#he's having a full blown identity crisis

[syrupmap]

With an important addition (Benton has an update)

[daeniradraconis]

Age Is Just a Number…Right? - Luke Hughes

Summary: Luke. Age gap. Jack being a menace as usual, making sure you're not getting away that easy. Warning: Implied sexual situations, mature language, flirtation, age gap (6 years)

Note: Hey, lovelies! So, originally, this fic was all about Macklin Celebrini and Will Smith, but then I realized—Will is 19, and honestly, he’s just a baby to me. Even if he said he loves older woman. Boy go back to kinder garden. (Sorry Will, love you, I promise!) So, I decided to swap in the Hughes boys instead. I’ve gotta be honest, it gave me a bit of a headache. Now, this started as a quick, short fic. I swear, I had every intention of keeping it short. But, well… 7048 words later, here we are. I got hit with a ton of ideas and feelings, and the story just kind of... grew on me. You’ll probably notice the tone/style shifts halfway through, and I’m definitely sorry for that!

But hey, I hope you all enjoy it despite the wild ride! ❤️ For more fun: masterlist

The first thing you notice is warmth.

A heavy arm draped over your waist. The steady rise and fall of breath against the back of your neck. The scent of clean laundry, cologne, and something distinctly him clinging to the pillow beside you.

The second thing you notice—you are not in your own bed.

Your stomach flips as your brain reboots, sluggishly piecing together fragments of last night.

The blind date.

Luke.

His charming smile. The way his chestnut curls fell into his eyes when he laughed. The way he leaned in when you spoke, like you were the only person in the room. The teasing brush of his fingers against yours when he reached for his drink. The electricity that crackled between you when you finally caved—when he kissed you outside the bar, his hands firm at your waist, his body pressing into yours like he couldn’t help himself.

And then… more.

Your face burns as memory after memory floods in. His hands, his mouth, the way he whispered your name like it meant something.

Nope. Not thinking about that.

Carefully, you shift beneath the covers, untangling yourself from his hold. Luke stirs but doesn’t wake, his arm slipping away as you ease yourself upright.

That’s when it really hits you.

He looks so young.

His chestnut curls are a mess, his lips slightly parted, his entire face softened in sleep. He looks… peaceful. Innocent, almost.

A strange unease settles in your stomach.

Your gaze flickers around the unfamiliar room. It’s nice but lived-in—hockey gear shoved into the corner, a few discarded clothes on a chair. Your eyes land on the nightstand, where his wallet sits slightly open.

You don’t mean to snoop. You really don’t.

But something about last night nags at you.

Just a quick peek. Just to make sure.

Fingers trembling, you reach for it, flip it open.

And your heart stops.

Luke Hughes. Age: 21.

Twenty fucking one.

As in, young enough to still pull all-nighters for fun. As in, could still be in college.

And you? You are twenty-seven.

Oh. My. God.

Your hands fly to your phone as you furiously type out a message to your friend.

"WHAT THE HELL?! YOU SET ME UP WITH A 21-YEAR-OLD. I AM A GROWN WOMAN. I PAY FOR MY OWN HEALTH INSURANCE."

No response.

Coward.

Panic thrums in your veins as you stare at Luke—still peacefully asleep, completely unaware that you are having a full-blown identity crisis in his bed.

You need to leave. Now.

Right?

But for some reason, you hesitate.

Because Luke… Luke is the first guy in a long time who actually made you interested. Who made you laugh so hard you snorted into your drink. Who listened—really listened—when you talked, instead of just waiting for his turn to speak. And, well. The man or more like a boy, had managed to get you to orgasm. Twice!

Which, considering your track record, felt almost miraculous.

Your past partners had barely managed to get you there once—if at all.

And now you’re just supposed to sneak out of here like it never happened? Like he was just another bad decision?

Your stomach twists.

But then you glance at the wallet again. Twenty-one.

Yeah. You need to go.

Sliding out of bed as silently as possible, you scan the room for your clothes. Your shirt is on the floor, your jeans halfway under the bed. You grab them quickly, yanking them on with the precision of someone defusing a bomb. Bra? Found. Socks? One is missing, but you’ll live.

Once fully dressed, you tiptoe to the door. Your shoes. They’re outside the room. You remember kicking them off in the hallway.

One deep breath.

You ease the door open, peeking into the dimly lit living room.

Empty.

Good.

You take two careful steps out, eyes locked on your shoes near the front door. Almost there. Just a few more—

“Busted.”

You scream.

Not a blood-curdling horror movie scream, but a very real, very startled yelp that absolutely does not help you maintain any dignity in this situation.

Your body jolts like you’ve just been electrocuted, arms flailing wildly as you spin toward the voice.

There, sprawled across the couch, is a guy watching you like this is the best morning of his life.

Tall. Ridiculously handsome. Light brown hair, messy in a way that suggests he just woke up. Sharp cheekbones. Blue eyes filled with pure mischief.

And a smirk so unbearably smug that you immediately want to punch it off his face.

You clutch your chest, heart racing. “Jesus Christ, who the hell are you?!”

The guy grins wider. “Damn. Didn’t even recognize me? That hurts.”

“Am I supposed to?”You blink, still catching your breath.

His smirk falters for half a second before returning full force. “Oh, that’s good. That’s really good.” He tilts his head, studying you like you’re some kind of rare specimen. “You actually have no idea who I am, do you?”

“Why the hell would I?” Your frown deepens.

He lets out a dramatic sigh, like this is somehow the greatest tragedy to ever befall him.

“You’re telling me,” he starts, sitting up slightly, resting his arms on his knees, fully entertained, “that you came home with my brother, slept with him, and have no idea who we are?”

Your stomach drops.

Brother?

You knew Luke had brothers—he mentioned it—but you had no idea they were famous.

Your eyes flick toward the bedroom, then back to him. “You’re—wait, you’re one of Luke’s brothers?”

He snorts. “Wow. No recognition at all. That is humbling.”

“Should I recognize you?” You narrow your eyes at him.

