

Wait, did he just say cousin-wait? Is he trying to sacrifice her to this random alien?? By telling her she's its cousin?? Is he telling the truth she is kinda of wearing armor like Wonder Woman, but still...

"Greeting cousin, I've heard many stories of your great cleverness." WW said to her. He guesses he was telling the truth if she's going with it.

"And of my great naivety and stupidity? You have been poisoned by spending all your time with these mortals if you think false flattery will endear me to you. What will you give me if I help and don't say your soul. I know who you are, John Constantine, and your reputation precedes you even here." She spoke with an even tone, but he could feel the power in her words as she toyed with the small box in her lap. Running her fingers across its lid and body. Tracing the beautiful woodwork.

"A favor. If you know of my reputation, you must know of my skills." Constantine quickly controlled himself and attempted to convince her again.

"I suppose it would be nice to hold a favor from such a skilled magician..." She appeared deep in thought, and from his position to the side, he could see Constantine's eye twitching from being called a magician. This was pretty fucking funny actually. He just hopes Constantine controls himself.

"You wanted a way to the Far Frozen, why? Does it have anything to do with the rumored lockdown over there?" Shit she wasn't convinced this was less funny....

"There's a lockdown...? That wasn't-"

"Calm yourself, magician. I have been invited for diplomatic reason recently and j suppose I could invite a few of you but not all of course. Tell me why you need to go there and ill put us on the list?" She praticaly purred the last part she knew she won.

"We-"

"Are looking for my sons." Batman interupted WW and what the hell was he thinking? Giving information to people we have no clue about! He was Batman he'd kick people out of the Justice League for that and now he's doing this!

"Your littlest one is in great pain. Burdened and heavy, how will you relieve that?" She pondered aloud her voice seemed to echo against the marble.

"He is my son. I will do anything to help him-them." Batman answered truthfully with full conviction.

The woman hummed thoughtfully. "He told me that would be your answer but can you keep your word. Can you accept that the son you lost will not be the son gained?"

"I thought The Lord of Time was the riddle fanatic?" Constsntine joked and the woman turned to him ever amused. "Well i enjoy some from time to time." She chuckled at her own joke and turned away toward her maze the one they came through. It wasn't a difficult one at all hardly newsworthy but he had a guess she had something to do with the skill level.

"A friend of mine has a beautiful ship. He would be delighted to escort mortals across the Realms."

"There are no large enough ectoplasmic pools for a ship large enough to hold our party. Mortals need more space than ghosts. We cannot simply hibernate like your kind." Zatanna answered this time he was wondering when she'd show back up. She had left in a flurry of magical nonsense for something but he didn't really understand her explanation.

"Ah but his ship does not sail the water but the sky." She reached into a pouch secured onto her leg below her fancy Greek skirt , which probably had a fancy special name, she pulled out a white whistle. It had runes and symbols all over it and they glowed a bright neon green. She blew into it but no sound came from it.

"Sounds broken-" He manged to whisper to Vic right next him. Victor glanced at him about to speak but a sudden loud crashing over head. He crashed to the floor while the gaint alien Greek ghost laughed at all of them. He looked up to the sky the large pirate ship with skeletons hanging out the side of it peering them. What the....

"Amen Auntie Dora! You called?" A young boy dressed in pirate gear complete with a skeleton parrot on his shoulder.

"It's 'ahoy' ugh why do even I try?" The pirate groaned loudly.

This is going to be one interesting voyage...

[moonlitstoriess]

Across the Universe-ch.1 (Azriel x reader, eventual Fenrys x reader)

Summary: Y/n has everything she needs in life. A family, friends, a safe place she calls home and most importantly a male whom she loves. What happens when it all changes when Y/n finds out about the betrayal of her lover and her so called family? Well, ending up in Terassen and in queen Aelin's court was not what she expected but what she will need to start her new journey full of surprises.

See masterlist

A/n: hey everyone! so this is my first work on here and I just hope you will enjoy it. Please do not hesitate to comment whether you like it/want more of it or if you have some good constructive criticism to give! I will give some clarifications at the end of this chapter as to not give away any spoilers beforehand:)

Being a female Illyrian with wings was never meant to be easy. Growing up and not knowing your parents was perhaps the greatest pain a child could endure. Especially if that child grows up in a cruel place like the Illyrian camps. For the first 20 years of her life, y/n knew nothing but pain, mistreatment and hatred as she spent her youth at the cruel hands of an old Illyrian bastard. Of course, what y/n went through was never kept as a secret but it is not like anyone cared anyway. This was Illyria, the mistreatment of females was not a surprise. In fact, the vile monsters who called themselves warriors, encouraged it.

And just like any other female unlucky enough to be born in Illyria and have wings, y/n had to get her wings clipped. Even after all those years, that moment that changed everything for y/n is still so vivid in her mind...

The leaves in the forest crunched as his boots kept stepping on them while dragging her through the maze of trees.

"Please, please I beg you do not take my wings!"

He kept on ignoring her. She called him a 'He' because y/n would never willingly say his disgusting name. Not when he was the cause of all her trauma and illnesses. She kept thrashing, begging and trying to get away but it was useless.

"I beg yo-"

Her words were cut short as a slap was delivered to her face.

