#he would only care about sleeping in the bed for his ego. you understand

[meatsparrow]

I see a lot of ya'll and your Franco sleeping headcannons and I raise you: he sleeps literally anywhere. In his crusty suit. Does not change his clothes or get a blanket (or even worse outcome, he just strips), passes out wherever he curls up, and holds Lupara in a death grip until he awakens from his cursed slumber. You could scream in the same room as him and he wouldn't notice but if you touched his gun he'd immediately wake up and try to strangle you. It's like his teddy bear

[satoruxx]

pairing: gojo satoru x reader summary: bestfriend!satoru has returned, fluff, pining, slightly angsty bc of pining, simp satoru hehe, oblivious reader is back again, satoru loves you !! rheya's note: continuation to this drabble bc bestfriend!satoru is everything to me !!

bestfriend!satoru who insists that you have him on speed dial because "he's the most important person in your life" but really it just satisfies him to know that he's the first one you'd call if you needed anything.

bestfriend!satoru who started off being a bit of an ass when you first met. not because he was trying to be but because he's got an ego and doesn't know how to control it, until you call him out for his shit and it sends his heartbeat all out of wack.

bestfriend!satoru who doesn't trust anyone else around you. it's not out of concern or anything, oh no. but in his expert opinion only him and the people he trusts (like suguru, shoko, or nanami) should ever get within six feet of you.

bestfriend!satoru who waits outside every class for you, leaning against the wall with a bag of your favorite snacks in his hand, glasses perched low on his nose. the smile that crawls onto his face as you walk out of the classroom and join him is practically blinding.

bestfriend!satoru who grows older thinking of nothing but you. the person most important to him, the person he would move galaxies for. and no, it's not romantic or anything. he's just your best friend.

bestfriend!satoru who realizes that he's not the only one in the world who knows that you're attractive, and has to clench his fists with a scowl as he sees other men noticing you. then he has to stop and check himself because, why on earth is he mad about it?

bestfriend!satoru who starts openly staring at you because he can't even control it anymore, eyes soft and overflowing affection as he watches you indulge in silly mundane tasks. and when you turn and catch him looking all he can do is give you a dreamy little smile. he's got no excuses but he's gonna play it off like it's something you shouldn't worry about anyway.

bestfriend!satoru who makes you his number one priority, who doesn't care about anyone else when you're in front of him. and even if you aren't around, he can't bring himself to look at anyone else. if someone comes up to him on the street, mumbling something about how he's their type and they'd like his contact info, all he does is give them a breezy wave, saying "sorry. i got someone waiting for me."

bestfriend!satoru who, when you're trying to explain something and someone speaks over you, gives you a resolute "no i'm listening." and doesn't take his eyes away from you until you've said all that you needed to. don't ever think that nobody is listening to you because you always have his attention.

bestfriend!satoru who grits his teeth as you tell him about another unsuccessful date with a man who didn't even know how to treat you right. and how could they, when they don't even know how you like your coffee or what side of the bed you prefer to sleep on? they don't know what your favorite movie snack is or about your obsession with plants or your most precious pair of fluffy socks. not the way he does.

bestfriend!satoru who has to hold himself back during your ranting, who has to keep himself from just letting go and spilling that you weren't going to find someone who loved you more than he did. to stop himself from leaning down and kissing you so hard it takes your breath away, because he's wanted to do it since he was sixteen. he was just too stupid to understand it back then.

bestfriend!satoru who chooses to wait instead, knowing that he'll be stuck with these feelings for the rest of his life, so he'd rather wait for you. because he'd hate himself if he made you uncomfortable, and if he lost the relationship he had with you now over his silly little heart. no instead, he'll keep proving himself, staying by your side and showing you even just of fraction of the devotion he knows he has for you, if it means that you'll be by his side. and hoping that one day, maybe, you'd tell him you feel the same.

[deathofacupid]

⤷ in which you're the only one soft!sukuna treats this way .ᐟ

soft!sukuna who took forever to say "i love you" for the first time, and thank his ego for that.

when you'd said it for the first time, soft!sukuna couldn't do anything but let his face heat up, avoiding eye contact as if his life depended on it. of course, you knew his nature. you told him he didn't have to say it back, even though (on the inside, at least) you were hoping so much that he would. you just wanted him to know.

and god forbid, once you'd said it that first time, you couldn't stop.

soft!sukuna didn't end up saying it that day, but it didn't really matter. he showed you his love in different ways.

soft!sukuna, who shows you his said love in his own ways, remembers everything about you. the things you said once, then forgot. from your dreams in life to what you had for lunch last tuesday - if it has to do with you, the chances are, he'll remember it.

soft!sukuna who gets up earlier than you do (he doesn't enjoy sleeping in much), and on his morning walk, picks you a single flower from the estate's garden and leaves it on his bare pillow, right next to yours. soft!sukuna doesn't like it when you make such a big deal about it. you see it as you wake up, while he's showering. it's just a flower, in his view, but it makes you happy, so he'll do it for the rest of his life.

soft!sukuna who doesn't really understand human dating customs much, but he'll go along with it - well, most of the time. for example, when you first met him, you wanted to take it slow, so you went on some "test" dates. soft!sukuna was going to make you his anyways, so he thought to entertain it.

the idea of going on "dates" – pre-mating trials to assess compatibility, seemed odd to him. what he wanted, he got. there was no "testing" of anything.

you and soft!sukuna who had some communication issues at the start. he didn't get indirect communication - subtle cues, body language, or "reading between the lines" to express interest or disinterest. soft!sukuna never had a problem with saying what was on his mind, but for you, some things you didn't think really had to be said.

soft!sukuna who's the single most possessive and jealous man you've ever known. somebody looked at you the wrong way? they're a waste of space. he'll dispose of them later. or, hey, did their tone sound a little off? doesn't matter, they should've known better. maybe next time. oh, wait - there won't be a next time.

in fact, this one time, when a guy hit on you at the bar, you had to drag him out, begging and pleading him to not resort to murder.

soft!sukuna who can't bring himself to say no to you, because that pretty little pout tugs on his heart-strings. he thinks it's pathetic, how you've hexed him.

instead, all he can manage is huffy, begrudged "fine."

soft!sukuna who loves cuddles so much. he loves when you rub his back or stomach, not that he'd ever verbally say so. he may be soft for you, but there's still pride.

instead, whenever you're on the bed, he'll look at you a certain way, and you'll know what to do. he loves your touch, so soft and gentle. soft!sukuna has never had anything like it before. he doesn't know how he's lived all this time without it.

soft!sukuna who can be very blunt at times, unintentionally hurting your feelings. he doesn't mean it, he's just not used to being careful with his words. he never says sorry, but the second you get that pained expression in your eyes, mouth parted slightly, soft!sukuna is basically on his knees apologizing. it's nothing short of humiliating, to him, but he'd rather be humiliated than apart from you.

soft!sukuna who said those three words to you, for the first time, during an argument. you'd wanted him to start killing less, you couldn't bear all the lost lives of the innocent. he didn't like that very much. either way, it had escalated quickly.

but the second soft!sukuna saw those tears sliding down your cheeks, he had pulled you flush against his chest, murmuring soft apologies.

"okay, okay. don't cry. i'll do what you want. i love you."

how they slipped out so naturally, as if he weren't planning on saying it in the first place, it surprised the both of you. but when you looked at him, eyes wide with both love and shock, he decided it was the right thing.

soft!sukuna didn't regret it at all.

because both for and to you, soft!sukuna was the sweetest, most gentle man you'd ever known.

all banner credits to @anitalenia and @dollywons .ᐟ

[annwrites]

⸻ tell me i'm your national anthem. part three. ⸻

· pairing: homelander x collegestudent!reader · type: part of a series · summary: you tell john about your childhood & the things you still want despite it, & he tells you about his, knowing once & for all that you’re meant to belong to him & him alone. · word count: 2,409

You’re just beginning to drift off when you hear a soft knock against the glass.

You groan into your pillow and could swear you hear a deep chuckle from the other side of the door in response.

You slowly rise—head spinning from exhaustion—and pad over to the door, silently flipping the lock before throwing yourself back down face-first into the mattress, pulling a thin blanket over your bare legs.

John enters the room, staring down at you, arms folded behind his back. “What? No dinner for your man tonight?”

You mentally roll your eyes at him calling himself that yet again, but don’t reply to that particular comment. “I already ate. I’m going to sleep.”

He huffs, glancing around your small apartment, then back to you. “Guess I’ll just climb in there with y—”

“Not with your suit still on you aren’t,” you mumble into your pillow.

He raises a brow in interest, smirking, surprised you’re not trying to argue otherwise. Maybe that’s the key to getting his way, then, until you start caving all on your own: take advantage when you have no energy to fight back. When you’re soft and tired and at his will to do with as he pleases.

“See you’re finally starting to see things my way,” he states smugly.

You roll over then, looking at him. “You’re not wearing your outside clothes in my bed. It’s not a come-on.”

He toes off his boots, then settles his hands on his hips, as if he’s debating something internally.

It doesn’t take much effort for you to understand what.

His suit is his metaphorical armor. You still have yet to understand why he’s so insecure, though—why his ego is so fragile. That’s the one thing about him that should be ‘untouchable’, so to speak. Then again, being physically bulletproof doesn’t have any bearing on what’s inside.

And what’s inside seems, still, like a little boy living in a man’s body, to you.

He needs to feel wanted. He’d seemed pleased last night when you’d talked about seeing him again—like you were finally giving him what he’s been desiring since that day he first set eyes upon you in your university’s auditorium: your willing attention.

Your eyes flutter closed, throwing a bone his way. “I’m cold.”

And that’s all it takes for him to remove his suit—leaving him clad only in a pair of dark-blue briefs. And it makes him want to crawl out of his fucking skin.

But you’re all but finally asking for him. You want him. You’ve finally come around.

He knew you would. No woman can resist. Not even you. Young and pretty you may be, but you’re still not educated enough to know what’s in your best interest, clearly. Best interest being him. That’s the problem with all these liberal ‘schools’. They don’t teach what they used to: love of ones country. Instead, they’d tried to turn you against him.

But he can still pull you back. It seems like he already has as you lie there, waiting for him.

So, he climbs into bed next to you, pulling the covers over himself, and then he pulls you into his arms, holding you against his chest.

He smiles softly when you gently press your palms to his pecks.

“I like you better like this,” you say, cuddling closer, wondering how he’ll react to it.

He tightens his arms around you then and you squeak.

“John, you’re crushing me.”

He loosens his hold, feeling the least bit pathetic.

He’s done this before—held a woman so tightly that it resulted in her life being cut short he was that fucking desperate for affection.

He lets you go entirely then, rolling onto his back, hating himself.

He doesn’t need anyone. Why can’t he get that through his goddamn head? Why the fuck should he care what a weak, useless, lonely little human like you thinks about him—a god? He should just kill you instead. He does that, and you’re no longer all he’s able to fucking think about all day—to a disturbingly obsessive degree. It’d be as simple as—

You scoot closer, sliding a warm, dainty hand up his chest until it’s resting gently against his cheek and his mind immediately goes blank—his face twitching as he fights back tears.

Maybe your superpower is just…comforting maternal gestures, then.

At least with you he won’t have to compete with another to receive them. Unlike Madelyn…and Teddy. The little shit. Taking what should’ve been—had been—his.

But you? There is no competition. He assumes, at least.

“Do you have a boyfriend?” He asks quietly.

You pop an eye open, staring at him as he stares up at the ceiling, his face entirely void of emotion.

Lying would be useless, you’re sure. He works for Vought—or with—you’re sure they could have a comprehensive background check done on you in a handful of minutes…if he hasn’t already done as much. You have half-a-mind to ask, but you’re not sure you want the answer to such a question.

“No.”

His lip twitches, turning upwards into a smile, which leaves you feeling uneasy.

“So you’re all mine, then.”

You open both eyes, blinking at him, heartrate beginning to climb. “I—”

He shakes his head slightly. “No. Wasn’t a question.”

He turns back onto his side then, sliding a heavy hand over your hip, holding you possessively in his grip. “You said you’d tell me about ‘her’ tonight.”

You brush your thumb against his cheek, eyes drifting down to his chest, not wishing to meet his own now.

You want to go back to his comment—one he’s made more than once now, just in varying ways—about…ownership. He surely doesn’t mean it.

But every time you’ve tried to assure yourself of anything concerning him: that he won’t come back, that he won’t really hurt you—you’ve been wrong.

Maybe you’re not as good at reading people as you like to think you are. Most of all him.

You just still don’t understand why you’re a subject of fascination for him yet. Like you’d told yourself the other day…what’re you compared to any of the other women in his life? But maybe that’s it, then. Just like him, they’re forced to put on a mask, not letting anyone in deeper than surface-level, lest the plastic cracks.

It seems like he just…wants to connect.

No wonder you’ve been so tired the last couple of days—constantly wracking your mind, trying to understand him. As if it’s even possible. He’s been an actor all his life.

You sigh.

“I’m sure you won’t…be able to relate. I’m envious of you in that: your perfect childhood, and life. I wish I’d had that…”

You trail off for a moment.

“My mother,” you say quietly. “I haven’t seen her since I was eighteen and left for college. Half the reason I even went was to get away from her. I didn’t care about student loans and living in debt if it got me out of that house. For the first couple of years I lived in a dorm room…and it was the first time I’d ever known peace. No more walking on eggshells, no more fighting, or being called horrible names, or having to cautiously measure what mood I think she’s in each day—or hour—lest I provoke her.”

You slide your hand down to his neck, softly curling your fingertips inward. “I can’t…”

You pause, tears stinging your eyes.

He pulls you closer to him, silently encouraging you to continue.

“Yet I still feel like I can’t get away from her. Not even here. Not even hundreds of miles from home—if you can even call it that. Because she’s always with me. In my head. Beating me down, making me feel worthless—like…all my self-worth still needs to hinge upon her and how she feels. If she’s happy. When did it become my job to look after her, and not the other way around? And even when I did…she still abused me for it. Nothing I ever did was right.”