“Oh, I don’t know.” He shrugs, mock-offended, but there’s a glint of amusement in his eyes. “I guess I’m only one of the most famous people in this city.”

You blink, a little thrown off. “…You’re a local weatherman?”

He chokes, eyes widening. “A what?!”

“You’re acting like I should know you,” you say, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t keep up with the news, but you definitely have the vibe of a guy who points at maps for a living.”

He definitely doesn’t. If anything, he looks more like a kooky stripper with an annoyingly fit body. But there’s no way you’re feeding his ego—this idiot would probably take it as a compliment.

For a split second, he just stares at you, his mouth hanging slightly open.

Then, as if the tension snaps, he howls—full-body laughter, throwing his head back and wiping a fake tear from his eye.

“Oh my God,” he wheezes, clutching his stomach. “This is the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

You cross your arms, trying to mask the irritation bubbling up. “Glad I could contribute to your morning entertainment.”

“No, you don’t get it,” he says between gasps for air, leaning forward with an infectious grin. “This is amazing. Incredible. I live for moments like this.”

You raise an eyebrow, your patience wearing thin. “Moments like what?” you snap, unable to hide the rising edge in your voice. Honestly, you’re just relieved Luke didn’t inherit Jack’s over-the-top, obnoxious personality. If he had, you probably would’ve bailed on this blind date five minutes in.

“Moments where I get to witness something so spectacularly awkward, so painfully embarrassing, that it will sustain me for weeks.”

You glare at him with pure annoyance. “I hate you already.”

He clutches his chest dramatically. “Ouch. That wounds me.”

“You’ll survive.”

“Oh, no doubt.” He smirks, and for a moment, it almost reminds you of Luke—though the two brothers couldn’t look more different. But that same confidante smile? It’s unmistakable. “Especially since I now have the upper hand in every conversation we ever have from here on out.”

“We’re never having another conversation after this!” You try to sound firm, but your voice cracks, betraying you.

He just grins wider, shaking his head like he’s heard that before. “That’s what you think.”

You exhale sharply, fed up with the entire exchange. “Look, I’m leaving. Forget you ever saw me.”

“Not a chance.” He leans back against the couch, thoroughly amused. “You’re trying to sneak out of my baby brother’s room like a damn criminal. This is gold.”

You scowl again. “I’m not sneaking out.” You fumble with your shoes, trying to get them on while defending yourself. Luckily, the hallway and living room are one open space, making your escape a bit less awkward.

“You literally just tiptoed past me like you’re starring in Mission Impossible.”

You groan. "I was trying not to wake him up." Rolling your eyes, you keep wrestling with your damn laces—of all times to betray you, it had to be now. Frustration bubbles up as you huff, "I need to go."

Jack cocks an eyebrow. "Why?"

You freeze mid-motion, exhaling hard through your nose. "...Just because."

"That's not an answer." His arms fold across his chest, his gaze pressing into you like he’s daring you to crack.

Your stomach twists. Heat rises to your face. You don’t want to say it, don’t want to give him the satisfaction—but the words rip out anyway.

“Because I just found out I slept with a 21-year-old, okay?! I’m 27. That’s a six-year difference! That’s a whole presidential term and a little extra! That’s a—”

You stop, realizing how ridiculous it sounds now that you're saying it.

Jack stares at you, blinking. There’s a long silence before you speak again, but his expression shows no understanding of the mental chaos you’re in.

You sigh and tug at your hair in frustration. “I wasn’t expecting this. I thought maybe he was older, and now… I just don’t know how to feel.”

Jack, for the first time, softens his teasing expression. But it’s clear he doesn’t quite get what you’re saying.

“Well,” he shrugs casually, “you’re still not leaving. You’re stuck here until Luke wakes up.”

“No, I’m not.” You shake your head, stubborn.

“Yes, you are!”

Before you can argue, you hear movement from the bedroom.

“Jack, why are you yelling?”

Shit.

You freeze.

Jack just grins wider.

You turn, and there he is—Luke, standing in the hallway, shirtless, hair an absolute mess, looking at you with adorable confusion.

Jack smirks. “Oh, you know. Just chatting with your date about how she was totally about to dip.”

“Wait. You’re leaving?” Luke’s voice is a mix of confusion and hurt, and suddenly, you feel a wave of guilt wash over you.

You shift awkwardly, caught in the middle of it all. “I just… didn’t want to wake you.”

Jack snickers. “Translation: she found out you’re barely legal and panicked.”

Luke’s eyes flick to his nightstand, where his wallet still sits open.

“…Wait. Is this about my age?" He sounds confused—adorably so. Too adorably.

You open your mouth, but Jack is already cackling.

“Oh, it absolutely is,” Jack says, shaking his head. “She took one look at that ID and nearly had a full-blown existential crisis.”

Your face flushes deep red. Jesus, you really can’t stand that blue-eyed bastard.

Luke blinks, then sighs, clearly frustrated a little bit. “So, last night was… amazing, but now it’s a problem because I’m 21?”

You shift uneasily. “It’s not a problem, exactly. It’s just…”

Jack grins mischievously. “Hilarious?”

You glare at him, a mix of embarrassment and irritation burning through you. “Not the word I was going for.”

Luke tilts his head, watching you closely. “Did it feel weird last night?”

Your face instantly flames. “LUKE.”

Jack cackles. “Ohhh my God, this is so good.”

Luke shrugs nonchalantly. “I’m just saying. You didn’t seem to mind my age when you were begging for—”

You lunge at him, quickly slapping a hand over his mouth. “Don’t. You. Dare.”

Jack, leaning in with barely contained joy, grins wider. “Oh, no, let’s hear it! This is the best! I live for this shit.”

You whip around, shooting daggers. “Do you really have to be here?”

Jack places a hand over his chest, feigning innocence. "Of course I do. I’m just the clueless bystander, watching your meltdown. It’s my duty as a brother. How else am I supposed to tease Lukey later?"

Luke licks his lips, glancing between you and Jack. “Wait… so you’re really freaking out over this?”

You sigh, your frustration starting to boil over. "I just… didn’t realize you were so young."