"Shut you mouth! you useless bitch"

She never begged. No, y/n was strong, even then, at her weakest she was strong. She never begged. Not when he would burn her hands, not when he would whip her back, not when he would beat her up because she forgot to do a chore. But now she begged. She begged for her only form of freedom, her precious wings. At that moment y/n knew what had to be done. This was the last straw.

"Stay like that on your knees and do NOT move, or else you won't like the consequences."

As he turned around to search for his tools, y/n sat there on the ground in the middle of this dark forest just outside the outskirts of the village and knew she could not go down like those before her. For 20 years she submitted to his every will but not now, not again. Weak coward is what she has been and now it was time to change that.

When he turned around, y/n was holding her only form of protection, her pocket knife that she would always hide under her clothes. When he was close enough, y/n gave a final prayer to the mother and attacked him with a sloppy move that would result in either her freedom or death.

"It is time to truly make you bound to me you bi-"

He did not get to finish his words as the knife he did not see in the dark, found its mark in his throat. Crimson red blood was everywhere as that monster choked on his own blood like a damn fool and finally, slumped to the ground.

The rest? Well, the rest became history as y/n left that night with his blood still soaking her own clothes and body and his fresh corpse laying on the ground. She would never let anyone ever dictate her life again. Never would she be weak again. And so, for the next 80 years of her life, y/n went from one place to another and taught herself how to fight and be like a warrior. Her name began spreading around like wildfire, as people started talking of the Illyrian female who not only managed to keep her wings but also killed her abuser.

She helped hundreds, by recruiting victims of different horrible events and teaching them how to fight and protect themselves. Y/n became a legend especially in the eyes of female Illyrians who tried to follow her lead. This was also the reason why y/n one day opened her door to see the High Lord of the Night Court waiting for her. The smile on Rhysands face was blinding as he praised y/n while also telling her about how it was a dream of his to get rid of the old Illyrian traditions and rules set against the females. It was on that eventful day that the High Lord also offered y/n to join his court and make a very impactful visit to Illyria after all these years to help him make those changes.

At the time, it was a huge step for y/n as she delegated her role as a trainer to her first-best student who was more than honored to continue y/n's job in the training academy. When she came to Velaris she was in awe of its beauty and comfort. The inner circle welcomed her with open arms and although y/n was a little distant at first, she soon got along well with everyone and especially Cassian as they trained daily together. It was also the time when the first seeds of her crush on Azriel were planted.

Therefore, by the age of 100, y/n was an official member of the night court, a legendary figure who started to make her changes during her visits to the Illyrian camps. This time, she went in not as a weakling, but as a feared and well-respected fighter, female and most of all, Illyrian. But even with all of the fierce titles that she got, y/n still felt like turning into a small, shy and meek girl whenever Azriel was around. Rhysand sending them together on constant missions did nothing to ease her increasing infatuations with the famed shadowsinger either.

Unfortunately, they got closer during the darkest of times when Rhysand sacrificed himself to protect his court and city from Amarantha. It was then that, Azriel and y/n shared their deepest, most raw and intimate moments with one another while also doing their best to protect the city in which they were locked in thanks to Rhysands wards. Those moments were what led y/n to confess her true feelings to the spymaster during the 4th year of what would be Amarantha's 50 year reign of terror. After that day, they truly became lovers in all aspects that mattered. Even though that unmistakable bond of a mate did not appear, y/n knew it was only a matter of time before they both felt it. There was no other way.

Today, sitting here on her lovers chair in his office, y/n felt proud of herself and her loved ones for overcoming so much. Rhysand and Feyre under the mountain, the war against Hybern, Nesta and Elain becoming high fae, and the attack on Velaris all left many scars both visible and invisible on everyone. Knowing that everyone has finally found some form of happiness and that her lover is safe with her should have made y/n happy, excited even. But as of late, she could not bring herself to feel anything because Azriel was not the male she once knew.

For a very long time now, the shadowsinger has been distancing himself from y/n in favor of spending more time with a specific redheaded priestess, Gwyneth. What was once called the hour of reading by y/n and Az in the comfort of their home, turned into reading with Az and Gwyn in the library. Even during training, Gwyn would respectfully decline y/n or anyone elses offers to train her and would instead ask Azriel to teach her. He would always happily oblige, leaving y/n alone as Cassian trained with Nesta. At first, y/n tried to understand and reason by thinking that since Azriel was the one to save the priestess from facing a terrible fate in the library of Sangravah, it was only fair that she felt safe around him. However, the other priestesses were also saved by Azriel, Cassian and Rhysand and yet, y/n never saw them be as clingy as Gwyn was towards Azriel.

The final nail in the coffin came when Azriel started coming home late and locking himself up in his office and leaving early in the morning. This meant that y/n never saw her lover, let alone kissed or made love to him. That is how it led to her finally coming to his office to wait for him and get some answers to her questions.

"Y/n? W-what are you doing here?"

That slightly nervous voice drew her back into reality as y/n looked back from the window showing the beautiful city, to see Azriel standing in the doorway with dishelved hair and a sort of scared look in his eyes, no matter how much he tried to not show it, y/n knew him like the back of her hand. Being together for 52 years does that to you. This was not a good sign then, for Azriel never showed such a shameful expression and his shadows were nowhere in sight.