You bite your lip trying to fight back tears.

“When I was young, I wanted what we’re all supposed to once we grow up: a husband, a home, babies. And then I got older, and because of her I tried to convince myself otherwise. Tried to pound into my head that I didn’t want kids. That what I really wanted was a hysterectomy. That way, I’d never have to risk turning into her: becoming the monster of a mother that she was.”

You ignore the tears running down your cheeks now. “But it’s how I’m different from her that matters most. She’s taken enough away from me. Stolen enough of my life. I want children. I deserve to be a mother. To have a family. To make my own. She doesn’t get to have that, too. She doesn’t.”

Your chin wobbles and you let out a small sob. “I’m sorry.”

He only holds you closer, unsure what to even say. He’s never known how to comfort others. He’s always expected it to be provided to him instead. But only from women. And only in secret. Because he can’t be seen as some fucking weakling.

Because he’s not. He’s not.

He is the strongest man in all the world. The most superior. The master of his race.

You continue to softly cry, and it’s then that he makes a decision, knowing that if it ends terribly—with you emasculating him, or betraying his trust—well, it will take no effort from him to rectify the situation. But he’s sure that you won’t, because, little-by-little, you’ve shown your true colors: how maternal you truly are.

You just said it yourself. And it’d sounded like the most beautiful fucking music to his ears to hear: how desperate you are for a child.

You want someone to look after? Well, here he is. He needs your love. He can admit it now. To himself, at least. Even if it tastes like rancid vinegar to do so.

“I didn’t have it: a perfect childhood. It’s all fucking bullshit. You want to know how I was really raised?”

You grow quiet then, only occasionally sniffling as you slip your fingers into his hair, gently stroking his soft, blond strands.

“I grew up in a lab like a rat. These…doctors kept me locked in a sterile white room with nothing but a blanket for comfort. Not even a bed. Not a pillow. No toys. No TV. Nothing. All while they performed test after fucking test after��”

He clenches his teeth. “Watching me every second of every day. No privacy. Treating me like some…sideshow attraction. Burning me and laughing at me and just—watching.”

Your chin wobbles.

“I never knew my parents because I was designed in a test tube. I was created to be this. The greatest superhero the world has ever known. They tried to make me perfect. And I am,” he tacks on.

He’s unsure whether he’s trying to convince himself of that, or you.

“But I’m just—”

“Lonely,” you say, interrupting him with tears slipping down your cheeks—your heart shattering, for him.

You wrap your arms around his neck then, finally understanding him. Finally seeing a shred of humanity behind his ‘tough-man’ facade.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” you say between sobs. “I am so sorry for what they did to you.”

All you can picture in your mind’s eye is a sweet, blond little boy sitting in a room all alone, waiting for someone to come for him. To care. To hold, or love him. For them to stop hurting him, all while he was left to wonder what he did wrong to deserve such horrible treatment.

How…how could anyone do that? To a baby? To a little boy?

You shouldn’t care. Not after what he did to you just two nights ago, but you can’t help it. Because in this moment you just see a broken man that has nowhere else to turn.

He slides impossibly closer, burying his face between your breasts, quietly crying.

You shoosh him, running your fingers through his soft hair.

Here lies the most powerful—invincible—man in all the world in your arms—a man who has always seemed a larger than life titan…somehow he feels so small now. You’d been right to see him as just a scared little boy looking for someone to comfort him. And it serves only to break your heart all the more.

 “I’m so sorry, baby,” you say.

And it reminds him of a loving mother consoling her child. Something he’s never had the gift of having.

He mouths it against your breast then, just…wanting to try it—to know how it feels: ‘mommy’.

And it comes to him naturally. Like…this is meant to be.

And he knows in that moment with absolute certainty that you’re the one. You’re supposed to be his. Meant to belong to him alone. You were born to.

He’ll kill anyone who even attempts at coming between the two of you. He’ll rip him in fucking half with his bare hands just to keep you. Just to show you this newfound devotion.

And he’s sure you’d be thankful for it.

Your mother expected you to do everything for her? He can show you the opposite: so long as you love him, he can give you the same.

He’ll take care of you. He’ll make sure you don’t go without anymore. He has more than enough money for the two of you. Is willing to expend the effort to keep you as his sole property.

It’s all he’s ever wanted: to be loved. And now here you are in his arms with an open, maternal heart meant to love him.

Besides…how could you ever dream of doing better than the most singular and superior man in all the world? No other pathetic human specimen could ever compete.

You’ll be thanking him one day for having come into your life. For saving you. But that’s what he does: he saves people. And it seems you—his new purpose—need him most of all.

Before long, you’ll see just how much.

Before long…you won’t have any idea how to live without him. Already he feels the reverse: no idea how to live without you.

Not that he’ll have to, because you’re not going anywhere.

If you tried, he’d simply follow, because there’s nowhere you could hide that he wouldn’t find you.

You’re his.

All his.

His girl.

His woman.

Mommy.

[c4rvingmyname]

Asmo's (Drunken) Love

tags: asmo/MC, GN MC, literally sleeping sleeping together, short & sweet

words: 774

summary: MC takes care of a tipsy Asmo

I posted this old ass fic a few months ago here, idk why I'm just now getting around to posting it here lol.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Asmo stumbled alongside them, his hand wrapped around MC's wrist. They weren't sure he was fully conscious, which would definitely be understandable given how much he had drunk.

Each time he almost fell, they would put their hands on Asmo's waist, steadying him, and he would giggle as if he was being touched inappropriately every time.

“Asmo?” MC muttered, making sure he was still awake.

“Hm?” Asmo hummed in response, his head slumping.

“Let's get you to bed, okay?” they said, helping Asmo walk to his bed. It was much bigger than the one they stayed in—it was literally a princess bed.

They hadn't been in his room much, other than a few brief visits, much to Asmo's dismay, who invited them for a “sleepover” every other day. Though they were sure there wouldn't be much sleeping, who knows?

Asmo was very sweet if you looked past his blatant facade of narcissism.

MC pulled back the covers of his bed, helping him lie down gently (as he would plop down hard without their guidance no doubt). He sighed, turning his head away from MC.

Asmo always raved about not going to bed in “outside clothes” to avoid dirty sheets, but MC thought it would be a little intrusive to change his clothing.

MC put his shoes down after they slid them off, then covered him up, brushing some of his hair from his face. Mostly to make sure he wasn't hot, but they also enjoyed touching him. Something they would never admit, as it would only fuel his ego. How much bigger could it even get?

“I like when you touch me like that,” Asmo muttered, making them retract their hand. They were sure he wasn't aware of what was going on, or at least he hadn't been a minute ago.

He wasn't faking it again, was he? Asmo was prone to pretending he was helpless just for physical affection he could have simply asked for. Like he already always asked for.

You'd think by now he'd be more upfront with his true feelings, wouldn't you?

“Do you feel okay?” MC asked, adjusting the cover over Asmo. “If you feel well enough, I can go back to my room.”

Asmo nodded, turning his head to look at them. “But I don't want you to leave.” Asmo barely had his eyes open, they were glazed over, and his makeup was smudged. “I'd like it a lot if you stayed with me,” he continued.

MC couldn't really say no to him, not when he looked so cute and needy. They might even like him a lot better like this, all flushed and sweeter than usual.

“Fine, I can stay. But you have to behave; this is strictly for sleeping.”

In less than a minute of MC lying down in the bed with him, Asmo was already clinging onto them, nuzzling into their chest, and his hands digging into their side.

His bed was just as soft as his skin; MC would likely get hot sleeping here, they mused. Asmo did say he slept naked for “breathability,” which would explain how he's perfectly comfortable. MC could feel his heartbeat, causing their own to speed up and sync with his.

Asmo’s eyes fluttered open for a moment, and he managed a sleepy smile. “I wish you slept here with me more…” he mumbled. “It's so much more comfortable when you're with me.”

He tilted his head up, looking up at MC with a very dreamy, unfocused look. “I really love you, do you love me back? Say you love me back,” he said, his hand settling on MC’s stomach to rest.

“I do love you, Asmo, don't worry,” they replied, punctuating it with a gentle kiss on his forehead. “I just don't love the front you put up.”

“I just want you to love me, is all I need, okay? Forget about the rest…” He whispered, out of exhaustion. “You and I… forever? Right? You'll never leave me?” He asked, intertwining his soft hand with theirs.

MC smiled, letting it go for now, resting their head on top of his to get comfortable. “I promise I won't leave you. Even after I die, I'll haunt you.”

Asmo hummed, reaching for their hand again. “That sounds nice,” he mused. “If only you could.”

MC ran their fingers through his hair, watching as his breathing slowed as he (finally) fell asleep. Asmo was always so open about his feelings—yet when it came to the emotions he thought would taint his perfection, he was rather dishonest.

One thing MC didn't doubt though, was that Asmo did truly love them.

[koolades-world]

Animal lover Mc!

y'all one of the first questions I had when I started playing obey me was "what is going to happen to my pets while I'm gone??" obviously I would find a way to bring them with me I will NOT be separated from my babies just for some hot demon men

currently I have three cats and a dog, all rescues and eight foster kittens, like, who's gonna feed that many critters for the whole durations of the exchange program not to mention I would miss them!

the first question mc is asking is "where is my entourage?" and when Dia asks what, they're gonna continue to describe their pets in a way only a pet owner would understand. Lucifer understands because he himself is a pet owner

"Welcome to the Devildom! Any questions?"

"where is my entourage?"

"What are you talking about?"

"you know, my zoo? my shadows? my cutie babies? my sillies? my children?"

"Oh, do you mean your pets?"

"Lucifer how did you understand that"

life in the HoL is about to get ten times more chaotic let me tell you

since my dog is a rescue we don't know too much about her past but she does not like tall men and omg what a coincidence! the HoL is all tall men!!1! anyone that doesn't look like me is a red flag to her she's super sweet though once you give her time (one time my school bestie shook a posterboard at her like three years ago and she still remember it to this day and hates him for it)

she warms up eventually if you respect her and listen to her whims but girl... we all know Lucifer would be too prideful to conform to what a dog wants that isn't Cerberus. Satan is a cat person, Beel is a literal giant, Levi would be afraid. she would def like Mammon since he kinda looks like my dad, Belphie is always asleep and therefore can't be a threat to her, and everyone loves Asmo! including me and my dog!

idk about other dogs but my dog just loves to beg and I give in every time. Beel is always eating and probably will give her a little too since he also seems like the puppy eyes would work on him.

I feel like dogs love Levi but he's probably afraid

"AWUBCUOBWVCGJ MC HELP"

"Levi we talked about this"

"THAT THING IS THE REAL DEMON"

"Are we talking about the same dog? The one that gets excited every time someone arrives home? The one that does a cute little roll over trick? The one that warms your feet on cold nights?"

"DEMON DOG"

"She's just looking at you"

"IT GOT CLOSER WVADUVJIOSUBSDFO"

"Not helping you"

all of my personal cats are kinda jerks lol... don't get me wrong I love them but like if you aren't used to them (or if they aren't used to you) you will get bitten. two of them have valid excuses, one is an old man, a curmudgeon if you will, and one is a blind kitten so she doesn't take well to new sounds, especially new voices. but my other cat, about three years old now is literally just a brat LOL he once attacked me in my sleep cause i moved a little too much love him tho

just cat things in general, they knock over everything on counters and shelves, they zoom around in the middle of the night, they attack ankles! Satan is in love but Lucifer nearly kicks them

the middle cat loves to sleep in my bed with me, like right on top of me. on my head, on my chest, on my stomach, on my shoulder, on my face. so like, there's no room for anyone else in my bed. yes there might physically be room but my cat's ego is so big there isn't room for another

sorry hot demon men my cat comes first

Belphie would make an excellent pillow for all cats, he's warm, he doesn't move much and he won't care

"Do you know where Belphie is?"

"My room, but don't bother."

"Why?"

"The cats have taken him as their own"

"THAT SHOULD BE ME"

The more Asmo doesn't want cats in his room the more the cats will want to enter his room

omg Satan is about to be your bestie so much quicker than in the original arc. I love the love and care that was placed into befriending Satan but this is the quickest way into his heart

"You must be the exchange student. I... what's in there?"

"My cats"

"Lucifer is letting you have them in the house?"

"Yes?"

"You're coming with me. Bring the cats."

"What does that mean? Do you like cats?"

"there are no words to describe my love for cats as deeply as I care for them. they are magnificent creatures. you have single handily done what I have tried to do for millennia. you are my best friend now"

"We will get along just fine"

This isn't even mentioning all of the strange Devildom critters Mc would def befriend

They drag a different brother along each time to feed weird animals that show up in their yard

Feeding stray cats with Satan!!

Dia would totally take them on expeditions to go see Devildom animals in the wild even during school days

Speaking of that, Dia also makes regular trips to the HoL to visit any and all pets

He will never hear the end of it from Barb oh god he will die from all the animal fur he brings back with him

I love rodents but Barb does not...

Nobody tell him that Mc may or may not have a rodent

Mc rescues all of the rats that Barb tries to eliminate and sets them free far away from the castle

the possibilities are endless with this might make a part two

[jaebeomsbitch]

Puppy (R.R) Smut

Pt.I

Summary: Sending Roman a present turns into a sexy phone call

Warnings: MINORS DNI! Masturbation, degradation, phone sex?, guided masturbation, dom/sub dynamics.

Authors Note: God was so fun to write this. The virgin Eddie fic is like 90% done!

Roman was used to meeting the world with witty quips and that smug smile on his face. He never registered it as awkward as it is. Everyone around him could see how he was shouldering the pain away. Shoving against it like a football player during practice. 