Jack snickers from the side, clearly enjoying himself. “Oh, no, I think she’s just overthinking it. But hey, it’s cute.”

Luke shoots him a glare. “Jack.”

Jack raises his hands, completely unbothered. “I’m just here to state the obvious.”

You groan, feeling a headache start to form at the base of your skull. "Can I just… go? Please?" The words come out sharper than you mean, but you’re too tired to care.

Luke looks at you, his gaze softening with that same sleepy affection from last night. You almost hate how it makes your chest ache. "You really want to leave?"

You pause for a long moment, considering.

And truthfully?

No.

You don’t.

Last night wasn’t just a fling—it was Luke.

Luke, who had you laughing through dinner, making you feel like you were the only person in the world. He treated you like you were someone worth admiring, someone worth cherishing. And when he kissed you, it felt like the first rainstorm after a drought, washing away everything but the two of you.

And now he’s standing there, messy-haired and sleepy-eyed, looking at you like he’s trying to figure out what’s going through your mind.

Jack, sensing the shift, leans back dramatically. “Ohhh, she’s thinking about it.”

You glare. “Shut up, Jack.”

Jack smirks like a little kid in the candy shop. “Nope.”

Luke lets out a heavy sigh, rubbing his face with both hands, his puppy like eyes softening as he looks at you. "Alright," he mutters, a playful smile tugging at his lips. "Let me make you breakfast before you decide I’m too young to function."

Jack perks up from the couch. “Oh, hell yeah. Stay. Luke makes a mean omelet.”

Luke shoots Jack a teasing glare, his eyes rolling in exasperation as he half-smirks. "Why are you even involved in this?" he says, clearly annoyed but with a playful edge, like he can’t decide if he should laugh or strangle his brother.

Jack shrugs dramatically. “Because I live for chaos.”

You hesitate for a moment, staring at Luke as you battle the urge to stay or run.

“…Fine. One omelet.”

Jack fist-pumps the air. “YES.”

Luke grins like he’s already won. “Good. Because I was going to make you stay anyway.”

—

You don’t know how you ended up here.

One second, you were committed to sneaking out like a thief in the night. The next?

You’re standing in Luke Hughes’ kitchen, watching him move around with annoying ease, pulling eggs and cheese out of the fridge like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Jack, of course, is sitting at the kitchen island, grinning like the mischievous idiot he is.

“You look tense,” he observes, propping his chin in his hand and resting his elbows on his knees. “Regretting staying already?”

You shoot him a withering look. “I regret a lot of things. Letting you talk this morning is at the top of the list.”

Jack gasps dramatically, clutching his chest. “Ouch. And here I was, being such a warm and welcoming host.”

You roll your eyes. “You ambushed me.”

Jack shrugs casually, sipping his coffee. “Semantics.”

Luke, bless him, doesn’t engage. He simply smirks to himself as he cracks an egg into a pan, clearly used to Jack’s shenanigans. “Jack, are you actually gonna eat, or are you just here to be annoying?”

“Oh, I ate already. I’m just here for the show.”

You narrow your eyes at him, a smirk playing at the corner of your mouth. “Seriously, what’s your deal? You get some kind of thrill out of torturing me?”

He’s an asshole, but damn, he’s the kind of asshole that almost makes you laugh.

Jack flashes a devilish grin, clearly enjoying the chaos he's creating. "You're sharp. I like that. Smart women are way more fun to mess with." He leans back, arms crossed, his eyes twinkling with mischief as if he's already plotting his next move.

Luke huffs a laugh, the sound full of fond exasperation. He rolls his eyes, his messy hair falling into his face as he nudges Jack with his shoulder. “Just ignore him. He thrives on being a menace,” he says, shaking his head, but you can tell he's not actually mad.

Jack grins even wider, clearly proud of himself. “Yep. It’s what I do best,” he says, puffing out his chest like he’s just announced some kind of grand achievement.

You rest your elbows on the table, watching as Luke flips an omelet with impressive skill. “Okay, I’ll bite—how did you get so good at this?”

“Gotta learn some life skills when you live with Jack. Otherwise, you starve." He shoots his brother a pointed look, one that’s half annoyance, half fondness.

Jack scoffs, dramatically pressing a hand to his chest like he’s been wronged. "That’s unfair. I provide entertainment." His voice is teasing, but there’s a clear twinkle in his eye.

Luke snorts, barely stifling a laugh. "Entertainment doesn’t make up for the fact that you once tried to microwave a frozen pizza."

Your head snaps up at that, eyebrows shooting up in disbelief. "I’m sorry, what?"

Jack groans, cheeks flushing with a rare hint of embarrassment. "It was one time, and the oven took too long!" he mutters defensively, but you can see the red creeping up his neck.

Luke smirks, his eyes gleaming with mischief as he gestures vaguely toward the stove. "You almost burned the apartment down," he points out, no trace of sympathy in his voice.

Jack waves a dismissive hand. "That’s an exaggeration," he says, clearly attempting to downplay the incident, but his voice betrays the tiniest hint of guilt.

Luke shoots you a sly look, his eyes dancing with amusement as he leans in, like he’s about to let you in on a secret. “The microwave was smoking,” he adds, his voice dropping low, the tone almost playful—like he’s about to drop some juicy gossip.

Your jaw drops in disbelief. "Oh my God."

Luke, clearly pleased with the chaos he’s caused, gestures at Jack with the spatula like he’s just won some kind of victory. "See? This is why I learned how to cook."

Jack grins wide, unbothered. "And I get to reap the benefits, so really, we both win," he says with a cheeky shrug, as if his utter lack of skill somehow balances out Luke’s culinary expertise.

You laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. "I don’t know how you put up with him."

Luke smirks,"It’s a daily struggle," he says, voice deadpan, but the small curve of his lips gives away the amusement he’s trying to hide.

Jack grins, shaking his head slightly. “Oh, the betrayal. I’m crushed,” he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm, though the smirk gives him away.

Luke just rolls his eyes and slides the finished omelet onto a plate before setting it down in front of you.