As y/n got up from the chair and started walking towards him, her mind and soul clinged onto that last thread of hope that the male whom she loved was not unfaithful to her, that he would explain everything and she would see that she was making silly little assumptions out of nothing.

Unfortunately, all that hope came crashing down as y/n got close enough to him and smelled that scent of another female, that scent that belonged to...Gwyn. And if the small dark marks that were peeking above the spymasters shirt were any indicator, they did more than just read together.

Y/n felt like she was drowning, like a huge mountain just crashed down on her and she was left under all that rubble to suffocate and die. She was frozen in her spot, unfeeling and unmoving as she felt her body shut down completely. Clearly, this only meant that she would shatter soon enough but not here, not in front of him. Never would she ever be weak infront of any male. And so, with a voice that conveyed no emotion, she asked, "How long?"

"Y/n ple-"

"How long, Azriel."

Azriel sighed as he looked anywhere but at her when he said, "Since the first time Nesta brought her to train with us."

"But that was 2 years ago."

After seeing him nod very slightly, she reigned in her tears that were burning the backs of her eyes, and asked one simple question,

"Why?"

Now it was the shadowsingers turn to look as emotionless as he could while saying, "Because she is my mate y/n."

Mate, mate, mate ofcourse he would have a mate, no matter how many years they were together, neither of them ever felt that bond snap. Foolish, so foolish to think, to hope that they were destined to be, that their bond would snap any moment. But how cruel can one be to hide the truth for 2 years, To go behind her back, even if Gwyn is his mate, and be unfaithful? To not admit the truth as if y/n wouldn't understand. And Gwyn? how could she never once mention it to y/n during all those moments spent together? How, how how..

As if that pain was not enough, Azriel confessed, "I am sorry y/n but truly, did you think we were fated to be? I always knew what we had was temporary, that we were never going to have a happy end as the cauldron would give us both our own mates. My love for you has always only been platonic...have you not noticed that I never once said 'I love you'? I saw you as a friend, a companion in whom I could loose myself for a while as I waited for my mate to come. Truly, you were good, so good to me, kind and caring and yet, so foolish. You imagined and expected too much of us y/n...for you I was a male whom you desperately loved but for me, you were simply someone who I could spend my time with until my mate arrived. I love Gwyn, I have taken her to the house of wind multiple times and made love to her there, I have spent my time understanding and creating as many memories as possible with her. From the moment I saw her 2 years ago when Nesta brought her, I felt this pull towards her and now...now I could never get enough. I do not say this to hurt you, but to make you see the truths that we were never what you wanted us to be."

Y/n took a deep inhale, the only indicator of her emotions at the moment while still processing his words and asked her final question while still staring at the wall behind him, "Who knew?"

Azriel was confused for a minute because after all that he had just confessed, she only asked that? Not to mention how much it was killing him to not understand her current emotions and expressions as y/n stayed completely unflinching, staring at the wall and expecting an answer from him. So, with a shameful sigh, the spymaster replied, "Everyone knew."

At that moment, y/n knew 2 things with clarity. First, never should you trust someone, no matter how close you are with them. Never should you give your heart to someone because in the end, they shall shatter it anyway. In this life, you are always on your own. Y/n has always been alone even after joining Rhys, y/n walked her own lonely road. Second, her "family" were traitorous liars. For the past 2 years as y/n descended back into her depressive moments, as she got flashbacks of those horrible times from her youth spent in the Illyrian village, as her panic attacks and insecurities started to resurface, the inner circle did nothing to pull her out of it. But what else would you expect from them? of course they would protect Azriel and his actions, no matter how disgusti-

"Y/n? please talk to me, I am going mad here with your lack of words and emotions. Please sweetheart." as Azriel's hand made contact with y/n's wrist, it was as if an electric shock brought her back to life.

Y/n slapped him right across the face as she said her next words in a tone so cruel and unfeeling, her enemies did not even hear that tone before meeting their death's at her hands, "If you touch me again, my knife shall find it's mark between your eyes, so unless you do not want to leave your precious mate a widow so soon, I suggest you get the fuck out of my sight, shadowsinger."

"Y/n ple-"

"Oh and, since you are such a loyal dog to him, do tell your rotten high lord that I am leaving his rotten court. I shall be gone by sunrise."

As she turned to leave his office throught he backdoor, Azriel did something that Y/n had never known him capable of doing. He fell on his knees as tears threatened to spill from his eyes and begged in a voice so shaky, y/n could only think whether he was even real.

"Y/n I beg you, let us talk properly, Gwyn kept telling me how I must let you know. That she hates being a secret but I was such a coward I-I..plea-"

"I do not care what Gwyn has to say. Save your tears and pleas for someone who cares Azriel, you are right, you are a coward and perhaps you always were one for playing with my feelings in such a cruel way. Do not come after me or I swear I won't hesitate to end you with my bare hands."

With that, y/n turned her back on the male for whom she would once move the mountains for, for whom she would sacrifice herself for. The male whom she loved so much and yet, this whole time he toyed with her, he saw her as a placeholder. What a blind fool have you been y/n.

The second y/n made sure that Azriel left the house, she broke down in tears. For the first time in a very long time, y/n cried unstoppable tears. But that moment came to an abrupt end as she heard a voice. Whether it was within her mind or from somewhere else she did not know and did not care because even though the voice sounded so far away, she got this immediate urge within her soul to go find it.