He doesn’t see you again until the day of his fathers funeral. Until you’re getting the police to open up the fence and drag him up off the floor, pulling him into his Escalade and sitting in complete silence as his driver takes you both to his penthouse.

You gently clean up his wounds, undress him, hand him some pain killers and water then tuck him into bed with a kiss to his forehead. He doesn’t understand it. Why would you randomly come back to take care of him like this? You’d just left like it was nothing, it really was nothing. It was some flirting at best but here you were toeing off your heels and digging through his closet for a sleep shirt. 

You knew he’d never have the courage to ask you to stay. So you slip off your dress and put on his shirt sliding into the cool sheets of his bed and pressing him against your chest like a mother would to a child. It’s not long until he’s uncontrollably sobbing in your arms. He babbles incoherently as you rub his back. You hold him for what seems like hours until his tears are dried and the shirt you borrowed is full of snot. The bandaid on his face falling from his face. 

You stand up pulling a bandaid out from your phone case. You’d have it there for emergencies, in case your heels cut up your ankles. He sits there sniffling trying to push your hand away as you place a blue bandaid on him. It’s got a fat puppy all over it, like snoopy but different. 

You let him tucker himself out until he’s passed out on his bed, his fingers clutched to the shirt you’re wearing, red nosed, and puffy eyed. 

When you wake up he acts like nothing happened but he’s dressed differently. He’s no longer adorned with opulent suits but instead in baggy shorts and a T-shirt. He sips his coffee, that same smug smile adorning his face as he asks “ So how’d you sleep last night?”

You smile, seeing past his façade, seeing that scared little boy from last night. “Better with my kitten” you say in an annoying tone slipping back into teasing each other. You hug him tightly, almost spilling his hot coffee onto your arm. He’s trying not to laugh. 

“Well I’m not a kitten, I’m a tiger if anything. I’ll fuckin’ rip you to shreds” he scoffs sipping his bitter drink, pushing you off of him even though he craves the heat of your skin. 

“Fine, you’re my puppy then” you laugh, opening his refrigerator and grabbing an orange juice. He doesn’t say anything, he eyes you wearily. Sipping his drink but internally his heart pounds against his ribs.

You sip your drink watching him as he watches you like you’re in an old western movie ready to draw your guns. You silently finish your juice washing the cup as Roman makes a comment about how only peasants wash their dishes. 

Before he knows it you’re dressed and ready to slip out of his apartment and probably out of his life again. A part of him wants to beg for you to stay but his fragile ego won’t let him. He’d begged Gerri to stay and she threw it in his face. He couldn’t risk being hurt again and yet as you leave reminding him to call a doctor to stitch him up, his heart aches. 

He didn’t get to ask your name again. Miss Business and Pleasure… He wants to know who you are. Even if you’re just some low level employee at Waystar trying to kiss ass to climb the ladder. He sits on his his couch like Bella in Twilight, memories of the funeral, of his fuck up eating away at his soul. Any obligation to follow your orders and eat breakfast is long gone since you left. He feels that ache in his stomach and welcomes it. He deserves the pain for being useless. Everything was bullshit but most of all Roman was bullshit. 

He was always a pawn in a game he could never win. The court jester sent to fuck clients like a common whore despite his inability to get hard. 

Then there’s a package at the front desk. His mind racing, what could it be? Maybe another condolence gift, fuck em. Who cares? His father was dead and he was finally free of the cage and yet he could feel the familiar press of metal against his skin. He can practically see his siblings taunting him for being a weakling, dog bowl full of chow and water ready for him to dig in. 

The Gojo deal goes through he feels empty and free but chained… to what? Who knows. Like he'll never truly be free of the dog cage he grew accustomed to. The package sits in a pile until he finally decides to open them. Most of them have cards obviously written by personal assistants by rich fucks who can’t take the two seconds to write ‘sorry your dad died :/’ followed by bottles of expensive booze. Like that’s cured the crater in his chest. Maybe they wanted him to become an alcoholic. “34 year old Roman Roy found dead, choked on his own vomit,” he could almost imagine it. Taste the bile in his throat and the burn of the liquor in his chest. 

He gets to the last package opening it without a care. He rips through the tissue paper, the unfamiliar feeling on his fingertips before he registers what it is. It’s a blush pink collar. Why would someone send him a dog collar? Wait, this one was bigger and thicker… there’s a golden name plate that hangs from the middle of it, “Puppy” it reads. The metal jingles as he holds it up closer to his face.

“What the fuck?” He mumbles. 

Fingers searching through the packet until his index finger hits a corner of a paper. He pulls it out, a pink letter addressed to Roman well… to Puppy. He rips open the paper. There’s nothing on the paper, well no words it’s a phone number. 

Before he can think he’s dialing the number like he’s just a normal schmuck. He should probably at least Google search it but the phone is ringing and his heart pounds in his throat. He knows who this is from. 

“Romulus, to what do I owe the pleasure?” You say picking up on the third ring. 

“It’s you” he says, taken aback. 

“So it is. I take it you loved the present” you say, smirk on your lips. That familiar smug tone in your voice. 

“You want me to bark and sit on command too?” He asks, joking around with you. 

“I take it you didn’t see the back of the card” you reply. His hands go back to the note flipping it. 

“Sex dwarf by Soft Cell” it reads and then “send me a photo of it on, Puppy” all in your hand writing. 

“As if I’d do what you told me” he scoffs.

You laugh, “Why do I have a feeling you’re already hard imagining yourself on your knees for me? Crawling around your kitchen on all fours all pretty for me” 

“Seems like someone’s got a sick fetish. You’d like to break me down or something? Too bad I’m more emotionally stable that your fucking Psychologist,” Roman says. 

“We’ll see,” You say smugly over the phone before hanging up. Roman’s heart pounds, what the fuck did that mean? Would he see you again? Would he really have to wear the collar?

Weeks go by, his fingers itch to call you again. To hear your voice even over the shitty receiver of his pissed on phone. He doesn’t though, there’s a certain challenge between you going on. Like whoever contacts the other loses and yet, he knew if you reached out first you’d still somehow be winning. It was Roman who had all to lose in your invisible competition. Maybe it was all in his head?

There’s another box brought to him, this one a matching leash to his collar. His body can’t help it. He flushes with color imagining your red bottomed heels digging into his back, pressing his face to his tiled floor as you call him sick names, the leather biting at his skin on his neck. Before he knows it he’s walking over to his bedroom taking out the collar and matching leash and touching himself imagining it. His head tipped back, imagining the curl of your lips, that look of disgust on your face and then he’s coming all over his sheets. The collar and leash dripping with cum. He takes a photo and sends it to you waiting for a response like a puppy waiting for his owner. 

“See, I knew you liked it” you text, and then it's radio silence. Until his phone is ringing through the silent room. His fingers shaking, pants still down his thighs. 

“If it isn’t my owner,” He says sarcastically, fingers smudging the cum into the leather. 

“Put it on Romulus,” You say sternly over the phone. 

“That’s fucking-” He tries to protest. 

“Put the collar on like a good boy or I’ll have to punish you,” You say. 

“Oh I’m fucking trembling, what could you possibly do?” He says sarcastically. 

“I’m not asking again. Put the collar on or you’re never hearing from me again Romulus,” You say with a finality. He gulps, weirdly turned on by your threat despite jerking himself off less than five minutes ago. He puts the phone down, hands grabbing the collar and tightening it on his neck, his cum smearing all over his throat. 

“I’m not doing it,” He says, trying to sound stern, hand already playing with himself as he grabs the phone. You don’t say anything, his hand grabbing his hard cock and stroking himself slowly. 

“Mhm sure you're not,” You say condescendingly. 

“I’m holding it in my hand,” He quips back, fingers teasing the head of his cock before going back to stroke himself. He tries to keep his voice steady and breath even but the collar is doing more to him than he’d like to admit. 

“I know you Puppy. I know you’re touching yourself right now, imagining me telling how fucking disgusting you are. You’re a sick fuck Roman. Touching yourself while wearing my collar, you want to be owned don’t you? Want me to force you to admit how much you like this,” You say seductively. 

You hear him shudder as he hears those words. You hear him moan as he imagines you towering over him. Calling him your filthy and disgusting puppy. 

“Shit” He says, trying to hide the lust in his voice. 

“How’s it feel to touch yourself with your puppy tag bouncing on your throat? You’re my fucking toy to play with Rome. Let me hear how good it feels to fuck your hand while thinking of me,” You say. 

“You’re disgusting,” he says, not even trying to hide the fact that he’s now wearing the collar. You can hear as he tries to hide how much you’re turning him on, his face flushed.  You can hear the jingling of his collar and a puff of breath with his every movement.

“How did you know I was wearing it?” He asks you.

“Cause you want to be called a good boy,” You chuckle. Chills trickle down his spine, his face red as he strokes himself faster, teeth clenched trying to hold back his moans. He can’t hold back for much longer. You know you can just keep driving him further and further and he knows too. He’s at your mercy, has been since the first night you met. 

“You’re right,” he says. His voice is shaky and weak and he’s breathing very heavily.

“You’re disgusting Roman. You’re a sick fuck, God if you’re father knew you were jerking off with a dog collar on he’d smack you in the face,” you say into your phone. You knew he liked degradation from the way his breath hitched over the receiver.

“Let me hear how good your hand is making you feel Puppy,” You command.

“F-Fuck,” He moans, the jingling becoming more aparrent. His moans are mixed with the squelching of his hand on his cock. His precum dripping out, stomach tensing as he feels the burn in his belly. 

His eyes are closed. You can almost hear the blood coursing through your veins as his breaths get heavier. God what you wouldn’t do to see him right now. Cock in his hand, thighs quivering, head tilted upward trying to hold onto a semblance of himself as he fucked his fist as you tell him what to do. 

“Oh God,” is all he can manage to say. “Fuck- Fuck– m’disgusting,” He pants, the tingle at the base of his spine feeling electrifying. 

“That’s it pup, you’re close aren’t you? Let me hear you. Fuck, wish I could see those big puppy eyes begging me to let you cum” You say breathily. The jingle of his collar ringing in your ears.

His orgasm builds and builds until his thighs are trembling like he just ran a marathon, a mixture of moans and curse words spilling out his lips. He’s in pure heaven, hand stroking over himself as he spills onto his thighs, eyes rolling back, mouth open as moans spill out. 

“F-fuuuck” he pants as he relaxes against his bed. His phone pressed to his ear. 

His phone still pressed against his ear, he struggles to catch his breath. He listens to his own heavy breathing. He can feel the chills going down his spine as his chest rises and falls. His breathing is shallow, short and fast as his brain is completely fried. He can’t think about anything other than the pleasure he just felt. 

“Oh God,” he says again, trying to find words to show how he’s feeling. But he can’t say anything else. Not after what you just did to him.

“Good boy, Romey” you coo. 

“Fuck you,” He pants. 

“You wish,” You chuckle. 

“Now, follow your commands and send me a photo,” You say not letting him answer as you hang up immediately. Roman’s brain is complete mush. Fuck you, who did you think you were demanding a photo? A part of him also wanted to comply. The deep rooted feeling of wanting approval gnawing at him. Why did those two words from you send a shiver down his spine? God was he doing this? What if you sent this photo to someone else? 

Nonetheless ten minutes later your phone buzzes with a text. It’s a photo of Roman, his face cropped out but his neck adorned with that pink collar covered in his cum, his torso covered with a dress shirt, slacks down just enough for his cock to be free. He completely ruined his expensive suit, it’s all painted in his cum. 

“Good boy,” You reply. 

Roman had found himself in a completely different dog cage. One without his siblings cackling at him and forcing him to bark on command. Now you were outside the cage, images of your body clad in lingerie, insults passing through your lips, taunting him from outside of his metaphorical cage. Roman was your wholly devoted Puppy even if he wasn’t willing to fully admit it. 

[apollodrider]

APOLLO X (GN) READER

warning — Dark themes ;

yandere, obsession , kidnapping , etc.

THE GODS were always twisted . They've done wrong to others , they've killed , and they've fallen inlove . 'What is so wrong about being inlove?' One may wonder .

A god's love is something a mortal can't take . For , the love of a god is something sick and twisted .

The gods are narcissistic , they have huge egos , and view themselves as perfect .

And what about Apollo? Of course , he is the same .

Apollo is rather confused right now . He clenched his fist , sitting on the luxurious chair in his room .

Apollo can't get you out of his head , he's absolutely smitten with you . He can tell he is. He already has a ton of women in his harem .. Plus , He has both men and women in a line for his love , yet why are you not one of those people?

Why does he even bother about you? Why can't he get you out of his head so much? He hates it , he hates that he's hopelessly obsessed with you .

Apollo needs you , he needs you in his arms , he just longs to have you in his arms . You were a beautiful thing he just longed to have his hands on . Although you refuse to love him now , surely you can't reject him forever? He just had to wait , and then.. you'll definitely come to him yourself.

APOLLO HAD waited , he waited for what felt like years to come to him . Was the wait worth it?

No , he had found you with another , laughing together as you both watched the sun set.

It should have been him , He should be the one who would laugh beside you . He should be the one to make you laugh .

That was when .. Apollo had finally realized it . Your beauty was deadly , it attracted others even when you belonged to him .

Apollo wanted to snap on the spot and rip out your 'lover's' head . So , why didn't he? Simply because he didn't want to see you cry , he didn't want to see you terrified . He could never bear the feeling of finding out that he hurt you in some way .

Though , he'd still kill them in secret . He'll kill others for you , he wishes you wouldn't find out of that though .

Apollo smiled , stepping into your room . He slowly stepped towards your sleeping figure , careful not to wake you up .

He sat down on the edge of your bed , moving his hand to brush the strands of hair that covered your eyes . You slept silently and peacefully .

Or so you thought.

Apollo's smile turned into a frown as he picked you up , carrying you bridal style .

If only you were the one who came to him , if you did.. he wouldn't have to result to this .

You'll understand right? Afterall, you're finally his,

and his only.