You look down at it, genuinely impressed by how perfect it looks. Then, you glance back at Luke, a little taken aback. "Not gonna lie… this looks really good."

Luke’s grin widens, his eyes briefly locking with yours, the kind of connection that makes the moment feel charged. "Told you."

You pick up your fork, still a little skeptical, and take a bite. Holy hell.

Your eyes go wide in surprise. "Oh my God. This is actually amazing."

Jack leans in, looking smug...again. "See? I wasn’t lying." He gives you a little wink, clearly basking in the moment like he’s somehow been proven right.

Luke smirks, pleased by the compliment. “I take my breakfast very seriously.”

“Clearly. This might be the best decision I’ve made today.” You shake your head, chewing.

Jack gasps dramatically. “Wow. So staying was a better decision than leaving?”

You pause, realizing what you just admitted.

Jack grins like he’s just scored a win, and for a second, you seriously consider wiping that smug look off his face.

Luke’s smile, however, is filled with pure happiness, as if this moment is exactly what he’s been waiting for.

You sigh, stabbing your omelet. “I’m never gonna live this down, am I?”

Jack beams. “Absolutely not.”

Luke leans closer, his voice suddenly lower, more intimate. “I mean, I’m glad you stayed. It’s not every day I get a pretty girl in my kitchen, making my morning way more interesting.”

You freeze, fork halfway to your mouth. His words hang in the air, electric.

“Oh, so now I’m ‘pretty,’ huh?” you tease, trying to maintain your composure, though your heart skips a beat.

Luke raises an eyebrow, a slow, confident smile curling on his lips. “Oh, I thought that was obvious.” His gaze flickers down to your lips, his voice dropping even lower. “You’ve been keeping me on my toes since I woke up.”

Your cheeks warm, but you force yourself to look away, focusing on your omelet. “Flattery won’t make me forget about you being 21.”

Luke’s grin widens, and he leans in a little closer, lowering his voice just enough that only you can hear. “Maybe not. But I think it’s a pretty good start.”

Jack, completely oblivious to the flirtation unfolding right under his nose, leans back on the kitchen island with a self-satisfied grin. “God, I can’t believe I’m witnessing this. I thought I was supposed to be the one who charmed the ladies.”

Luke snorts, rolling his eyes at his brother but keeping his focus on you. “Jack’s the type to talk about it. I’m the type to show it.”

Your breath catches in your throat. That was smooth. Really smooth.

You take another bite of your omelet, trying to hide the smile spreading across your face. “You sure you don’t just want me to stay for the food?”

Luke leans back, his gaze softening as he gently takes your left hand in his, his thumb slowly tracing circles over your knuckles. “I mean… if that’s your only reason for sticking around, I won’t complain,” he murmurs, a playful yet tender smile curving his lips. “But I like to think I’ve got more to offer than just my cooking skills.”

His words, along with the warmth in his eyes, wash over you like a wave, pulling you in deeper. You lock eyes with him, your breath catching as your pulse quickens. There’s something in the way he’s looking at you, something that makes it impossible to think straight.

Then Jack clears his throat loudly, and you break the spell, feeling a little embarrassed.

“Alright, alright,” Jack says, clearly enjoying the discomfort he’s just caused. “I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone so you can finish your breakfast in peace. No need to make me a third wheel.”

You roll your eyes, but Luke doesn’t seem to mind. He just shrugs, unfazed.

“Good idea. Go entertain yourself, Jack.”

Jack winks. “Don’t mind if I do.” He stands up and heads for the door, adding, “You two just make sure to keep it PG—some of us don’t need to see that much chemistry before our coffee kicks in.”

You watch as Jack exits, still grinning like the mischievous brat he is.

As the door clicks behind Jack, the quiet of the kitchen settles in, leaving just you and Luke alone, the lingering tension between you two impossible to ignore. Luke shifts, his hands still resting on your hands as he pulls you gently into his lap. Your heart beats a little faster at the sudden closeness, but you refuse to let the thrill of it distract you from the conversation you know needs to happen.

You take a deep breath, looking up into his eyes—eyes that are soft but hold that familiar spark of mischief, the kind that makes it hard to think straight. He tilts his head slightly, a playful smirk tugging at his lips as he runs his thumb over your hand, tracing slow circles. The warmth of his touch makes your breath hitch, but you bite your lip, determined to have this talk.

“Luke,” you start, your voice softer than you intended, “We need to talk about last night. About... us.”

Luke's expression changes, the playful gleam fading into something more intense. He doesn’t pull away, though. Instead, he tightens his grip on your waist, pulling you just a little closer, and his voice drops an octave. “I thought we were past talking. I thought we were just... enjoying each other.”

His words make your pulse quicken, but you hold firm. You need to address this.

“I’m serious,” you say, your voice steady, though your chest betrays you with its nervous flutter. “I need to know where this is going, Luke. You’re 21, I’m 27. That’s a six-year difference. I’ve been through more in my life. I want a family soon. I want stability. Not... something fleeting.”

Luke’s gaze darkens, and his thumb continues its slow, soothing motion over your skin, but there’s a new intensity in his eyes. He’s quiet for a moment, absorbing your words. The air feels thick with unspoken thoughts, the weight of what you’ve just said hanging between you.

“You think I don’t want the same things?” he asks, his voice steady but with a sharp edge, not defensive—more... thoughtful. “I’m not some kid just looking for a fling. I’ve thought this through. I’m looking for something real. I’ve spent too much time in meaningless situations to want that anymore. I went to our date because I was looking for something serious. And my friend told me you’d be looking for the same thing.”

He lets your words settle, his eyes never leaving yours. “After spending the night talking with you, I felt like I wasn’t just talking to someone who’s interesting—I felt like I was talking to someone who gets it. Someone who’s looking for the same kind of connection. I’m not here for something that’ll fizzle out in a few weeks. I’m here because... I think you might be the person I’ve been waiting for.”

His words hit you in a way you weren’t prepared for. You’re caught off guard, unsure how to respond, but something stirs inside you. Something warm, something you didn’t expect. You can feel the truth of what he’s saying in your chest, and for the first time, you start to question the assumptions you’d made.