Deep down, y/n knew she should let it be, that she is possibly imagining things and that she should start packing now but that urge within her tightened as if wanting her to go find the source of the voice. So, with a final wipe of her tears, y/n stood and leapt through her window, spreading her wings and following that string to reach the distant voice.

As y/n began nearing the source of the sound, she realized that it is coming from the house of wind. She should have turned around and left at that second because seeing this house now only brought back Azriels words about how he spent his time here with Gwyn. Atleast that is what the y/n who was not possesed by an urge would do. But alas, this thread only grew stronger within her, leaving her no other choice.

As she began walking down the halls of the house, y/n looked back on all her memories with the inner circle here. Once, those memories would have made her smile fondly but now, they only make her feel anger and disgust. They knew this whole time...such liars, such tra-

No...this could not be it. The urge within her must have been playing a foolish trick because no way was the voice coming from this room. But that urge within her had died down as if finally only the double doors in front of y/n were stopping her from getting to the voice. But this room wasn't just any room. It was the warded room containing all 3 objects of the Trove AND the Book of Breathings.

From here, she could clearly hear the ugly, hissing voice of the book saying, "Welcome, The Terror."

"Why are you hesitating? Open the door child, open it."

As if on cue, the wards around the room disappeared and the doors opened for her. Y/n could only be confused for a second before an unknown power forced her to walk into the area. And there it was, that book sitting on the circular table in the middle of the room, beckoning for her to come closer.

"The Iron Phoenix, you finally came to learn your destiny."

Y/n scoffed as she looked at the silly book from a distance and said, "Did you truly waste my time by making me come to you so that you could spit your nonsense at me? I have enough to deal with already, I do not need another headache from you."

As she turned around to leave, the book hissed loudly, "Do not mock me you fool, I know your deepest secret Winged Fury, a secret so precious not even your once beloved lover knows."

At that, y/n turned around with a shocked expression all over her face and asked, "How? How do you know of it?"

"You can not know more than me, Valkyrie, I am the one who knows it all."

It seems today was the day when y/n had to find out just how little she knows about everything. She had enough, and this stupid book will be the unfortunate one to be the outlet of her emotions. Furious, she took quick strides to reach it as she began, "How dare you?! you call me here to spit nothing of value at me while I just went through the wo-"

A sudden wave of power hit her as y/n felt like she was stuck in one place right in front of the book. Her walls, her mental walls they...they were being melted down as she felt her mind fall into some hypnotic spells.

With a voice so beautiful and eerily soothing, the book says, "Open me, open me Braveheart and see your true destiny."

Somewhere, the last sane part of her was telling y/n that this was wrong, that whatever will happen once she opens the book won't be good. Unfortunately, y/n seemed unable to follow that voice as her fingers made contact with the cover of the ancient book and flipped it open.

The book started flipping its own pages until it landed on the one with language so old, y/n knew that it was not remembered within the past history. Her mouth began moving against her will as she began saying the words on the book in such an experienced manner, it felt as if the ancient object had posessed her.

At some point, y/n could hear distant voices...was that Rhys? Az? Cas? or no, no maybe that is Nesta or another female who is screaming? Y/n could not move, could not think, as if her sole purpose was to finish the spell. She could distantly feel her body loosing its physicality. Was she disappearing? Was she becoming a ghost?

As she was saying the final words of the book, y/n turned around to find everyone from the inner circle in the room trying to get closer to her. Despair was all over their faces but it was Azriels tear striken face that y/n saw for the last time before darkness welcomed her.

"You are home now, Stormbreaker, you are home."

"Now, you shall unfold your true destiny."

With a jolt, y/n shot her eyes open and got up from...was this a grassy hill? as she turned to look behind her, there was a small lake with a white...is that a deer? What is this place? Where was she?

But y/n did not get to explore anything else as she felt the cool edge of a knife press into her throat from behind as a male voice said to her, "You move, you die."

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

A/n: Damn this was fun to write! What secret does y/n have? I did leave a very tiny clue on that for anyone who might find it;) Anyway, I know most of you were maybe expecting Az to cheat with Elain but i am a Gwynriel shipper through and through and just could not think of Elain being such a homwrecker. Of course I am pretty sure Gwyn isn't one either butttt just for the sake of plot ya know. This won't be the last time we see the acotar characters as they will appear hopefully in the later chapters. But for now, sit back and watch y/n's new journey in this new world.

[aromacaque]

Quick S5 Analysis and Theory

I AM GOING TO RAMBLE ANALYSIS BECAUSE THEY ARE DRIVING ME CRAZY

I cannot stop thinking about the way Wukong reacts to Macaque when he goes "oh no 'gee thanks for saving me macaque!...'" cause if this were before the S5E2, he would have snapped back at him, like he always does.

We know Macaque does this solely to rile Wukong up. It's how we're introduced to his character in S1E9 and he does it throughout the series. This is why he did it here too (or at least partially), BUT WUKONG DOESN'T TAKE THE BAIT THIS TIME.

While he's obviously still reeling from seeing the memory of their fight he was forced to watch,

you can still see that, for a split second, Wukong almost does snap back, but he instantly rethinks that and decides to be passive

Macaque, again, pokes at him trying to get a reaction, but this time Wukong doesn't even think about snapping back. He simply responds casually/lightly (before then realizing that MK is in danger)

This tells us possibly two really important things

Macaque sacrificing himself in S5E2 was a turning point for Wukong's perception of him. An increase in personal trust/faith/etc.