[fiyero3305]

Three Days

There are three days between Ben’s death and his funeral.

Three days of Ben’s body laying in cold storage somewhere in Hargreeves’s lab as he and Pogo do whatever the fuck they need to do to get him ready.

“But I want to see him!” Klaus had cried at Pogo standing in front of the laboratory door on the first day.

I don’t want him in there alone he doesn’t say out loud because he knows how stupid it sounds and for once he doesn’t want to exasperate the authority figure before him with his unrestrained thoughts. He’s still a little high from the party he’d attended before the mission but his thoughts are at least clear enough to allow a bit of strategizing. Maybe if I don’t act like myself he’ll take me seriously.

“Master Klaus, please understand. It would be... upsetting for you to see your brother in this state” Pogo tells him, infuriatingly sympathetic in tone. “Allow your father to take care of the boy. He’s doing all in his power to prepare him for the funeral” He realizes he’ll get nowhere with the fucking chimp and storms upstairs.

Whatever the rest of the Academy does during this time, Klaus doesn’t know because he barricades himself in Ben’s room (fuck his father for not allowing locks on their doors) before collapsing in a frustrated heap on the floor. From here his eyes land on the clothes Ben had been wearing just before the mission, dropped on the floor by his closet. Klaus has a vague memory of Ben not being ready on time, having to dress in a rush, as he pulls the shirt to his face and grieves into it until his exhaustion finally takes over.

The next morning when Klaus awakes, there’s a moment where it could just be a normal day where he passed out on Ben’s floor having not made it to his bed, but instead of his brother looking down at him with a pissy face and a sarcastic comment, he has tear-crusted eyelashes and Ben’s shirt stuck to his face, and he remembers why.

His head is throbbing and his mouth feels like he was deepthroating a fucking scarecrow last night and the only thing he’d want to get up for is to get some of the coping materials in his room, but he can’t do that so he just folds himself up around that shirt and wallows. He feels the ache from sleeping in a heap on the floor, the sharp pressure on his shoulder and hip as they press against the hard surface, and wonders what his siblings are doing this morning. Are they suffering like he is? They fucking better be. But would they? Did any of them care enough about Ben to be as miserable as he is?

All Luther cared about was bossing them all around, especially him and Ben, always feeding them the same bullshit their dad did about not training hard enough to be of any real use to the team. If he was feeling anything right now it was probably vindication. Yeah Luther, you were right. We didn’t train hard enough and now Ben’s fucking dead. Are you so fucking happy? Are you and dad gonna compare notes about how fucking disappointing Ben was and how if he’d only listened to the two of you he’d still be alive?

Besides, if Luther was feeling any kind of sorrow over anything, he always had Allison there to fret all over him and make sure his fragile ego didn’t take any damage. She never cared about Ben either as far as Klaus could tell. Too quiet, too much of a loser for her. Not the fun fuck up like Klaus who she could party with but still feel superior to by always having to fix him. No, Ben didn’t need her and she hated him for it. She’s probably glad Klaus’s only other support system is gone now so he can be even more pitiful and needy for her.

And then there’s Vanya. God, fucking Vanya, who followed them around like a sick, sad puppy always trying to be part of the team. Well, here’s your golden opportunity! ‘Nother spot just opened right up! Maybe dad’s finally gonna be desperate enough to put you in after losing two of his fucking child soldiers. God, did she really not see that she was the luckiest one of the whole sorry crew? Who the hell wants this shit? Who would want to be part of this team when it means Reginald Hargreeves actually pays attention to you? Fucking idiot.

Diego might be the only one who was actually sad right now, but that’s because Diego “Nobody’s Favorite” Hargreeves was always a fucking sad sack. Diego “Number Two isn’t just my name, it’s my whole essence” Hargreeves, who couldn’t manage to find a single partner on the team after Allison leapfrogged right over him when picking her partner because who wants to sleep their way to second place; Ben and Klaus bonded in a way none of them could understand since they all love their fucking powers so much; and even Vanya and Five for whatever fucking reason, leaving Diego to be second favorite at best in everyone’s eyes and make his best friend their fucking robot mom.

It's that mom’s robot strength that at some point opens the door as easily as if there hadn’t been a desk jammed against it and crouches down to set a lunch tray on the floor near his head. She doesn’t speak, but holds her artificially warm hand to his cheek and presses her silicone lips to the top of his head long enough to remind him that she is somehow the most humane person in this goddamned house.

Mom closes the door when she leaves and Klaus doesn’t bother to put the desk back. He realizes now that no one wants to check in on him or the dead boy’s room.

Klaus drinks the water his mother left him but can’t find the desire to eat. When night falls again, he makes his way over to the bed, still holding the shirt, and crawls in. The contrast of the warmth and softness against his aching body is almost like being hugged and when he puts the shirt over Ben’s pillow and wraps his arms around it the effect is real enough to bring on a new wave of tears.

On the third day Pogo knocks on the door to inform him that the burial will be that morning. Klaus extricates himself from his comfort nest and tumbles to the door.

“Can I see him?” he pants, opening the door and almost stepping out.

“I’m afraid the damage was too severe. Your father has decided that a closed casket is the only option.”

“But you said he was fixing him...”

“Master Klaus, you don’t need to see your brother in this state. Remember him in life. Remember the calm, gentle friend who always cared for you. Who made sure this family remembered their better selves even in moments of dire—”

Klaus closes the door because whatever the fucking orangutan is going on about has nothing to do with Ben or how Klaus will remember him. Ben is a sarcastic bitch who puts Klaus in his place every time and shit-talks his family in hushed tones for only the two of them to hear. He’s the one who tells Klaus he won’t cry when he finally drinks and smokes himself to death, but lets him share his bed when he’s sober. Ben isn’t some holy saint who exists in eulogy; he’s messy and real and beautiful and Klaus isn’t about to pretend otherwise just because that’s what you’re supposed to do when someone dies.

He showers and shaves and puts on the suit he finds laid out on Ben’s bed when he returns. On the way downstairs he stops in his room and grabs his flask because one way or another, he’s drinking when this is done. At the courtyard door he finds Vanya, Diego, and Mom standing there. He takes his place in line and waits for Allison and Luther to make their way over, almost wishing they would never make it. He doesn’t want to go out there and see the grave

A thick, wet snow has begun falling and Pogo hands each of them a matching black umbrella as they process out to the casket, already being covered by the heavy flakes.

They encircle the box that holds their brother’s body and though he tells himself that it’s not Ben in there; that he knows better than anyone that the soul is a real thing and it doesn’t hang out in the meatsuit after death; he can’t stop thinking about how it’s too cold and dark in that hole. That they’re about to lower his Ben into the rough unforgiving ground and cover him up with dirt and move on and that’s fucking fucked up.

Reggie takes the opportunity to blame his children for their brother’s death as if they’re the ones who chose to send kids out to battle to the death with terrorists and monsters and Klaus is vaguely aware of the fight that breaks out among the Academy and Vanya but his mind is on him and Ben and he can’t really be bothered with what they have going on.

Finally, everyone leaves because they’ve done their required ceremonial mourning and he can be alone. He stares at the photograph of Ben on the lid of the casket, surrounded by ornate tentacle ornamentation (because yeah, that’s how he would want to be remembered. Fucking Reggie.) as the snow covers it. That’s a nicer thought than the dirt, for some reason. Gentle... and calm, he guesses. It’s quiet, and the cold air he pulls in helps clear his head as he makes his way over to the gazebo. Hopefully clear enough to do what he wants to do.

He’s never really done this, but he’s spent the last few days painfully sober just to have even a chance. He doesn’t even know what to do exactly, but he focuses on that swirling chill he’s always felt within and pulls it to his hands. He thinks of Ben, sees him in his mind’s eye, floods his brain with memories and thoughts and feelings and pulls. He yearns with more focus than he’s ever put into anything in his life and without any idea if it’s working, he hears that voice.

“Klaus?”

[dabadmooddood]

so, i went and saw challengers...

**spoilers ahead// I was stupid tired typing this so it might not make any sense and could just be word vomit, but I couldn’t sleep without getting this off my chest**

so i think the problem i've had with the conversations i've seen surrounding this film is the fact that people are trying to really simplify the relationships between them and their relationships with tennis then reducing them to some blanket statements like "oh Tashi just loves tennis and is just with Art because she can control him" or "Art doesn't even love Tashi, he loves the idea of her and what she can do for him" or even "Patrick doesn't love either of them, he just loves attention". i think why these conversations really bother me is because i fear we are reaching a stage where we are so unable to connect to people that we fail to see characters as people and recognise that like most people they are complex and so are their relationships with the things and people they love. i think this is the truest form of a love triangle but not in the traditional sense, i think all three have a love for two (or more) things or people and i word it like that for specific reasons.

Let's start with Art, who is a character i relate to quite heavily, i think it is quite obvious in both of his establishing scenes with them how much he loves both Tashi and Patrick and as a result also has a love for tennis because that is what keeps him within proximity of them, first Patrick then Tashi. I think his love for both stems from a clear adoration he has for them because their supposed, although faux, security in themselves is foreign to him because he’s quite clearly very insecure (this is kind of highlighted in multiple instances when he's so full of praise for them but doesn't really talk much of his own ability and in fact sees himself as quite the inferior to others in different aspects). I can understand how this can be perceived as him loving the idea of Tashi more than he loves Tashi herself but i think there are hints throughout the film that points out how he views her in a way that is much more intimate than just some great tennis player, i mean from the second he made the comment about the scream she made after winning the junior open i knew they'd end up together. His love for Patrick is a little bit different because he very much views him as a brother initially and it's a bit harder to tell how he feels about him after the kiss, but they never struggle to be within each other's space and the way they engage with each other is extremely intimate, I mean technically even his first sexual experience was with Patrick, and there is no doubt in my mind that he does love him very deeply.

Regarding Patrick, i’ve seen quite a few people argue that he loves neither of them and only loves himself but again i feel strongly inclined to disagree with that. Whilst it is obvious that he does have quite the ego and more than anything loves attention and adoration, i think to say he does not love Art would be extremely untrue. i think the fact that Patrick is only able to produce his best tennis is when playing against or alongside Art is meant to show us how deeply it is that he cares for him and that those are the moments in which less of his focus on his own ego which is what makes, “That’s different. That’s you and me.” such a beautiful line because it introduces us to the idea from early that Art is the only person whom Patrick is willing to surrender his ego for. Also, it goes unnoticed a lot, but he has a lot of praise for Art and is often frustrated with his lack of self-belief because what seems like just adoration on Art’s end is a shared adoration which is why he is ultimately fine with Tashi’s singing his praises in bed because he feels the same way about him.

Lastly, i’ve seen many say that Tashi doesn’t love Art in multiple ways, whether it be “she doesn’t love either of them, she just loves tennis” or “she was really in love with Patrick but because she got injured, she chose Art”, but i really do believe she loved Art. When discussing Tashi’s relationship with the boys i think it’s useful to analayse their double’s nickname fire and ice, with Patrick being fire and Art being ice. Fire represents passion and desire but similar to actual fire is unpredictable and uncontrollable whereas Ice is meant to represent calmness and stillness but also something that can be carved into something new or even reshaped. Tashi and Patrick’s fight, that ultimately ended their relationship, was a result of Tashi trying to coach Patrick and him being defensive as a means to protect his ego, which is quite similar to their initial interaction with each other in which Patrick defends the effectiveness of his serving routine against Tashi’s criticisms of it. When looking at that in comparison to Art pretty much immediately adjusting and improving his serve at Tashi’s recommendation it really highlights the exact differences in the two relationships. Now, i’ve seen many argue that that is the only reason Tashi chooses to be with Art, because she is controlling and needs someone controllable, but i think that is where we do the character a disservice and oversimplify her. Although we don’t see it all that often, Art brings out a side of Tashi which is very much caring and considerate. It's extremely hard to see it through her demeaner particularly when they’re older and she tries to be his tennis coach at all times but there are moments throughout the film when her guard momentarily drops and she’s seen smiling at him, expressing concern for him or just being generally softer than the Tashi we see throughout the rest of the film. Also, the so called “hate” she has for him is clearly an underlying resentment that she holds because he doesn’t love tennis as much as she does but it is still able to compete at the highest level and i can agree that it manifests itself in a very unpleasant way but I think the only reason Patrick calls it hate because he has a similar jealousy that Art was able to achieve the adoration he craved but it didn’t manifest itself in the same way and he probably still holds similar adoration for Art that he’s always had

All in all, i do think there are clearly loving relationships that exist between the characters but unfortunately the one thing that connects them, tennis, is also the one thing that doesn’t allow them to have healthy relationships as it breeds jealousy and resentment partnered with the different ways they compensate for their insecurities it can make it seem as simple as “they all hate each other” but I believe it more so a toxic love than it is a hatred.

[bunnakit]

much ado about shin

so i wanted to put my thoughts and feelings down on the trajectory of Bake Me Please yesterday but i had a splitting migraine and couldn't thoughts well, so here it is today.

i've said it in the past but Shin doesn't know how to give affection, he doesn't know what it means to love, because he's never had proper examples of what that looks like. we're modeled by our environment and Shin has grown up very isolated from everything, so he's wildly out of his depth when it comes to more tender feelings. i said last week i believed we would see Shin try and use food, the only instance where he does understand love, to try and apologize to Peach and i was delighted when it turned out i was right.

this doesn't mean i'm not still infuriated with Shin, though. his constant ego is tiring, the fact he thinks he invented the fucking torta caprese (i don't think you were around in 1920 Shin, sorry,) the way he called Peach's dream stupid, the fact he doesn't understand why Guy would leave to pursue his own dreams (again, i wonder if Shin has ever had a dream,) and the way he just doesn't. fucking. listen.

we did see a glimpse this week, a little nod that Shin has changed. he grows defensive around Peach because that's the source of his hurt right now but when he was alone in the kitchen with Atom he didn't lash out, wasn't rude to him, he was soft and kind and even vulnerable as he hid his tears. Shin is changing, he's keeping good habits for the most part, which is good to see. now if only he could be that way around Peach.

while i don't understand why we're supposed to keep giving Shin our patience and understanding (the narrative really hasn't done much to redeem him in my eyes) i do appreciate from a narrative standpoint that we're being shown that impulsively falling into bed with someone with little communication or understanding does not a good relationship make.