“Yeah, but you’re still figuring things out,” you say, your voice shaky now, a trace of worry creeping in. “You’re just starting out in life. Maybe you don’t want the same kind of commitment I do. I need someone who’s already ready to settle down.”

Luke doesn’t hesitate. His fingers slide up to your jaw, his touch firm but tender, like he’s grounding you to the moment. His gaze holds yours, no longer playful, but filled with something deeper. Something real.

“I’m ready for that,” he murmurs, his voice soft but full of conviction. “I know what I want. And I want you. If you’re worried about my age, let me show you I’m more than just a number.”

His words are almost a whisper, but there’s a quiet confidence in them that sends a thrill through you. His lips are so close now, you can feel his breath on your skin as he leans in, his forehead resting against yours. “I’m not asking for a lifetime yet, but I’m asking for the chance to prove myself. To prove that I’m capable of giving you the kind of future you want.”

You close your eyes, your breath catching in your throat. He’s not backing down, and the sincerity in his words leaves you no room to doubt him. But still, you can’t help but voice the doubts that swirl in your mind.

“I don’t want to get hurt, Luke,” you whisper, finally letting yourself admit the fear you’ve been pushing down. “I’ve been through enough heartache. And if you don’t want the same things I do, if you’re not ready for it... I don’t know if I can take that risk.”

Luke leans in just a little more, his lips brushing against your cheek before he pulls back slightly, his hands cradling your face. He’s close enough that you can feel the warmth of his skin, the steadiness of his gaze. “I’m ready for you. Ready for everything that comes with it,” he says, his voice resolute. “I wouldn’t be here, sitting with you like this, if I wasn’t.”

You search his eyes for any sign of hesitation, but there’s none. What you see instead is determination—an unspoken promise that, for all his age, he knows what he wants and is willing to fight for it.

The air between you two shifts, the quiet between you no longer heavy with doubt, but filled with something new. Something that makes your pulse race.

“Okay,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “Then show me.”

At that, his lips crash against yours, the kiss deep and slow, filled with all the unspoken things you’ve both been dancing around. His hands slide to your back, pulling you closer as the kiss deepens. Your hands find their way to his curls, tugging him in as if you can’t get close enough. The world around you fades away—there’s only the feeling of his mouth against yours, the pressure of his body against yours, the shared certainty that whatever this is, it’s more than just physical.

When you finally pull away, both breathless, Luke grins, his forehead resting against yours. 

Luke leans back a little bit, his eyes gleaming with that mischievous glint as he watches you, a teasing smile playing at the corners of his lips. "You know," he says casually, his voice thick with satisfaction, "I have to admit... I’ve never had a night quite like that. You really know how to use that beautiful mouth of yours."

You glance over at him, raising an eyebrow. "Oh? What do you mean?"

Luke shifts a little closer, his grin widening. "Well, I’ve had my fair share of nights, but... last night? You...You were next level. Honestly, I wasn’t expecting to be that blown away."

You feel your cheeks flush, a mix of embarrassment and flattery. "Really? Well, I kinda feel the same. I’ve never... finished two times in one night."

Luke’s eyes narrow in surprise. "What?! Baby, that wasn’t even that much. I think we can go for four or five next time." He winks, his tone playful, but there's a hint of challenge in his voice.

You laugh, trying to hide the blush creeping up your neck. "Is that so? You really think you can keep up?"

Luke smirks, leaning in just a little closer, his voice low and confident. "Oh, I’m definitely up for the challenge. You just wait."

You raise an eyebrow, a teasing smile forming on your lips. "Maybe this whole 'young boyfriend' thing isn’t such a bad idea after all... Good stamina and all that."

Luke grins, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Told ya!" He leans in, planting a series of quick, soft kisses across your face and neck, each one sending a delightful shiver through your skin. You can't help but laugh at his actions, brushing your nose against his cheek as your giggles mix with his gentle kisses.

Just as you're starting to recover from his playful assault, a voice slices through the moment like an ice-cold splash of water.

"Can you drop the sex talk, guys?" Jack's voice rings out from the kitchen doorway, dripping with disgust but clearly amused by the whole situation. "I didn’t need to know this much about my little brother."

You freeze, eyes wide, before you turn to Luke, who looks utterly unfazed, that smug, victorious grin plastered across his face. It’s as if he’s just won some kind of prize, and he's wearing it like a badge of honor.

Embarrassment creeps up your neck, but before you can even process the awkwardness, you find yourself laughing. The tension dissolves in the shared amusement of the moment. Luke just shrugs casually, looking way too pleased with himself.

"Relax, Jack. It’s called maturity," you reply with a wink, and Luke chuckles, pressing another kiss to your cheek.

Jack groans dramatically, rolling his eyes. "You two are gross. And seriously, for the future, we need some rules. These walls are way too thin. I do not need to hear you two in action. Thank God I wasn’t home yesterday."

You let out a horrified gasp, hiding your face in Luke’s neck. "Jesus, Jack," you mumble, half laughing, half mortified.

Luke just keeps laughing, clearly entertained by the situation. "You heard nothing. Just a couple of adults figuring things out," he teases.

Jack mutters something under his breath before calling out with a playful, exaggerated gag. "God, I need to vomit. You two are so disgusting."

"Guess this means you're sticking around, huh?" Luke whispers against your mouth, his voice low and warm, sending another wave of heat through you.

You nod, content, leaning into him with a soft smile. "Guess so," you murmur, brushing your lips against his in return.

Jack, clearly fed up with the display, huffs dramatically and walks away with an exaggerated sigh. "You two are the worst."

As he exits, you look up at Luke, feeling that warmth in your chest—the comfort, the excitement, all mixed together. You can get used to mornings like this, even if it means dealing with Jack’s teasing. Or, you think with a smirk, maybe you’ll just strangle him in his sleep. Problem solved.

Luke catches the glint in your eye and chuckles, clearly knowing exactly what you’re thinking.