2. Seeing the memory of their fight made him rethink his behavior toward Macaque

For the rest of the season, they don't get a lot of moments because of, well, Everything, but we see Wukong is not only more willing to show concern for his wellbeing, but also seems to be more open/emotionally vulnerable in front of him than before (in little moments, anyway).

Granted that has been building up since S4E11, arguably before that but I'm not going to deep dive analyze season 3. He's being more communicative with Macaque in S5E1 about MK too. In other words, not completely shutting him out or pushing him away, which seems like their natural progression from S4E11 as well.

All of that being said, this brings me to The Scene. Which I am completely normal about because there's so much to unpack about it and I am so normal about that. Evidently.

First of all, they wanted to hold hands during their final moments. MK and Macaque are the two most important people in Wukong's life, I feel like that speaks for itself.

BUT it's Wukong who reaches out here.

This is Wukong's first major attempt to bridge the gap between them, at least in such a direct way. In my opinion, it's almost a wordless forgiveness on top of acknowledging how Macaque has changed and improved himself, as well as his reciprocation of that behavior. He wants to fix their relationship too, just as he has seen Macaque willing to do the same.

This moment being interrupted was actually a good thing. It's a good visual reminder that, despite them both wanting to reconcile, they aren't Quite there yet. There's still a lot left unsaid between these two, most importantly Macaque's death. (I'LL GET TO THAT. HOLD THAT IN YOUR BRAIN)

For macaque, this moment has another important meaning.

AND NOW I GET TO TALK ABOUT ONE OF MY FAVORITE WRITING TOOLS HELLO PARALLELS!!!!

In S2E7 we are introduced to this shot of Wukong on a pedestal over Macaque, turning his back on him and abandoning him. This is firmly established in that episode as one of the main reasons Macaque resents Wukong.

He is also portrayed as above him, subsequently nodding at Macaque feeling inferior to him.

In S4E11, we actually watch how this dynamic destroys their friendship. It is a MAJOR reason for their falling out. Macaque feels neglected, overlooked, ignored. Promises are broken and trust is lost. To him, Wukong is selfish, self-righteous, egotistical, uncaring, etc.

Obviously we as the audience are aware Macaque has a rather skewed perception of Wukong that seems to be influenced by his projection of his own insecurities, but that is a whole other analysis for a different time.

In S5E10, this shot is paralleled. Visually demonstrating that Wukong isn't forgetting about him this time. He looks for him. Macaque is being considered in a way he had previously believed was lacking in their friendship.

Not only that, but they are on level ground. Balanced and equal.

Macaque is reluctant to reach back out. His trust in Wukong is practically non-existent, has been for a while (understandably), so it's a little hard for him, but he reciprocates because, like Wukong, he's acknowledging that he has changed. He wants to try to fix this too.

TO RECAP!

They know they both want to fix things

They can see and have acknowledged changes in their behavior on both sides

Wukong seems to be less prone to arguing back, which will most likely make Macaque less likely to try and provoke him. All in all, they will be more civil with each other and most likely argue much less.

They are being held back by things left unsaid.

WHICH LEADS ME TOO...

WHERE DOES THIS LEAD THEM IN S6?

The obvious is they need to address Macaque's death. If they don't do it in this season it's bad writing and they are dragging it out for too long. It's the obvious natural progression here.

This is where they will have an actual, long overdue constructive conversation. It is literally singlehandedly the only thing preventing them from reconciling at this point.

Now, the problem, is how this would happen. Because we all know neither of them are going to randomly apologize out of nowhere. It's gonna take something to push them into that direction. And that should be how it happens otherwise it'd most likely feel forced in the script.

WHICH BRINGS ME TO A THEORY. A GAME THEO-

I'm not going to get into the nitty-gritty details of this particular theory, but just know that I am a firm believer in the "Macaque was consumed by his own powers and that's what killed him" theory. I do think Wukong played a substantial role in his death, enough for Macaque to reasonably believe Wukong killed him, but ultimately it was less Wukong directly killing him and more indirectly causing it and not saving him.

That being said, Wukong and Macaque's relationship is a major subplot in this show with a considerable amount of focus. They have been slowly building to their inevitable mending relationship since Macaque's first episode, which means that they're going to want to reach that climax in a pivotal emotional moment. Not a random conversation smacked into an episode.

And what is going to be plot-relevant next season??

MACAQUE'S CHAOS POWERS.

S5 built up to Macaque being an established member of the group

(Also the VO here being "change can be terrifying" is absolutely foreshadowing to some degree)

Now, there's also something else I need to address. Macaque has gone out of his way 3 separate times, 4 if you count the LBD fight, to save Wukong. On the other hand, Wukong obviously cares about Macaque, but ultimately hasn't had many opportunities or reasons to try to save him specifically.

With all of those details in mind, I think Wukong will need to take direct action by either saving him/protecting him/etc. because I think it would be a high-stakes moment that inevitably kickstarts an apology/conversation between them. Maybe it's something that reminds Wukong of their fight or that macaque can die (hence the chaos powers potentially harming Macaque in some manner or maybe a potential difficulty controlling them reminds Wukong of their fight, something along these lines).