Shin and Peach had no discussion of their feelings for each other before or after sleeping together and it became very clear very quickly that they still don't even really know each other. Shin had no idea about Peach's dream, barely knows anything about how he grew up, and has shared very little of himself with Peach - and even asks Peach to keep their relationship a secret with zero explanation. (i don't know what you expected him to think Shin you fucking doorknob.) they're good at flirting, at falling into bed together, at being playful, but they're absolutely dog shit at talking.

you know who isn't bad at talking?

here i go again. but honestly, Guy has always talked to Peach about what bothers him, what he likes, what he wants to do with his life. this is the number one reason i won't classify Guy as an incel "nice guy" character (Oab) because he does genuinely care about Peach and what goes on in Peach's life. he's listened to Peach complain about Shin, watched them get together, and has comforted Peach numerous times. he knows Peach better than his own boyfriend, fling, whatever does and i think that's probably what is fueling so much of his frustration and petty actions.

i also think this relationship between Peach and Guy is why so many of us would rather see those two get together. they communicate, recent events not withstanding, they have fun together and have genuinely really liked each other (platonically) since episode 1. your partner should be your best friend and aside from Atom i believe Guy is the best friend Peach has. they would probably work so well together, support each other, and make the most amazing bakery of Peach's dreams together - if only Peach could stop giving a shit about Shin.

and like, the heart wants what the heart wants or whatever. sure. but i'm genuinely very concerned we're going to see Peach apologizing to Shin in the finale and Shin taking no accountability or it being brushed off as "that's just how Shin is." i need to see Shin apologize, whether with words, actions, or something, for calling Peach's dream stupid. above everything else that absolutely needs to be addressed because that's something Peach will remember forever. our brain has a funny way of latching on to the worst things people have said to us and rotating them in a microwave.

i would respect the show so fucking much if Shin and Peach didn't get back together, if they went their separate ways. is it a cute ending to a love story? absolutely not, but it would be so realistic and even healthy. sometimes you meet someone and it's fun and the sex is good but it's just never going to work and you can't change people (they can only change themselves.) i would even appreciate if they went a 'right person, wrong time' approach; maybe a time skip where Peach has his dream shop, Shin walks in, and they can try again.

all i know is i REALLY don't want to see this all put on Peach's shoulders, and i don't really want Guy to be pigeon holed into being a villain either. Shin's being fucking goofy and i think Guy's antics are the wake up call he needs (when he wakes up from his.. heart attack? embolism? stroke?) to get his shit together and treat Peach right.

but if he shoves Peach one more time i'm ripping his arms off and beating him with them, that's for sure.

[chickensarentcheap]

Lost and Found- Chapter 27

Fandom: Extraction

Pairing: Tyler Rake and Esme Drummond (established OFC. You do NOT have to read the other fics in the series to understand this one)

Warnings: some profanity, mentions of blood, bruises, physical injuries

Tagging: @tragiclyhip @youflickedtooharddamnit @secretaryunpaid @thebejeweledwatercat @fanficanatic-tw @munstysmind @themaradwrites @asirensrage @kmc1989 @karimac @ninjasawakenedmystar @theesirenteller @residentdormouse @arrthurpendragon @ocappreciationtag @occommunity @alisbackalleybbq

Link to Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43179357/chapters/134993251

My tag list is OPEN. Just let me know if you'd like to be added :)

****

When she wakes, it’s to the glow of the bedside monitor and the ribbons of moonlight that stream into the room. As the waves of the Tyrrhenian Sea vigorously lap at the base of the cliffs, a steady, crisp breeze flows through the open window; fluttering the curtains as the scent of salt fills the room.

She’s confused and disoriented. Days spent drifting out of consciousness; never fully aware of her surroundings, the identities of the people tending to her, or the validity of the conversations she partook in. Kept on high and frequent doses of medication as her body began the healing process; wanting to spare her the overwhelming stress that the intense and constant pain would inflict upon her. It takes several minutes for her surroundings to register; the disjointed and muddled mess of thoughts causing her head to swim as the room spins around her. Her mouth and throat are impossibly dry; finding it painful to swallow, her cracked and peeling lips burning when she dares to run the tip of her tongue along them. Her limbs feel impossibly heavy and rooted to the mattress below; the accompanying pain dull, yet manageable. A far cry from the agony she’d experienced after the accident; the memories of that afternoon returning slowly yet terrifying vividly.

“Tyler?” Her voice is barely above a whisper. Initially believing she’s speaking to an empty room, she gives a small start when she hears movement at the side of the bed. Then manages both a sigh of relief and a small smile as he drops his cell phone onto the mattress and slides his chair closer.

“Hey…”

The smile reaches his eyes, crinkling the corners. The first time she’d ever seen it, it had taken her breath away; the way the years seemed to drop away from his face and off his shoulders. Only to be replaced by a softness and a beauty not expected from a man like him. Weary and laden with unspeakable burdens; the traumas he’d endured for most of his life, the things he’d seen and done during his tours of duty with the military, the lives he’d taken during his time as a mercenary. And while others had deemed him reckless and dangerous, he’d been the only person who’d ever made her feel safe. Secure. Protected.

He briefly stands, leaning over the bed and running a hand over her hair. Hooking a finger under her chin, he gently tilts her face towards him; his lips gracing hers with the most delicate of kisses. “...sleeping beauty awakes.”

“I appreciate you trying to feed my ego, but I already know I’m a mess. And not a hot one, either.”

“You’re still here. Alive and on the mend. Can’t get much more beautiful than that.”

“Jesus, you really ARE the most biased man on the planet.”

“Biased or not, it’s true.” Pulling the chair as close as he can to the edge of the bed, he sits once more. A palm resting on the top of her head as his thumb repeatedly brushes against her brow and his free hand holds one of hers. How ya feelin’?”

“I’m not entirely sure. Better, I guess? Considering how I felt when it first happened…” She gingerly reaches across her body; careful to not upset the various tubes and wires and the IV needle that pierces the top of her hand. Allowing her fingertips to gently explore the various cuts and bruises that mar his face and neck. “Are you okay?”

“You don’t need to worry about me.”

“Excuse me? Have we met? I worry. It’s what I do. You should know that by now.”

“Of all the times you should be ignoring what I look like and what I’m doing.…”

“That’s impossible. I’ll never stop worrying about you; no matter what’s going on with me. I spent five years worrying; wondering how you were doing and if you were staying safe, and just hoping and praying you’d be alright. Every time Nik would tell me about a job you’d take…”

“You know, you could have cut out the middleman and just talked to me.”

“I wanted to, so many times. Do you know how many text messages I erased instead of sending them? How many times I’d call and get your voicemail, then just hang up without leaving anything? More than I like to admit.”

“I used to call your cell,” he sheepishly admits. “ The one you left behind. Just to listen to your outgoing message. Hear your voice.”

“Did it make you feel better?”

“Sometimes. And sometimes it made me mad as hell.”

“I’m sorry, Tyler. I am so sorry. And I know it seems like I’m constantly saying that, but…”

“Let’s not talk about it right now, okay? If there was ever a time NOT to…”

“What better time could there be? Not much else I can do.”

“It’s not important right now. We’ll get lots of time later. Believe me. When all this is over, and we’re finally home and settled, we can deal with everything else. But right now…” Cupping her cheek in his palm, the pad of his thumb tenderly glides over one of the many bruises that grace her skin. “...let’s just concentrate on you. Getting you better. And home.”

“That’s all I want. To go home. I mean, not that it actually IS my home. It’s not like I’ve ever lived there. I didn’t…”

“It is, though. Your home. OUR home. It’s the one we bought together. Made all kinds of plans for. The last five years didn’t just erase all of that.”

“But I never actually lived there. Other than when we first looked at it with the realtor, I’ve never even stepped through the front door.”

“That doesn’t matter. At least not to me. It’s always been your home, Me. It’s always been the place where you belong.”

Tears glisten in her eyes. “Why are you like this?”

“Like what?”

“Like THIS. The way you are with me. The way you’ve always been. Why do you love me like you do?”

“Do I need to have a reason?”

“After everything I’ve done, after hurting you like I did, you still love me. Way more than anyone else ever has. Or could. Why?”

“Because I do. Isn’t that enough?”

“I don’t deserve it. Not after…”

“That’s just your guilt talking.”

“I have a reason to be guilty. Everything I did to you..”

“Esme, I love you. I have ALWAYS loved you. And I always held out hope that one day you’d just walk back into my life. I only wish it had been a little sooner.”

“If I only called you sooner. Not waited so long. If I’d just…”

“But you didn’t. And you can’t change that. You can’t go back and make different choices. And you know what, that’s going to suck for a long time. Believe me, I know. There are a couple of things I wish I could go back and change. Have a re-do.”

“When it comes to us? To me?”

“The only thing I’d change is that I’d stay home that day; instead of going to Broome with Koen. And I should have. Stayed with you. You were sick, and you needed me and I..”

“I thought it was stress. Or that I’d come down with something. I wasn’t bedridden. I didn’t need you to wait on me and food and baby me. I…”

“I should have stayed. It’s the one time I didn’t listen to my gut. And look what happened.”

“You being there wouldn’t have changed things. The adjudicator still would have shown up. If anything, your being there would have made things worse. I know what you’re like, Tyler. When it comes to me. How protective you are. How you wouldn’t think twice about hurting someone…even killing them…when it comes to me. That wouldn’t have ended well. If you’d laid hands on them.”

“Maybe not. But we could have gone through it together. Found a place to hide out while Nik dealt with everything. You leaving? That wasn’t the only option.”

“I was scared. I wanted to protect you. Everything I did that day, I did for you- to keep you safe. I never did any of it to hurt you.”

“I know that. And I’m starting to accept it. You just need to give me some time, yeah? To deal with all of it? Work through it? I need that from you. Time.”

“As long as you don’t want to go through it alone. As long as it means that it’s the three of us dealing with it all together. Me, you, Millie. That’s what you want, right? The three of us sticking together?”

“I wouldn’t think of NOT doing it that way. I’m not going anywhere- not now, not ever. You need to trust me when I tell you that.”

“I do trust you. I’ve always trusted you. You’re the only person I really DO trust. To this extent, anyway.”

“Then trust me when I tell you that we don’t need to be dealing with this right now. We’re going to have lots of time to talk about things. Work through them. But right now? Right now needs to be about you. And getting you back on your feet and finally home. That’s all that matters. Can we agree? To just focus on that?”

Esme nods.

Giving her a wink, he leans in to press a kiss to her brow)

Her fingertips continue the investigation of his face and neck; tracing over healing cuts and thriving bruises. “I think you’re going to have a few new scars. To add to your collection. Nothing major, but…”

“Wouldn’t be one of my jobs if I didn’t get a little fucked up.”

“You do have a bad habit of messing yourself up, that’s for sure. Why it has to be the face, I’ll never know. Of all things? The face? Really?”

“I appreciate your concern for the rest of my body,” he teases. “And my mental health.”

“This one will always be my favourite.” She runs a fingertip over the scar that curves over the bridge of his nose. “Always.”

“How ARE you feeling? And don’t bullshit me.”

“I feel fine. Well, I don’t know if ‘fine’ is the right word, but I know I feel a lot better than I did…” She frowns, her voice trailing off.

“What? What’s wrong? What…?”

“How many days HAS it been? Since we left New York? What day is it today?”

“It’s Friday.”

“What? Friday? Are you sure?”

“I’m fully aware of what day it is.”

“But we left on Monday. How can it already be Friday? I’ve been out that long? What…?”

“You’ve been on some really strong meds. Heavy-duty stuff. You’ve been in and out. Never fully conscious, though. The doctor thought it was for the best; let your body heal without trying to fight back against the pain.”

“Did you think it was for the best?”

“I wouldn’t have told him to go ahead with it if I didn’t. I didn’t want you in constant pain. I know what it’s like; to always be in agony. I didn’t want that for you. Of all people who don’t deserve that…”

“Thank you. For taking care of me. Fighting for me.”

“It’s what we do, yeah? Take care of each other? Isn’t that what you always say?”

She nods.

“It was my turn anyway. Considering everything you had to do? After Dhaka?”

“I didn’t HAVE to do it. I wanted to do it.”

“Just like I want to take care of you. No more running. I’m not that guy anymore. I haven’t been him in a long time.”

“I’ve never known that Tyler. I’ve only ever known that one who will do anything and everything he has to protect me. THAT’S the Tyler I know. The one I fell in love with.”

He presses a kiss to her temple. “I do have a bone to pick with you, though.”

“Uh-oh.”

“You scared the fucking shit out of me. Seeing you like that. After the accident.”

“It wasn’t intentional. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Just don’t do it again, yeah? I’m not getting any younger. My heart can only take so much.”

“Noted. I’ll be on my best behaviour from here on out. You know what the good thing is? That once this is all over and we’re finally settled, we won’t have to worry about this kind of thing anymore. Let alone go through it. It’ll all be behind us. No more stressing over whether or not the last time you walk out the front door really IS the last time.”

“I hate to break it to you, but you’re kinda walking away from danger and right into another. You do realize you’re gonna be married to a firefighter, right?”

“As scary and as dangerous as that is, I will take it over you being a mercenary any day of the week. Not to take away from your skills or your talent. Because you’re amazing at what you do. But…”

“It’s time. For something new. Something normal.”

“Whatever ‘normal’ is when it comes to us. We’ve never really been ‘normal’.”