“Careful,” he says with a playful smirk, “I’d hate to lose my new favourite person just because you can’t handle my brother.”

You laugh, pulling him in for one last kiss.

Part 2

[seresinhangmanjake]

Do You Love?

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x wife!reader

Summary: Feyd is soft for his wife and only wants to know if she loves him. His wife just wants him to come home.

Notes/Warnings: fluff and a little angst and very light smut (still 18+), softy-soft Feyd, probably could do with a wedding prequel if people were interested, im sure there are typos. I think that's it.

Words: 1400

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist

He hates being away from you. Can't bear it. It takes less than two days for withdrawal from your lack of presence to settle in, and when it hits, it hits hard. The luminescence of your smile that threatens the darkness within him on his worst days; the delicate suppleness of your skin that introduced him to the softness and warmth of a human body; the specific quality and tone of your voice when you whisper and whimper and moan in his ear—he needs it. He needs you. He craves you until the second you’re in his arms again. He just wishes he could understand if you feel the same. He wishes he could know if you love him as much as he does you.

When you came into his life, you were a pawn for peace. A gift from one Great House to another. A reluctant bride who couldn’t choke back her tears on her wedding day. He’ll never forget the saltiness that lingered on his lips after the kiss that bound you to him forever. He can still feel the pang in his heart from seeing you finch when he guided the strap of your nightgown off your shoulder. 

It took ages for you to shed your fear; to allow him to hold you and kiss you and be inside of you, but those many months of ‘two steps forward, one step back’ have left him in a paralyzing state of identity crisis and uncertainty. You’ve turned him into a man who begs for scraps of reassurance that you care for him rather than a man who shows no mercy for love; a man so preoccupied with thoughts of his wife’s affection that not even his enemies are granted his full attention as he watches the light drain from their eyes. 

From the moment he leaves, he anticipates his return so you can quell his agitation, at least to some degree. The same words echo in his head each time he steps off a Harkonnen ship to search for you—hug me, hold me, kiss me, let my body inside of yours, tell me you love me—and in recent months you haven’t failed to do those things, with the exception of the last request. The day you tell him you love him will be the day he stops fearing you'll eventually grow bored with him. On that day, he’ll be happy, at peace. He’ll be unafraid of what his future with you will bring.

—

Reader POV

He often goes to Arrakis for a week or two, that’s not new. He must monitor things and fight Fremen when necessary. However, this time was different. There was something foreign in his eyes after he kissed your palm and boarded his ship to depart. Sadness? Pain? Worry? All three? You didn’t know, but it terrified you from how little he tried to disguise it. With each departure, it’s seemed his mood has worsened and you can't decipher its cause.

Now, ten days later, your fingernails are worn to nubs and dark circles have found home under your eyes from nightmares interrupting your sleep. They’re different every night but they always end with Feyd not coming home to you, and you don’t know how to cope. You tell yourself you’re crazy, that there’s no possibility of him being taken down with a Fremen knife or gobbled up by a sandworm or blown to bits from his ship getting shot out of the sky. He’s too smart, too quick, too trained for such things to claim his life. At the same time, however, the last person whose death you dreamt of was your mother’s, and while it’s rare your dreams are prophetic, that one came to fruition not five days later. Who is to say your dreams of your husband are not the same?

But you can’t lose Feyd, not when it feels like you just got him. When you married, your dread of navigating a new husband and life on Giedi Prime—both of which have a reputation for being cold and desolate and harsh—crippled your ability to see him for who he is. It’s only been the last few months that you’ve let yourself love and understand him, and you can’t imagine a reality in which you wake one morning knowing you will never have him again. You wouldn’t survive it. 

But you won't have to, because he's fine, perfectly safe—that's what you tell yourself. He told you he wouldn’t be away long and he wouldn’t say that unless he believed it, right?

Then again, believing he would be home soon doesn’t mean fate agrees. What if he's already gone? Wait, no. No, he wouldn't do that to you. He'll be home because he always makes it home. He’s fine. He’s safe. He would never leave you. You nod to yourself, swallowing hard. He’s fine. He’s safe. He would never leave. He’s fine. He’s safe. He would never leave.

--

Your body curls into the first touch of warmth you’ve had in a week and a half as a heavy weight rests in the dip of your waist and tugs you against a solid form. Plush lips ghost your temple. A heartbeat thrums in your ear and you feel the rise and fall of a chest. 

Oh, you like this dream. He’s so real in this dream. It’s the first dream where death is not at his heels.

“You don’t know how I miss you,” he mutters into your ear. Stands of your loose hair brush back from your face. “How unbearable it is.”

His voice is so clear, so beautiful and vivid that it’s almost like he’s really with you. Humming contently, you huddle further into him. “Then stop leaving me,” you mumble.

Breath catches in his chest, no longer moving at a steady rhythm. “You're awake?”

Your brows knit—that's not a very ‘dream-like’ question; it threatens your lovely illusion—and then your eyes snap open. 

“Feyd?” His nose is an inch from yours. Your hand raises to cup his cheek, just to see if he is real, and you gasp at how warm his skin is under your palm. “You're here,” you cry, quickly pushing him onto his back and crawling on top of him. 

You press your lips to his, hard. A whimper is pulled from your throat when he parts his mouth so you can get a taste of his tongue. Yes, he’s definitely real. 

Hands trail down your back to your ass, squeezing two handfuls of flesh and pushing your pelvis down onto his. He’s already hard and thick and pressing into you, the matching thin material of your nightgown and his sleep pants doing a pathetic job of maintaining any sort of barrier. 

Feyd slowly drags the ink-toned silk up the curves and dimples of your body until it pools at your waist. Fingers graze your skin as they move lower to slide through your slick bare folds, and at his touch, your brain goes absolutely fuzzy. You’re unashamedly desperate, refusing to take any longer to get what you need, but when you finally free him from his pants and he thrusts up into you, you both find yourselves stopping. The kiss breaks and you simply breathe in each other’s breaths as he stays nestled deep inside you. 