Why this route?

Macaque has regained Wukong's trust. He basically says as much in S5E2. And while it's fairly obvious with Macaque's behavior and choices that he has learned from his past mistakes and is working on his faults, he definitely needs to acknowledge his wrongdoings. However, I think that would naturally happen during any conversation they may have (or the aftermath) regarding his death and their feelings.

That leaves Wukong because he made a promise to Macaque that they’d spend eternity together and that he would protect him and their home. A promise he broke multiple times and has not made up for yet. He needs to mend that and make it right to solidly regain Macaque's trust in order to reconcile.

[eowynstwin]

disquiet comfort / neighbors

previous

On a cold winter's day in the early morning hours, you knock on your neighbor Captain John Price's door to make a noise complaint. - You give a sudden, high-pitched cry, one that abruptly cuts off. - ao3

John hears the creak of your bed springs the next morning.

He’s not surprised by it—you’re not the first neighbor he’s had, only the first he’s met. He knows how thin the walls are now, and has long passed the point of finding it annoying. He listens as the sound of your taps coming on filters through drywall and insulation at a low hum, thinks he can hear the buzz of an electric toothbrush. He wonders if you can hear his razor going as he trims his mustache.

It feels nice to have this odd company, he thinks. The two of you, going through the same motions. It strikes an old, abandoned chord—he hasn’t woken up with anyone in a long, long time.

He puts his razor down and squashes the thought flat. His neighbor—his kind, pretty neighbor—does not need him to think like that. Even if your eyes had traveled the length and breadth of his body before making it to his face.

He meets his own eyes in the mirror, giving himself a flat look. He isn’t used to civilian life. Answering the door shirtless had probably been some sort of faux pas. If you’d been looking, you’d probably been more disconcerted than anything else. That’s the long and short of it, he tells himself, because there’s no room for anything else.

John is never very good at being home. The things that keep him alive out there—hyperawareness, sharply defined mission parameters, strict operational regimens—are, at home, needs that go unmet. Liverpool is not a popular terrorist hotbed he needs to pay attention to. He isn’t going to die if he forgets to buy milk. And he can only go to the gym so often.

But he needs something to do, or he’s going to go crazy.

So today he does on leave what he dreams of in the field: he has his first of two showers for the day, makes himself breakfast in his own kitchen, and turns on the telly for the noise. It’s some dumb morning show, with too-clean hosts shilling for weird kitchen tools. Easy to ignore.

Inevitably, he thinks about Mexico. About Shepherd. About Chicago, and Hassan, and Laswell telling him he needs to get some goddamn rest before he kills himself trying to stop a war that isn’t even happening.

“Yet,” he’d ground out.

She’d just stared at him with dagger-sharp eyes and told him to go home.

John bites into his toast harder than a grown man told to take a fucking vacation should, and turns up the volume.

Three soft, polite taps sound on the wall.

John blinks. Remembers the previous morning, what he’d said to you. The remote is in his hand before he thinks about it, the mute button depressed beneath a quick thumb.

The quiet is like the end of a gunfight. Unsteady.

He waits. He doesn’t know what for. The silence stretches. He notices a shaft of sunlight coming through his window, little motes of dust dancing in the air, as he looks around his own flat for some reason. It’s habit—surveying a battlefield after it’s been passed over by violence.

He looks back to the space above the TV. Rises carefully from his seat. Goes over to the wall.

Raps his knuckles twice against it. All good?

Immediately there are two taps in response. Yes, thanks! And the break of the still silence is like a soap bubble popping. John breathes, and then realizes he hadn’t been.

There are no further knocks. It disappoints him, but he does not expect them. It’s just a friendly interaction between neighbors.

It doesn’t matter. It feels like something has unknotted in his chest.

He feels almost like a voyeur as the day goes on. He hears when you work in your kitchen, notes the muffled clang of a pan on the stove. He hears your dishwasher run later, and briefly wonders at the utility of using it for so few dishes.

You’re on the phone at one point, but he can’t make out the conversation. He only half-tries to, but the even the indistinct, low sound of your voice is comforting. It reminds him of late nights in the barracks, listening to bunk mates talk while trying not bother anyone else. The closest to domestic comfort John has really ever had.

You turn music on at one point, something soulful and a little moody. John thinks it might be Marvin Gaye, but he’s not sure. The urge to knock on your door and ask is a strong one, but he doesn’t think you need a lonely old soldier bothering you in the middle of your day. At least, not any more than he already has. And before he can figure it out for himself, he hears you exclaim “Oh, shit!” and the volume immediately drops.

He has to smile at that. It’s a rare luxury for him to experience these days, that kind of consideration.

Something in his chest gives a little jump when he hears two knocks on his wall again. Sorry, he thinks you’re saying.

He knocks twice back. All good.

He should not feel so invigorated by this exchange.

You leave the house a little after noon—he hears your door open and close, and the jingle of keys followed by footsteps quickly retreating. Then, your noise is gone.

John and silence do not go well together. Too quickly, the quiet closes in, and John thinks if he stays in his own home a minute longer he’ll suffocate from it—so he takes your cue, and leaves. He isn’t really sure what to do, but he has to do it anywhere else.