“Our own brand of normal, I guess. We weren’t meant to be like everyone else. And who wants to be? That’s boring as hell.”

“I’m okay with whatever brand of normal we come up with.”

“Speaking of being okay, you never really answered my question. About how you’re feeling.”

“I feel kinda weird, to be honest. The last thing I really remember is being with Nik and Yaz. On our way to the airport. When you gave me that morphine. Everything after that is a complete blur. Just the mashup of moments and words and sounds. I know that doesn’t make sense.”

“I remember feeling like that. After waking up from that coma. So it makes total sense to me. Have any pain?”

“A little. Nothing serious, though.”

“They almost weaned you completely off the IV meds. They’ll want to start you on oral stuff in the morning. They don’t want you hooked up to anything once you go home. Think you can manage that? Getting rid of all those tubes and wires?”

“I can definitely manage that.”

“Do you need anything? Something to drink? Eat?”

“I AM thirsty. And I definitely could eat. Honestly, I feel like I could eat the shit out of a dead hippo, right about now.”

He chuckles. “Now I know where she got it from. Millie said the same thing the other day. When she woke up and wanted breakfast.”

“Well, there is at least a little bit of me inside of her. A few of my genes. She can’t be EXACTLY like you.”

“She’s like me in all the best ways, though.”

“She’s beautiful, like you. That’s for sure.”

“You just had to go and insult me. Call me the ‘b’ word.”

“Regardless of what you think, you can be both badass AND beautiful. You check both boxes. Among many others.”

“You are so good for my ego.” Cradling her bruised cheek in his palms, he places a long, soft kiss on her lips. “I’ll go downstairs and see what I can round up. You feel like anything in particular or…?”

“Cheese toast.”

“I can’t believe you still eat that stuff,” he chides. “Thought you would have grown out of that by now.”

“It’s my favourite comfort food. That, and your lasagna. Remember how I’d always ask you to make that? If I wasn’t feeling well or I was just having a really shitty day? And you always did it. No questions asked. No bitching or moaning about it.”

“I liked making you happy. I still do. Besides, if Esme wasn’t having a good day, no one was.”

“I always felt I’d found the proverbial needle in the haystack. A guy that can fuck well, fix his own truck, AND cook? Nothing sexier than that combo.”

“You know, when it comes to men, your standards are very low.”

“Well, I mean, there’s a lot of things that are sexy about you. I have a very extensive list.”

“Like I said, you’re really good at stroking my ego. Among other things.”

(laughs, then winces when it causes pain and discomfort in her ribs)

“You just relax, okay? I’ll go and make you something to eat. Bring you some tea. It’ll do some good to get some food into you.”

He stands and leans over the bed; index finger once more hooking under her chin and tilting her head back in order to kiss her. Skimming his knuckles over her bruised cheek, she grabs his hand when he attempts to step away from the bed; squeezing tightly as he glances down at her. Scowling at the look of fear and worry that lines her brow and creases the corners of her eyes.

“You’re coming back, right?”

“I mean unless something happens to me on the way to the kitchen or on my way back here…”

“Promise me. That you’re coming back.”

“I’m coming back.” He chooses to assure as opposed to scolding her for thinking so irrationally. “I already told you, Me. I’m not going anywhere. Ever.”

****

He returns with a tray laden with food and a small pot of tea; discovering that she’s managed to sit herself up in bed and now leans back against a selection of pillows stacked behind her. In spite of the bruises that decorate her face and various parts of her body, her colour has started to return; days spent a sickly, almost deathly gray, her skin impossibly dry. She’s starting to look like Esme again; able to smile, the sparkle back in her eyes, her sunken cheeks beginning to fill out. Clarity and understanding quickly restored; now fully conscious and aware of her surroundings. It’s a relief to see her like this; knowing the extent of her injuries and how close things had come to being so much worse. And when she beams at him as approaches the bed, it helps the last of his fears and worries subside.

“I see you made it back safe and sound. No one tried to kidnap you.”

“I was jumped in the hallway. Fought them off. Told them they may be mean and tough, but they don’t come close to you when you’re hangry.”

“I am not THAT bad.”

“I’ve lived with you. You ARE that bad.

“Got ya a little bit of everything.” Placing the tray across her lap, he takes a seat on the edge of the mattress. “Cheese toast, some apple sauce, some pasta that was left over from dinner, some tea.”

“I know I said I was hungry, and I really do appreciate you wanting to wait on me hand and foot, but…”

“You don’t have to eat it all. Just a bit of each. Do what you can.”

As she attempts to eat, he tends to the tea. Filling the waiting mug and adding a splash of milk, he keeps a quiet, watchful eye on her as she attempts to eat; her hands furiously trembling, making it impossible to even lift the food, never mind get it to her mouth. Instead of immediately jumping to her aid, he allows her to keep trying; knowing the enormity of both her stubbornness and her hatred for being too ‘dependent’ on another person. And it isn’t until she mutters profanities and begins to tear up that he finally steps in; sliding closer to her just as her lower lip and chin begin to tremble.

“Here…” Cupping a hand under her chin, uses the other to bring a slice of cheese toast to her lips. “...let’s make it easier on you.”

“You shouldn’t have to do this.”

“No one HAS to do anything. I’m doing it ‘cause I want to.”

“It’s embarrassing. I’m a grown-ass adult. I shouldn’t need someone to feed me.”

“Did you think that way when you were doing it for me? After Dhaka? That I was a grown man and should be able to do it myself?”

“You almost died. You were in a coma for seven months. You needed my help.”

“And you’ve gotten yourself fucked up pretty good, and you need my help.”

“It’s not the same thing. It’s…”

“It’s a two-way street, yeah? We already agreed on that. You take care of me, I take care of you.”

“But…”

“No ‘buts’. Just shut up and eat your cheese toast.”

He’s patient, and his voice is gentle, allowing her to take small bites and chew slowly, offering encouragement and praising her on both her efforts and success. Using soft fingertips to clear crumbs and cheese away from the corners of her mouth, then moved on to the applesauce; alternating between slipping the spoon between her lips and offering sips of tea. And he’s genuinely impressed when she makes it through more than half the pot and a couple of mouthfuls of pasta before tapping out.

Helping her get settled and comfortable against the pillows, he moves the tray to the dresser and disappears into the master bath. Returning moments later with a damp cloth and a hand towel in order to clean and dry her face. Afterwards, he climbs into the bed alongside her; mindful of the various tubes and wires as he settles next to her. Leaning back against the headboard and stretching his legs out in front of him; her body fitting tightly -and comfortably- against his when he wraps an arm around her shoulders.

Dropping a kiss on her hair, he places his chin on the top of her head. “You good? Feeling alright?”

“I’m good. Full. I think I ate too much. Probably shouldn’t have had THAT much.”

“That was nothing. I’ve seen you put away enough to feed four grown men.”

Laughing, she digs her elbow into his ribs. “Fuck off, Tyler.”

“It’s kinda sexy; a little thing like you being able to pack it away like that.”

“I’m starting to regret that I even woke up. You picking on me like this.”

“Everything I say, I say with love. Just like when you make fun of my huge feet and big ass forehead.”

“I don’t say those things with love. I say them with one hundred percent truth.”

“Now who’s starting to regret that you woke up?”

“For the record, EVERYTHING I say is out of love. Well, except for maybe when I used to bitch at you for leaving your dirty underwear in front of the hamper, instead of in it.”

“You sure it was mine? ‘Cause I don’t wear underwear ninety-eight percent of the time.”

“Well…” She settles her head on his chest and places her hand on his stomach; fingertips drawing slow, smooth circles on the fabric of his t-shirt. “... unless there was another guy living there that I didn’t know about…”

“It was my twin. My EVIL twin.”

“And what did you do with him? Your evil twin.”

“Who says you’re not talking to the evil one?”

“The evil twin would NOT have spoonfed me apple sauce.”

“That’s a very good point.”

“Besides, there’s nothing evil about you- not in the slightest. Trust me, I wouldn’t have fallen in love with you if there had been. And I definitely wouldn’t have STAYED in love with you. The last five years haven’t exactly been pleasant for me, either.”

“I know. It’s not like you wanted to leave. Or stay away.”

“But, I promised we wouldn’t talk about this. Not right now, anyway. And I don’t want to fight. I know how things get when we talk about intense stuff; we both get worked up, and our tempers take over and mean things get said. And then the next thing you know, all kinds of feelings are hurt, and we hate each other.”

“I’ve never hated you. I never could.”

“Okay, maybe hate is a strong word. But feelings do get hurt, and then we hold grudges against each other, and things are awkward for a while. And I don’t want things to be awkward. I want to be better than that; like we were five years ago. Not that we were horrible together, or anything. Because we weren’t. We just…”

“We both had a shit we were carrying around. It was bound to fuck things up every now and then.”

“Everything happened so fast. Between us. We never really got a chance to catch our breath, did we.”

“Not really, no.”

“We went from those five days in Dhaka to living together and planning a future. It’s not like we dated; or got to know each other like normal people.”

“I think we long ago established that we are both far from normal. Do you regret it? The way we handled things? The way they happened?”

“No. Not in the slightest. I just think it’s just a reasonable explanation; for why things got a little tense and out of hand at times. But you? US? I’ve never…for not even one second…had any regrets. I mean, other than the obvious. My fuck up five years ago. I think that goes without saying. Do you? Have regrets?”

“No. It all happened for a reason: you showing up on my doorstep that day, everything that went down in Dhaka. And I hope one day I can say the same thing about you taking off, keeping Millie a secret. That there was a reason for it to happen that way.”

“There was. I wanted to keep you safe. That’s the only reason. And as far as not telling you about Millie…”

“I know you were scared. That I’d turn you away. That I wouldn’t want anything to do with her. And there are moments where I totally accept that. But other times…”

“Hurts like hell.”

He nods.

“I AM sorry, Tyler. And if there was a way of taking it all back…”

“Well, there isn’t.” Immediately aware of the harshness of his voice, he gives her shoulder a squeeze and smiles down at her. “I love you. I always have. And isn’t that what really matters? When it all comes down to it? That I love you?”

“That’s all that’s ever mattered. It was the only thing I ever had that was real. How you felt about me. It was the only thing that was ever important. And then Millie came along. She’s all I had of you. My only connection. I didn’t even have a picture of you. I just had her.”

“You’ve done a good job, Me. A damn good job. She’s beautiful. And so fucking smart. Way smarter than I was at that age, that’s for sure. Probably smarter than I was at TWICE that age. Maybe even smarter than I am now.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. You’ve got a bigger brain pan than you realize or let on. And that’s part of what makes you so good at what you do. You’ve got the size, strength, and skills; those things are easy for people to see. They don’t expect you to be smart, too. They underestimate you. And that’s what makes you so dangerous.”

“I don’t know, Me. I think you have me beat in that department. If anyone is underestimated…”

“Well, you know what they say, about good things coming in small packages.”

“Pocket-sized packages, in your case.”

“Oh God, not THAT again.”

“I’m just saying. You’re tough for a little thing. I can see why you were so good at the job. No one would ever expect someone like you to be able to pull those kinds of things off.”

“It was survival of the fittest. And the smartest. I learned early on that if I was going to make it out alive, I had to be really good at what I did. It was exhausting, though: pretending to be a completely different person all the time. I’m glad it’s done; that I can just walk away and never think of this life again.”

“Soon. Once we’re out of here and get settled in Broome and Nik takes care of things back in New York City…”

“It’s going to be weird. Living a whole different life. Seeing you doing a different job. I have to say, you picked a pretty sexy career. A girl loves a man in uniform.”

“I don’t wear a uniform.”

“That’s it; go and ruin my fantasy.”

“And there’s nothing sexy about those coats and those boots, I’ll tell you that much.”

“You’re just a real party pooper, you know that?” Nuzzling her cheek against his chest, she closes her eyes. Relaxing in the warmth that radiates from his body, the hard muscle against her, his familiar scent, and the way his calloused fingertips repeatedly graze up and down her arm. She desperately needs and craves the close contact; the feel of him a vivid reminder that she’d walked through hell and come out the other side.

*****

Several minutes pass before she speaks again. “Has Millie been okay?”

“She’s been worried about her mum. Constantly asking the doctor and the nurse about how you’re doing and if you’re getting better. And giving all kinds of advice on how to take care of you. She’s pretty adamant that mint chocolate chip ice cream is the cure to everything.”

“Was she ever in here? Because I don’t know if I was dreaming, but I have this very vivid, distinct memory of her sitting on the bed and brushing my hair.”

“Every night before bed, she comes in and sits with you. She always brushes your hair. And reads you a story.”

“That’s why I can’t get ‘Goodnight Moon’ out of my head. We really need to toss that book. Get her interested in something else. Because if I hear that damn story one more time…”

“Consider it done. As soon as we get home, it’ll mysteriously disappear. Along with your ten pairs of Crocs.”

“Hey! Leave my Crocs out of this. They didn’t do anything to you.”

“They’re an abomination.”

“They’re comfortable!”

“They’re ugly, is what they are.”

“If you know what’s good for you, you won’t touch my Crocs. I can hurt you, you know. In ways no one else ever has.”

“Doesn’t sound too ominous. Sounds more like you’re threatening me with a good time.”

“Listen, if you want to take your chances…”

“I’d rather be safe than sorry. You’re scary for a little thing. Probably the only person on earth who DOES frighten me.”

“You SHOULD be afraid. Very afraid. I have powers. That you can’t even begin to comprehend.”

“If you’re threatening me with no sex, I’ll have you know that I went months without it. After you left. Almost an entire year. So don’t think I can’t do that again. I don’t want to, but…”

“Who am I kidding? I’d never do something like that. I’d suffer just as much as you would. If not more.”

Yawning noisily, she once more closes her eyes; enjoying the feel of his breath against the top of her head and the sound of his heart beating deep within his chest. And he’s teetering on the edge of sleep when he feels her move against him; finding her peering up at him, chin resting just below his shoulder.