Your forehead falls to his. A fresh tear that you hadn’t noticed in your eye lands on his cheek. “You're ok,” you gently whimper, reassuring yourself of his safety. His nose nudges yours.

“When am I not?” he whispers as he catches the next tear with his thumb before it drops from your lower lashes. 

“In my nightmares.”

His brow pinches in curiosity, cock twitching within your walls. “You dream about me?” 

You lightly nod. “I thought this was a dream.”

“Why?”

“Because I had a sickening feeling you weren’t going to make it back this time. I know it was a routine trip, but I just couldn’t shake it,” you say. “And that would’ve killed me, Feyd. I love you.”

Feyd sucks in a short stream of air as his hips slightly buck up against yours. “You love me?” he repeats.

“Yes,” you exhale, riding the little high of pleasure that came from the sharp involuntary shift of his hips. “I was so scared to be right.”

Feyd's arms tighten around you and he tilts his chin up to connect your lips. Kisses travel along the line of your jaw and down the length of your neck. His tongue dips into the hollow of your throat. 

“I love you,” he tells you.

Your stuffy chuckle settles into a grin. “I know you do.”

---

tag: @avidreader73

[suzukiblu]

Thank-you sentences for BernadetteHoule behind the cut; “mistaken identities and interdimensional refugees”. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“Then guess I’ll just have to teach ya whose town you’re in, you mouthy little fuck,” Croc says, then cracks his knuckles and bares his claws as he grins with a lot more teeth than Kon has, too-sharp or not. Though actually Kon’s the one who’s got the stronger bite force here, so that’s sort of funny. Like–as funny as anything can be right now, he means. 

He really wishes anything could be funny right now. 

Like–real, real bad, does he wish that.

Croc doesn’t wait any longer than that to rush him, all massive muscle and leathery skin and claws and teeth, a fist cocked to strike, and Kon–

Well, Kon doesn’t wait either. 

He snaps a hand up just fast enough to catch the punch Croc is trying to knock his head off with one-handed, and stops it one-handed. Holds Croc’s fist stuck in his grip with super-strength and absorbs every inch of the impact with his TTK and stops the full force of Croc’s blow dead, without his arm tensing any more than if he were catching an underhand toss of somebody’s keys or whatever. 

Croc stares down at him in disbelief, his slit-pupiled eyes blown wide, and a few of his guys yell in shock. Kon grins too sharp for human and gives Croc’s fist the slightest little squeeze; the slightest little bit of meaningful pressure, just to get his point across. 

“Yeah, about that whole ‘whose town I’m in’ thing,” he says casually. “You ever heard of an invasive species, man?” 

Then he tosses the prick down the street ass-over-teakettle, and again doesn’t make it look any harder than tossing somebody their keys himself. 

It’s not, after all. Gotham’s not the kind of city that a Super can operate in long-term, but it’s also not the kind of city that’s ever prepared for a Super either. 

“Sorry, who was next?” he asks Croc’s guys as Croc himself is out cold in the furrow of torn-up pavement that his body just high-velocity skidded into the street. Every single one of them goes dead-white, then turns on their heels and runs for it back down into the sewer. Again, Gotham is very much not a Super’s kind of city, but Gotham is also not a city of people stupid enough to fuck with the guy who just tossed the giant crocodile dude’s salad one-handed, especially if they’re probably not even getting paid for it due to said giant crocodile dude being down for the count and all. Gothamites have actual survival instincts. Their lizard brains are actually paying attention and running actual threat assessments. 

Which, usually pretty convenient for him, Kon’s gonna be honest. 

Clark’s real good at not looking dangerous, even in the middle of a fight. Not feeling dangerous. He can turn it off like that, mind, but it’s just not how he normally moves through the world; not just how he goes out and about and shit. 

Kon has not mastered that particular skill, personally, but even if he had, he would not currently be using it. Not in any reality’s Gotham, interdimensional crisis fucking up date night or not. 

Man, he’d really been looking forward to date night too, even if it had meant dealing with a gala crowd full of old money who all thought Tim was new money and that he was, like, redneck trailer trash or whatever. Sue him, he likes getting dressed up and eating fancy food and scoring a sixty-forty shot at getting fucked in a glitzy-ass bathroom. And he really likes getting to hang out with Tim for more than five goddamn minutes before Tim has to run off for Wayne Enterprises duty or Bat duty or what the fuck ever, so like, it only goddamn figures this shit happened on date night. 

Maybe they can make it up to each other after this shit gets fixed, Kon thinks, halfheartedly hopeful about them fitting a makeup date into Tim’s stupid-insane schedule without Tim having to threaten either the board or Batman about it. 

( he really, really needs to tell himself that they’re gonna get the chance to make it up to each other. )

[qpr-purgatory]

You Are My Squishies Pt. 1

A Two Shot Based on one of my Imagines:

((part two here))