He gets home after you do, sore from the weight racks and full on pub food and a few pints. The sky is dark and the sidewalks are illuminated in yellow lamplight, and the air hums with the wind of cars driving in the distance. He sees your window lit up bright and warm, and the relief it fills him with is disproportionate to how anyone should feel knowing that their neighbor is home.

Where did you go during the day, he finds himself wondering? What are you making for dinner? What will you do once you’ve eaten?

John realizes he’s standing there staring at your window, and scowls at himself. He’s a fucking creep, that’s what he is. A pretty neighbor talks to him once, fucking welcomes him home like any nice person would, and suddenly he’s pining like a stupid little schoolboy.

He goes inside. Hears you in your kitchen again and convinces himself he’s ignoring it. Tries to find something to stay awake with. Has one cigar more than he’d planned for the day, and thinks at least he’ll get to go out and get more sooner—something to do with the wealth of time he didn’t ask to receive.

He’s already in bed, second shower finished, when he hears activity on the other side of the wall. He hadn’t really been falling asleep, but he’s wide awake now, and feeling like a pervert as he listens to your bath come on.

He hasn’t gone to bed with anyone in a long time, either.

John lays there in the dark, eyes open, and tries to ignore how easy it is to breathe as the water runs muffled only a few feet away. He doesn’t acknowledge the fact that he can hear again the tiny buzz of a toothbrush a little after the flow shuts off. He listens to the creak of your bed and does not think about how warm your skin must be, how softly the sheets must fall around your body.

He closes his eyes. He tries to sleep. He isn’t thinking about listening to your breathing beside him. He isn’t drifting off imagining the smell of your hair on his pillow…

He hears a tiny buzz again. Brushing your teeth a second time? No, it’s closer now…

Oh. OH.

John’s eyes fly open. Your bed creaks again. He is rigid under the covers, every muscle tensed. He breathes consciously, testing the limits of his diaphragm, counting to three between each inhale and exhale. He is desperate that his pulse remain even, that his blood refrain from rushing through his ears and other parts.

A small sound. Breathy. Low.

John slaps his hand against his thigh before it can move any further inward. He curls his fingers around the hem of his briefs, grips the fabric as if it’s going to save his damn life. Clenches his other hand into a fist, digs his nails into his palm.

What expression is on your face? What is the scent of your toothpaste on your breath?

What angle are you holding that vibrator at?

You give a low moan again.

His breath shallows out. John considers giving the wall a tap but dismisses the option immediately and ruthlessly. He will take his secret audience to the fucking grave. And he’d shoot himself before denying you this—and, he thinks shamefully, denying himself this, too.

He should get up. He should go into his living room and give you privacy. Your bed creaks again. He remembers his own mattress tends to the same disruption. He can’t move, because it would effect the same outcome as a knock—you’d know exactly how thin the walls are, know that he’s right there and that he’s only leaving after he’s already gotten an earful.

Another sound, higher. John isn’t sure he’s breathing anymore. What did your skin feel like? Would his fingers fit you better than that toy? Would his cock?

He thinks he feels a nail break skin. He tries to think of anything other than the throb of blood and heat between his legs, between your legs.

You give a sudden, high-pitched cry, one that abruptly cuts off.

John knows you’ve buried your face in your pillow to quiet yourself. His entire body twinges with the disappointment of it. He breathes so lowly as to be silent, to give space to your noise, and waits.

But the buzzing stops. Your bed shifts again, and then all is silent.

Wait. What?

Was that it?

The silence stretches. John does not move. That was it.

John does not think about how much longer he could’ve made that last. He does not think about teasing you with his hands, his lips, his tongue. Does not picture your legs hung up high on his hips.

His cock aches. He ignores it.

The gym tomorrow. And then a run. Maybe a drive to the coast, and a dip in the cold ocean.

It wouldn’t be enough, but it had to be something. John isn’t going to get a minute of sleep, and he’s going to be hearing that cut-off moan for a long, long time.

next

[waliminium]

Tailored Encounters

Pairing: Harvey Specter x Reader Warnings: implied age gap, fluff, light romantic tension, no major triggers Word count: 659 Summary: As the daughter of Frank the tailor, you’ve always been surrounded by impeccable suits and high-end clients. But none quite as captivating as Harvey Specter. When he starts making regular visits for minor suit "adjustments," you begin to notice a pattern: it’s not just the clothes he’s interested in.

The bell above the door chimed softly, and you didn’t even need to look up to know who it was. You’d recognize that confident stride anywhere.

 “Harvey,” you greeted, glancing up from the workbench where you were adjusting a hem. “Back so soon?” 

“Frank in?” he asked, his tone casual.

 You gestured toward the back room. “He’s on a delivery run. You’re early, though. The suit isn’t ready until Thursday.”

 “Actually…” Harvey adjusted his already-perfect tie, his gaze sweeping the shop. “I think the cuffs on my last suit might be a little tight. Thought I’d stop by and have them checked.”

 You raised an eyebrow. “Tight cuffs?” You’d measured that suit down to the millimeter, and you knew it was flawless. 

“Yeah,” he replied, with a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Snug.” 

“Uh-huh.” You fought back a grin, setting your tools down. “I’ll get the measuring tape.” 

He didn’t seem particularly concerned about the supposed cuff issue. Instead, he wandered around the shop, casually running a finger along the fabric bolts stacked neatly on the shelves. He lingered by the counter, watching as you prepared. 