“You alright?”

“I have something to tell you.”

“I don’t think I like the sound of that.”

“It’s nothing bad. At least not to me. You might see it a bit differently. When you hear what it is. But I just figured that since we’re doing this whole totally honest, completely open thing, there was no reason to wait. That we’re in a good enough place to talk about it.”

“If it has anything to do with when you left and started hiding out…”

“It’s nothing to do with that. Well, maybe it does. I don’t know. I suppose it’s kind of related. Very loosely, mind you. I just think this is the time to tell you about it. I’m finally awake and feeling a lot better, and we’ve had some really good talks tonight, and I guess I want to keep the ball rolling and just..”

“Esme, you’re rambling.”

“I don’t even know where to start. HOW to start.”

“Just spit it out. Say what you want to say. What you NEED to say.”

Sighing heavily, she briefly glances away, chewing nervously on her bottom lip. “I was the one who asked Alcott to get you out of prison.”

“What do you mean you were the one who…?”

“I had spies, okay. Informants. Keeping me up to date on you. Alcott, Nik, Yaz. You know, people I could trust; to do the job for me and keep quiet about it. I didn’t want you to know that I was keeping an eye on you; I know how much you hate being babied or coddled or worried and I was afraid you found out I was sticking my nose where it didn’t belong…”

“I would have just been happy to know you were okay. To know you even still gave a shit about me. I wouldn’t even have questioned it; you spying on me.”

“I always gave a shit about you. It was never about NOT giving a shit. I still worried about you. I still LOVED you. None of that ever stopped. Not even for a second.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t know about any of this. You and Alcott being buddies.”

“You know what it’s like in the circle. Everyone’s connected in some way.”

“And you asked him not to tell me. That he knew you.”

“There was no reason for you to know. It didn’t really have any bearing on anything. And it kept Millie and I under the radar; the fewer people who knew where we were and who were connected to, the better.”

“So he just called you and told you I was in prison?”

“Not exactly. Well, I mean, he DID. He was the one who let me know. But before that, he’d shown up in New York. Totally unexpected. And he told me all about the job in Georgia; how it involved your sister-in-law and her kids, and that it was Mia that hired you.”

“And…?”

“And it didn’t sit right. The whole thing just felt ‘off’ to me. I found it really…troublesome…that she sought you out like that. I mean, didn’t seem kind of weird to you? That after years of even knowing she was, she would just show up out of the blue? For something like THAT?”

“It was a little…odd.”

“I didn’t like it. At all. The fact she went looking for you. The fact that she would probably use your son’s death against you; use all that guilt and regret and grief to get you to do what she wanted. You can see why, right? Why I’d think that? Why I’d immediately go in that direction?”

“I’m not saying you were wrong for thinking it.”

“I knew once she did that, you’d go along with it. You’d take the job; not even caring about how risky it was or how dangerous the Nagazi were. So naturally, that made me even more nervous. Knowing you were going into something like that.”

“And Alcott kept you up to date? On what was happening?”

“I asked him to let me know how things went. Like I said, I was worried about you. And I knew all about Davit and Zurab and what they and their people were capable of. It scared me, alright? I didn’t want anything to happen to you. I loved you. You were the father of my daughter. And the thought of her losing you before ever even having you…”

“This is just…” He laughs incredulously and shakes his head. “Wow.”

“I knew exactly when the job started. Day, time. Right down to the very second. And Alcott was supposed to let me know how things went; get a hold of me as soon as you were free and clear from the prison and on your way to Vienna. So I could rest a little easier, you know? Only I didn’t hear from him for a few days. Which got me totally freaked out. I left messages, I sent texts. Nothing. Just silence.”

“And then…”

“And then I put more feelers out. I reached out to other colleagues. People I’d worked with in Europe. Specifically in and around Austria. I knew if anyone could find out if you made it there safe and sound, it would be then. And then they called back and told me that you were alive, but they couldn’t tell me exactly where you were. That I was ‘need to know information’ and I didn’t need to know.”

“So Alcott…”

“He FINALLY got a hold of me. A week later. And he told me what happened in Vienna. How you killed Zurab but ended up getting busted by the cops and thrown in jail. You were going to be there a really long time, and I didn’t want that to happen. You didn’t deserve to be there. All the bad things the Nagazi did? All the horrible shit they inflicted on people? You should have been given a key to the city and a parade in your honour. Even had a day named after you.”

“Whether or not I did the right thing, what we do IS illegal.”

“I didn’t want you rotting away in there. Not for helping people. For getting that kind of trash off the street. And there were selfish reasons, too. For why I wanted you out of there. I already knew I was going to bring Millie to you. It had always been my plan; to take her to her dad before she turned six. And considering you were facing a life sentence, I couldn’t just sit back and do nothing. I wanted Millie to meet you. Have a relationship with you. And that couldn’t happen if you were locked up.”

“You’ve been really busy the last five years, haven’t you.”

“I was caught up in a few things,” Esme admits. “ Nothing that ever put Millie in danger. I’d never do that; take a job that could put her in harm’s way. There was no reason to think things would go so wrong with Alessio. I was so close; to getting all the information I needed. Everything had been so easy. Gone so smoothly. If I ever thought anyone would try and hurt her…”

“I never once thought that. That you’d put her in danger. I know how quickly things can go wrong. And if there was no reason to think that the job would go to shit…”

“Like I said, everything had been so easy. It was all running so smoothly. I would have been finished in a week. Two at the most. I don’t know what happened; I don’t know how things went so badly. But I never would have agreed to help Nik out if I even had the tiniest worry that Millie could be hurt. That’s my little girl. My baby. She’s all I had; my only connection to you. I wouldn’t have agreed to anything that could possibly hurt her. I…”

“Esme, you don’t have to defend yourself. To anyone. Let alone me. I’m the last person who’d ever judge you. All the things I’ve done? You really think I’d think less of you?”

“She’s your daughter, too. It would be really easy for you to be angry. Look what happened. Alessio’s family tried to kill us. It’s only reasonable that you’d be pissed about that.”

“I am pissed about that. But I’m pissed at them, not you. I know how much you love Millie. How well you’ve taken care of her. Look how happy she is. How healthy. How fucking smart. That’s not a kid being raised by a shitty mother.”

“She’s my entire world. I waited so long to be a mom. I’d never do anything that would put her in danger. I’d never…”

“I believe you. I’m not accusing you of anything. I’ve never once thought something like that.”

“The other night you were pretty angry. And you asked me how I could ever put her at risk like that. Why I would even go back to the job with her in the picture. You…”

“I didn’t mean any of that. I was pissed. Hurt. I’m an asshole when I’m going through shit like that. I say things I don’t mean. I’ve always been that way. You know that.”

“Still, there had to be some truth to it, right? To your words? There must have…”

“I love you, Esme. I always have. And I’m sorry that I lashed out like that. Said those things. But I didn’t mean them. I was hurt. And I wanted you to hurt too.”

“Well, you succeeded. Because it did. Hurt. I may have deserved to hear it…”

“You didn’t. You’re the last person who deserves it. It was just me being an insensitive prick. That’s something I need to work on. Not lashing out like that. I don’t want to hurt you. That’s the last thing I want.”

“I guess we both have things we need to work on, huh?”

“There’s a list. Or two. And we’ll get to it when everything settles down. For now, can we go back to what we were originally talking about? Alcott? What happened after he contacted you and told you where I was?”

“I couldn’t let you waste away in jail,” she continues. “They would have kept you in there for the rest of your life. So I asked Alcott if there was any way he could pull some strings. Did he know someone on the inside who could help get you out of there? He arranged a meeting. Between me and his boss. I already knew him; from my time in New York when I was doing freelance work. I’d done a few intel jobs for him. Nothing too major. But if anyone could help, I knew it would be him. That’s a man with a lot of power. A lot of people under his thumb.”

“He is NOT the kind of person you should be mixed up with.”

“I had been offered some work. In Abu Dhabi. That involved one of his biggest rivals. So I made a business proposition; I’d hand over all the information I had and the whereabouts of this person in exchange for getting you out of prison. But he’d only agree if you would be the one to take over; take everything I knew and go after his rival and kill him. It was up to Alcott to offer you the deal; do a job for them and earn your freedom.”

“I can't believe you stuck your nose in that shit.”

“Look, I did it because I love you. Because I always have. Nothing changed in those five years. If anything? Missing you like that? Having a baby…YOUR baby…it made me love you even more. I couldn’t just sit back and do nothing. Let you rot away in that prison. You didn’t deserve to be there. All you did was take out the trash.”

“I did a little more than that.”

“It was all you? That made all that happen?”

“I just came up with the idea. Alcott had to make it happen. He did the hard work.”

“I don’t know, getting in contact with the likes of his boss? That takes some balls. That’s the last person you ever should have trusted.”

“I didn’t have a choice. I had to get you out of there. And I needed help to make it happen. There was no one else. Believe me, if there had been, I would have asked them.”

“You did all of that? Put yourself at risk? For me?”

“Okay, so you may have shot the ever-loving shit out of Vienna. And came very close to burning the entire city to the ground. But it’s not like you didn’t have help.”

He gives a small chuckle.

“I couldn’t leave you there, Tyler. Just like I couldn’t leave you on that bridge in Dhaka. And I got you out of jail just as much for me as I did for you. Because I knew I’d see you again. Because I wanted you to meet Millie and be a part of her life. Finally get to be her dad. And that couldn’t have happened if you were stuck in there.”

He nods slowly as he considers her words.

Pushing her fingers through his, she brings their joined hands to rest on her collarbone and presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “You’re not mad, are you? Please tell me you’re not mad. I didn’t bring it up to cause issues. I just figured we’ve been so open and honest with each other and we both want to keep that going and…”

“I’m not mad in the slightest. I have no reason to be. I’m more surprised than anything; hearing you were involved in all that. I never would have connected any of that to you. Not in a million years.”

“At the time it all went down, I didn’t want you to know it was me. I wasn’t ready; for us to come face to face. I was scared, and I was holding on to so much guilt and regret, and I didn’t want those things ruining it, you know? So I asked Alcott to help me. And before your mind goes there, he helped me as a FRIEND. Nothing more. There never was -and never will be- anything between us.”

“He knows better than to even try. He knows I’d kill him.”

“Always the protective one.” She nuzzles the underside of his chin with the tip of her nose. “Always.”

Smiling, he pecks the bridge of her nose, then rests his brow against his. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Everything.”

“I never stopped worrying about you, Tyler. I worried every second of every day. That something bad would happen, and I’d never get the chance to see you again. Or that you’d ever get a chance to see Millie. Or hear me say that I was sorry.”

“But we did get that chance. All of that happened.”

“It shouldn’t have taken so long.”

“We’re not going to talk about that. Getting into the reasons why. Not right now.” Tightening his hold on her, his hand falls to her hip as she presses herself into his side and rests her head on his chest.

“You know how you always say there’s nothing you wouldn’t do for me? Well, it’s a two-way street. Because there’s nothing I couldn’t do for YOU.”

“I know. Believe me, I KNOW.”

“We take care of each other. It’s what we do. It’s who we are.”

“It’s kinda only gone one way. Taking care of each other. At least until now.”

“Well, in all fairness, I’ve never really given you a chance. To take care of me. And that’s mainly because I don’t get in nearly as much trouble as you do.”

He smirks. “I’m not quite sure about that.”

“For what it’s worth, you’re really good at. The whole taking care of someone thing. It’s a whole different side of you. That you don’t let anyone else see. Just me.”

“There’s a lot of those sides.”

“I’m lucky. You’ve always felt comfortable showing them to me. Right from the start of things. In Dhaka. You never hid them from me. You never hid the REAL you.”

“I never felt a reason to.”

Smiling, she reaches up to once more trace the various scars and cuts that decorate his face. Gentle fingertips glide over old and faded, raised and angry, a nail slowly travelling the entire length and curve of his jaw. “I do love you, you know.”

“Yeah…” Giving her hip a gentle squeeze, he leans down to peck her lips. “...I know.”

[lynnelupin]

Lovable

Remus was in Sirius’s bed. Again. War was threatening to ruin everything and everything was so perfect, the imminent changes were starting to take a toll on everyone, worry and anguish creeping into every thought, every action, every breath. How could everything be all right when soon enough everything would be different? Soon enough, their lives would be full of hurt, full of pain, full of problems. Love was the only thing stopping everyone from spiralling.

“What if we end up at the Potter’s longer than James and Lils?” Asked Sirius.

“Nah, Lily’s still got to try and convince her parents to let her move out, although I think eventually, they’ll end up moving in together whether they let her or not. Anyways your practically their son, so they’ll be chuffed if your still there.” Said Remus, wrapping his arms around Sirius tightly.

“You think?” Said Sirius in a hesitant voice.

“Course, they love you to bits. Although they might get a bit pissed off about you trying to snog me all the time in public.” Sirius chuckled.

“Well, there are worse things we could be doing in public,” Sirius said as he raised his eyebrow.

“Hmm.” “We’re going to live together, forever, right, Moony?”

“Obviously, Padfoot,” Remus said, chuckling at Sirius’s inability to understand how much Remus cared for him. “I love you too much for anything else. We’re going to live together, shop together, eat together,” “Sleep together.” Sirius cut in, laughing. “Yes, an awful lot of sleeping together,” Remus said as Sirius shuffled underneath the covers and tucked his face into Remus’s chest. Silence passed for many moments, before Sirius broke it, mumbling.

“You said you loved me too much for us not to live together, Moony.”

“Hm?” “Why, Moons?” “If you’re just asking me to boost your already massive ego, I most definitely will not,” Remus said, laughing.

“No, I’m generally interested,” Sirius grinned.

“Right,” Remus said, his voice sarcastic and amused. “Well, you’re just one of those people who are really . . .” He paused in thought. “Lovable.”

“So’s James, and you aren’t fucking him.”

“How do you know?” Remus said, trying to keep a straight face.

“Well, are you?” Sirius asked, poker face fully intact.

“Yep. We’ve been having an illicit love affair for years. He is a wonderful lover.” Remus said, exaggerating every word.

“Piss off Moony!” Shouted James from across the dorm.

“Blame Sirius, Prongs!” Remus called back as they clutched each other laughing.

“Please, can you two just shut up so we can get some sleep.” Peter groaned.

“Sorry, Pete, blame Remus!” Sirius replied. “But really, Moony, why?”

“Because you’re the most perfectly imperfect human being I’ve ever been fortunate enough to lay eyes on.” “Me, imperfect? Have you been getting high without me, Remus?”

@wolfstarmicrofic 465 words. <3

Sidenote - how the hell do you spell 'lovable' or 'loveable'? According to google they are both right, but I'm still confused :)

[password-door-lock]

Mystictober Day 14-- Pirate

You've been aboard the Magenta for roughly a day and a half, and in that time, you've come to understand that nothing you thought you knew about pirates was even remotely accurate. They do bathe, thankfully, at least as much as the average person does, and (if your present situation is anything to go on) they do take captives. There have been plenty of opportunities for you to walk the plank in your brief time here, but none have been taken— in fact, the Captain has explicitly prohibited her crew from harming you in any way, even going so far as to put you in the care of her first mate. Still, you have a reputation to maintain as a representative of your kingdom and the heir to its throne.  

“You won't get away with this,” you hiss when Unknown finally makes his way below deck to check on you. It seems like the thing to say in this situation.

He doesn't seem particularly intimidated— then again, he never does. “Is that so, prince(ss)? It seems like I've already gotten away with it. You're here, aren't you?”

You suppose he's technically correct, but he must know what you meant. “My crew will come back for me.” Or the palace will send a fleet of ships, though you doubt they’ll be able to catch the Magenta— assuming she’s the only vessel in the Mint Eye fleet, which she definitely isn't. All that gold needs to go somewhere, after all, and it certainly wouldn't fit aboard a single ship.

“Oh no,” Unknown feigns terror, though it's clear he's trying to restrain his laughter. “Whatever will I do? I couldn't bear to fight them off a second time with twice the crew, while holding onto all their assets!” He cackles. “Really. They don't even have a ship anymore— do you want them to come after us in rowboats?”

“I didn't think of that,” you admit. It is true that the Mint Eye pirates stripped everything of value from your ship before sinking it, but news will reach the palace eventually, and then they’ll send more ships to track you down. Of course, you likely won’t be allowed at sea ever again once you’re returned to your kingdom, and you doubt you’ll have a moment of privacy until you take the throne, for fear of the pirates returning. “But you still won't get away with this.” You're beginning to question this mantra of yours, actually, no matter how many times you say it— but Unknown doesn't need to know that. Apparently, plundering ships and wielding a sword can burden a person with a very impressive ego.

He shakes his head. “You know that's not true, prince(ss).”

“What do you want with me, anyway?” You still don't fully understand. You have yet to so much as converse with Captain Rika, and her first mate has either been sworn to secrecy or (more likely) found a great deal of enjoyment in stringing you along— which is to say that he has not answered a single one of your sundry questions.

“You don't need to know that.” Unknown establishes himself across from you, placing both elbows on the table as if to claim it, just as he seems to claim everything that falls under his gaze. Perhaps that sort of behavior is par for the course in his line of work. “But I already told you I'd be good to you.”

That's a subjective promise, though you are reluctantly willing to admit that he hasn't broken it so far. He's given you regular meals, clothes to wear, and a bed to rest in, though the latter two provisions are clearly his own, and you have yet to sleep a wink since boarding the Magenta. Unknown kept his lantern on all night as he made an extensive entry in some sort of log book, and you get the feeling that tonight will be no different. “You're holding me against my will.” Though that is not much different from your situation at the palace— why else would you have taken to the sea? At least this arrangement will give you stories to tell and something to do with your time.

Unknown rolls his striking green eyes. He’s certainly handsome, if you like men who board ships that aren’t theirs and leave with gold that doesn’t belong to them. “You're welcome to leave at any time.”

“But I don't have a boat!” And you wouldn't know how to get it to land if you did have it, though you neglect to share this with Unknown. He would find it funny, no doubt, and mock you for your pitiful lack of what he considers “basic skills.” Of course, your upbringing, much like his, was anything but basic.

“Hm,” Unknown pretends to consider the trap he's sprung for you. “Then it looks like you'll be staying here for a while, prince(ss). May as well make yourself comfortable.” He smirks at you, knowing very well that he’s already won. There was never a battle to be had— if anybody had bothered to ask you, you’d have chosen the Magenta over the palace any day. 

“You're insufferable,” you complain, though, in truth, your discussions with Unknown have been the highlight of your time aboard this vessel. He's certainly the most interesting person you've ever met, and he's easy on the eyes, as well— not that this matters to you. Your assessment of his character is entirely objective, regardless of any feelings of attraction that you may or may not be harboring. “Did you know that?”

“Mhm,” he smirks, rising to lean all the way across the table so that he can speak close to your ear. “But you like me.”

You bite your lip, more to restrain your laughter than anything else. Though it's strange, you feel at ease around Unknown— or, more at ease than you ever felt in the palace, at least. The courtiers expected you to play the role of a proper royal heir, but here, you feel no obligation to be anyone but yourself— and though you know he’d never admit it, you get the feeling that Unknown is interested in more than whatever you might be able to bring him. Though, if he’s seeking a ransom, you could certainly bring him quite a lot. “I don't see how that's relevant.”

Unknown just laughs. “Cute,” he decides, stepping away. “Now, be quiet while I finish my work.”

You roll your eyes but say nothing. Yes, you could get used to being a pirate, you decide. It can’t be all bad, if you get to stay with him. 

[insfiringyou]

https://at.tumblr.com/insfiringyou/if-they-werent-famous-and-i-just-met-them-as/1rppr5j62lrb

trueee, but like what makes me love yoongi it’s not only his personality, but also how he views things and he deals with them. He’s not just a really good boyfriend he’s a good human in general. I mean, he’s patient, comprehensive, selfless… I mean this man does so many good things and IT’S GENUINE, like the part where his gf sit on his face for the first time: “with him it never felt like he was returning a favor or performing a chore” I MEAN 😭😭😭😭 most guys definitely act in bed like everything is returning favors, “if I did that you’ll have to do and vice versa” or they do it because they want to boost their ego like “Yeah look how skilled I am 😎” with yoongi is so beautiful because he does it simply because he likes it and wants to see her feel good it doesn’t matter if she will return or not (thank god he found jeongsun because she’s also like this sometimes) and most important he’s honest and vulnerable on the relationship. He’s so emotionally responsible, he never lets his frustrations and insecurities get in the way of things or lashes out to others (specially his object of love Jeongsun). like he was cheated on by his ex he could have turn into a total jerk with the excuse of “yeah someone was shitty to me and now I’m gonna be shitty with the rest of the people because I’ve been a good guy and only got disappointed” or play with his next partner’s feelings because “ugh I’m so traumatized by relationships so I’m gonna use my insecurities as an excuse to be an asshole because yeah it’s you who gotta fix me” (let’s be honest 99,9% of the guys act/would act like this 🤡) this is one of the proofs that he’s a kind human in general, he’s not good because he expects something in return he’s good simply because he is and he knows that no one has anything to do with his personal problems I mean ofc he would like if someone helps him to get through something difficult times, but he would never think that this is someone’s obligation. Also since he’s responsible emotionally I think he understands himself so he would never fall in love with a fantasy (like “I love her because she’s my savior” or simply because he’s lonely and that makes him desperate to find someone and he falls for any person who’s a potential perfect love for him) he falls for the PERSON, the actual person, the human that’s with him… this is so wholesome and I really wish people would give more thought to their emotions to avoid this kind of situations because honestly this is one of the main reasons why people are always disappointed with each other.

Anyways… Yoongi in your universe is an amazing, sweet, gentle, caring soul. I’ll cry myself to sleep every night dreaming with him lmfao

I know this is an old ask so don't know if you will even see this, but this really solidifies how we intend to show Yoongi (and Jeong-sun) in their relationship. I also think, in part, it is why we chose to write his earlier encounter with Kim, who was one of his first serious girlfriends, who did cheat on him. In a way, we feel it is such an important experience and also shapes who he is a lot. You may have noticed him (very very briefly) mention her, though not by name, to Jeong-sun. He never mentions the cheating. He never says a bad thing about her. It is always just tiny anecdotes - blink and you'll miss it. He wasn't bitter about it. He was sad for a long time, but it hasn't shaped how he views women, or relationships. It was just a bad experience, with someone who made a bad mistake.

I also agree with the not falling in love with a fantasy part. He did come close, around the time of the fic 'Stranded' (when he initially proposed to Jeong-sun and she turned him down) and in the few fics leading up to that. He was under a lot of pressure, from the group, from his desire to be 'normal' and make his unintentionally secret relationship work, that he ended up romanticising his relationship in a way which wasn't fair on either of them, and was, in part, the reason she had to break up with him. When they meet again, some years later, he approaches it with the respect it deserves, and is self-aware that if they are going to make it work properly he needs to take a step back and do it for the right reasons.

However, he fell in love with her for her, both times. And she him. For us as writers, them falling in love all over again was actually more special in a way, and I think just as exciting if not more, for readers. I held my breath when their hands skimmed again for the first time...and then both of us cried!

[whats-wild-to-you]

“do u even love me” angst (the girl says it)

with a reconciliation plz 👉🏻👈🏻

I knew you was spoiled by Jay when he was with me everyday. I had convinced myself it was by choice even though I knew the pandemic was to blame for it. But once he started traveling, he was away a lot. I felt bad in the beginning, wishing he’d ask me to join him.

The trips had gotten longer too. While initially he traveled in and out of a country in less than 24 hours, he now stayed away for days. I hated it, acting like a spoiled little girl, but only because I missed him. He didn’t seem to know. Or care.

‘I have to do this! I have a lot to make up for.’ He would then say and change the subject.

I wanted to scream ‘Take me with you!’, but I knew I was being unreasonable.

It had to come from him. And apparently he was completely fine leaving me behind.

Get a grip!, my inner voice said. It’s work! Why would he take you with him?

But when summer rolled around he did exactly that. Adding vacation days to his overseas trips. I felt like an ass for complaining, he absolutely deserved a day or two off but I was mad that it never occurred to him to ask me to come along. My job allowed it so why was he hesitating?

Doubts started bubbling up inside me. Was he not inviting me on purpose? Was he fed up with me, did he need time apart?

All signs pointed to ‘yes’ and I was dreading the confrontation we’d likely had to have.

Clearing my throat to make my presence known, I leaned against the door watching him pack his bags for yet another trip.

“Leaving again?” I tried to mask the disappointment in my voice as he yet again failed to tell me about it in advance.

“I’m going to the States for some business and then I’ll fly to Seattle for a few days. I’ll be gone a week tops.”

I debated with my inner self, then sighed. The irrational, emotional part of me won. “Do you even love me?”

His hands stopped mid-air and he threw the previously neatly folded shirt into his suitcase. He was angry.

“I thought we talked about this. There are certain things I have to do. It’s part of my job.”

“I understand that. But lately it feels like I’m being left out on purpose.”

“I’m sorry if you feel that way, but I can’t stay and soothe your ego right now. I have a flight to catch.”

He zipped up his bags and practically ran out of the room. No hug, no kiss goodbye. I scoffed loudly but even that didn’t phase him.

Hours passed before I realized I had been sitting in the same spot on the bed.

I should just pack my things and leave too. Give him a dose of his own medicine. See how he likes it.

But I couldn’t. I loved him. Even though his own feelings for me might be fading, it didn’t change a thing about my feelings for him.

Curling up into a ball, I cried myself to sleep that night. But the next morning I got out of bed, promising myself to not drown in melancholy. I’d sit down and talk to Jay once he returned. Until then I’d waste no thought on him.

That day came sooner than I expected. He had said he’d be gone for a week, but then returned after four days.

It was already past midnight. I had been unable to fall asleep, as the nights before, so I decided to read something. The familiar melody of the key lock alerted my senses and I sat up on the bed. Then I got out of bed and sat down on the stool of my vanity.

Listening in, I realized he went to the guest bathroom to wash up so he wouldn’t wake me up and something tugged at my heart.

He cares.

I waited until he slowly pushed the door open and mumbled a silent hi when our eyes met.

He kept something hidden behind his back and approached me slowly. When he stood in front of me, he dropped to his knees, revealing what he had hidden behind him.

A giant bouquet of pink and violet flowers appeared an inch away from my face and I hesitantly took it. Jay looked remorseful, but knew that simply looking sorry wouldn’t be enough.

“I’m sorry.”

It wasn’t a blanket apology even though it sounded like one. We both knew exactly what he was apologizing for.

Now it was my turn to admit my wrongs.

“I felt neglected and lashed out. I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry too!”

“You had every right to be mad. I’m an idiot. Please forgive me?”

Although I toyed with the idea of making him wait a little longer, in the end I knew I could stay mad at him.

“Let’s just go to bed.” I said, grabbing his hand. He squeezed my hand and a smile appeared on his face. “I haven’t been sleeping well since you left and I’m exhausted.”

“Me, too!” He whispered while he pulled back the covers.

“How come you’re back early?” I asked, finally nestled in his warm embrace.

“I realized what an idiot I was and took the next flight home.” He said, planting a firm kiss on top of my head. “Sleep now! I have no schedules tomorrow and I plan to spent the day here with you.”

“Here, here? In bed?” I chuckled in delight.

Jay didn’t answer, just hummed after a few seconds and I knew he was drifting off to sleep.

Breathing in his familiar scent, I, too, allowed myself to be lulled into sleep.