“You’re good at this,” he said suddenly. 

You blinked, startled. “At tailoring?” 

“At everything,” he clarified, with a glint of something you couldn’t quite place in his eyes.

 The next day, the bell jingled again, and there he was—Harvey Specter, sharp as ever, holding an accessory box in his hand. 

“Forgot to pick up a tie pin yesterday,” he announced, setting the box on the counter. 

You gave him a look. “You don’t usually forget things.” 

He shrugged. “Even I’m not perfect.”

 You opened the box to inspect the pin. “This is the one you ordered last week. What’s wrong with it?” 

“Nothing.” He leaned against the counter, his smirk firmly in place. “But maybe you can suggest something better.”

 You rolled your eyes but humored him, pulling out a few alternatives. As you showed them, he asked, “So, are you always here, or do you take time off?” 

You tilted your head at the sudden change in topic. “Depends. Why?”

 “Just curious.” 

Later that evening, as you were locking up, Harvey strolled in again, no excuses this time. “You’re late,” you teased, holding the door open for him. 

“Had a meeting,” he replied smoothly. “I was hoping to catch you.” 

You let him in, flicking the lights back on. “Don’t tell me—another cuff issue?”

 “No,” he admitted, his voice softer than usual. “Just wanted to see how you’re doing.” 

You paused, caught off-guard by the sincerity in his tone. “I’m fine. Why do you ask?” 

“Because you’re always busy in here,” he said, gesturing to the shop. “Do you ever take time for yourself?” 

You shrugged, fiddling with a stray thread on your sleeve. “It’s a family business. There’s always something to do.” 

“Maybe you should let someone else handle it for a night.” 

“And do what instead?” 

He smiled, but this time it wasn’t his usual smug grin. It was softer, warmer. “Let me take you out to dinner.” 

The next day, he returned—because of course he did. This time, there were no pretenses, no accessories to inspect. 

“I meant what I said last night,” he began, leaning on the counter. “Dinner. Just you and me.”

You crossed your arms, feigning skepticism. “Is this another one of your deals? Butter up the tailor’s daughter for a discount?” 

He chuckled. “No deals. Just an honest invitation.” 

You hesitated, trying to ignore the way your heart raced. “I don’t know, Harvey. You seem like the kind of guy who always has an angle.”

 “Not this time,” he said, his voice steady. “I’ll even let you pick the place. No strings attached.” You studied him for a moment, searching for the catch, but all you saw was sincerity. Finally, you relented.

 “Fine,” you said. “But don’t expect me to go easy on you.” 

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied, his grin widening.

[rodolfoparras]

Pairing: John Price x Male reader

Cw: sexual tension

“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, Sergeant,” Price says as you search for the shaving tools located in his very small bathroom.

You just wave him off with your hand, silently cheering when you find what you were looking for before instructing him to take a seat on the toilet lid.

Price is quick to do as you say, before proceeding to try and undo the buttons on his shirt with his injured hand.

Eventually with some struggles he gets the shirt unbuttoned but has no success in taking it off.

“Here let me help” you say standing so close your knees knock together as your warm hands gently push his away.

Price only manages a nod in response trying to ignore the heat creeping up his neck ears and cheeks as you help take off his clothing.

“Are you cold?” You say, probably noticing the goosebumps rising on his skin.

“No just get on with it” he grunts out, tipping his chin up.

You just chuckle at his antics before you lather up his face, watching the grays in his beard get coated in shaving cream.

“Just the chin and -“

“And a bit of the cheeks I know” you say with a playful smile on your face as you take the razor in your hand.

“You’re one grumpy old man you know?” You say with a chuckle, eyes flickering up to see the look on his face only to realize just how close you are standing to the older man.

For a second you feel yourself getting lost in those cerulean eyes; the way his black lashes fan against his cheeks, and the way his rosy lips stand out amongst the white foam lathered onto his skin.

“Tilt your head up a bit more” you say voice breathy and strained, forcing yourself to break the eye contact to focus on the task at hand.

He does as you say and although you’re no longer looking at him, you can feel the way his eyes follow your movements as you gently drag the razor across his cheek

Once you’re done with his cheeks. you move down to his chin, slowly but surely uncovering a faded scar on his skin.

He must’ve noticed you looking at it because he starts to speak

“I got it when I first enlisted” he says voice tinted with embarrassment “fell face first, ended up with a big scar right on my face, thought a beard would do a good job at covering it up”

Before you can even register what you’re doing your thumb caresses the scarred skin.

Your eyes flicker up to meet his own and once again you loose yourself in them.

For a second it feels like he’s leaning in closer because before you know of it you’re a hair away from his lips and you completely forget what you’re doing in the first place because suddenly your hand jerks and you’re drawing blood on his cheek.

Price hisses and quickly pulls away.

“Shit! Sorry sorry,” you say, watching the way he quickly walks over to the sink.

What you don’t see is the way he tries to blink back the haze from his eyes, the way he prays and hopes the cool water is enough to sooth his blush and the way his pulse is roaring in his ears as he cleans the blood of his cheek.

After wiping his face completely he returns back to his seat.

“I’m really so-“

“It’s fine,” he grunts out in response “Just get it done and over with sergeant,” he says, this time avoiding your gaze and nervously tapping on his leg