You don't know what to make of him at first and the feeling was mutual but when you get comfortable enough to be in each other's presence he pop's the question: 'Why haven't you confessed to Wade yet?' After your initial shock you take the time to explain your identity and feelings and he just listens: no arguments, no opinions, just an open ear, as you talked about this vulnerable part of yourself. After you're done, there was a beat of silence before he whispered a respectful "Okay". It was then you felt a shift in your feelings. You still had a squash on Wade, yes, but the focus had changed... ...to Logan. After you had a small crisis about being polyaffectionate, you begin noticing things about him: his jawline, his muscles, his eyes, his reflex of pushing people away, how much he drank... Your nurturing nature kicked in. You'd make him cups of coffee in the morning, give him some extra bacon with his breakfast, put a blanket on him when he passed out on the couch. You even hid his alcohol from him (that was the only thing that ticked him off, but you knew he'd never hurt you on purpose, just glare heatedly and grouch more than usual). The treatment was foreign to Logan; years of self loathing and hatred convinced him that he was a worthless, murderous piece of shit that didn't deserve basic human decency let alone kindness. Admittedly, major progress was made on that front with his adventure with Wade but you were just so...bright and genuine. He found himself thinking about what you had told him, about aromanticism, about how you viewed relationships, about qprs. Most of his life, the only labels he had just been romance, friendship, and sex, but when he recalled the majority of friendships and even lovers, he found he related to what you had described. The type of relationship he wanted to have with you. Stiffening, he shook his head. Did he really just think that? Did he have a... what the fuck was it?... a squash on you? The twinge of revelation sent him into a panic (he couldn't lose you, not like them) and he found himself nursing a bottle of whiskey, quaking silently in the dark, eyes blown wide, ears ringing, and memories flashing by. He didn't know how long he was like this or when you got there but he remembers when you stood in front of him, movements slow and careful as not to startle, voice slightly muffled by the ringing. Gently, you remove the bottle from his grasp, before rubbing circles into the back of his hand and when he's finally able to hear you, you're soothing him. You ask if you can hug him and he nods, the feeling of every nerve scraped raw and slight drunken stupor overpowering the reflex to isolate himself. And so you do. It steals his breath away. Your scent, the warmth of your body seeping into him, the pressure of your hug ...sooths him in a way he can only describe as visceral. He didn't even know of his tears before you dabbed away at them, mouth still lulling him from his episode. Taking a shuddering breath, he looked down at you, your eyes so full of concern and care he nearly breaks down again. You both stay in each other's arms like that for a while before you pull him to his feet, wiping away at the last of his tears. "Do you want to talk about it?" You asked, voice barely above a whisper.

He paused, weighing his options. He could do the typical Logan thing and push you away, isolate... Or he could risk becoming attached and let you in.

Feeling something on his cheek, he looked down to see you cupping the side of his face, gaze so full of empathy and patience that the decision practically made itself.

He told you everything, his trauma, his regrets, how he lost his family, his rampage, all of it. You listened on, nodding when you needed to, squeezing his hand comfortingly when he got particularly emotional, and when he was done you wrapped him into an embrace and whispered "I'm so happy you're here."

From then on your dynamic changed rapidly: sure he was still a gruff grump, but you both initiated more casual contact, you joked and smiled with him more, and he drank less.

It was impossible for anyone not to notice...and oh boy did a certain merc with a mouth notice.

(( ...continued in part two ))

[naomijoestar]

Hi I, I thought of a funny scenario in which Giorno is having an identity crisis about having two biological fathers but Reader is exchanging glances with Mista and Narancia because it's not adding up? How does that work? But the three of them feel like idiots, maybe one of them starts to laugh nervously (hysterics) which prompts the rest of the Bucci Gang to intervene? (It unfolds in more chaos). Sorry if this is so random but sksksks it just popped up in my mind 😭👍 I guess this is more of a platonic scenario but I'll leave that up to you, thank you and sorry for the messy request

Masterlist here <3

This is so silly and I loved writing it, I hope you enjoy!

Giorno’s crisis and funny chaos

It all starts with Giorno thoughtfully pacing the room. “It’s just…sometimes I wonder who I am. I mean, biologically speaking, I have two fathers. DIO, who is technically Jonathan Joestar, and…well, biologically that doesn’t make sense.”

You glance at Mista, who’s frowning and squinting like he’s trying to do algebra in his head. Narancia leans toward you, whispering, “Does Giorno mean, like…two guys? How does that work? Like, scientifically?”

Mista, clearly overthinking it, mutters under his breath, “Maybe it’s like…a frog thing. You know, like how some frogs can—”

You interrupt, “Mista, that’s not how human biology works.”

Narancia squints at Giorno, then looks at you and Mista. “Wait, are we saying Giorno is a frog now?”

The three of you exchange increasingly baffled glances while Giorno’s lamentations about identity continue in the background. Then, out of nowhere, Mista lets out a nervous chuckle

You side eye him, confused. But then Narancia starts giggling too, more out of secondhand awkwardness than anything else. Your lips twitch—you’re trying so hard to keep it together, but the absurdity of the situation is getting to you

The giggles snowball into full-blown hysterics. Mista is doubled over, tears streaming down his face as he wheezes, “Two dads…how?!” Narancia is laughing so hard he’s gasping for air, slapping the nearest table for support

Giorno pauses mid-monologue, turning to the three of you with a mix of confusion and mild offense. “I don’t see what’s so funny about my existential dilemma.”

Before you can explain (not that you’d know how), Bruno steps in, visibly concerned. “What’s going on here?”

“Giorno has two dads!” Narancia blurts out between laughs, gesturing wildly toward Giorno

“We know,” Fugo says, pinching the bridge of his nose like he’s already done with this conversation

“Do we, though?!” Mista exclaims, throwing his hands up. “Do we really understand it?!”

At this point, Abbacchio chimes in with a groan, “If I have to listen to another word about Giorno’s parentage, I’m going to walk into the ocean.”

Trish, sipping her drink, raises an eyebrow. “Honestly, I always assumed it was just…Joestar weirdness. Why are we dissecting this now?”

Giorno, still frustrated, tries to bring the conversation back to his identity crisis, but his voice is drowned out by Mista and Narancia arguing over whether frogs or seahorses are a better analogy for Giorno’s situation

And you? You’re stuck in the middle, trying (and failing) to mediate while also laughing uncontrollably because, really, how did it come to this?

If you’d like anything changed or added, you can always message me and I’ll fix it!

If you enjoyed this make sure to check out my other posts, and if you’d like anything specific written for a jjba character/squad you can request it if my requests are open!

[zimt-deathnote]

What is the relationship of the Wammy kids with animals/pets? Do they like them?, Did they ever have one?, Do the 30s versions of Mellodramattic/Near have one? o3o

...Do you have a pet?...

I feel like I get a lot of pet asks lately and I'll try to answer them all at once haha! I don't think any of them has any special relationship to pets in general and I don't think any of them would ever get one.

@imninakk gave Near a service dog and I wholeheartedly support this headcanon 🤍 I mean check this out if you haven't, it's so good -> Poe

And the closest M2 ever get to a pet is (at least for the 2.1 fellas) Chris and Holly's golden retriever Bertram!

To give you just a little bit of context:

Chris was put in a witness protection programme by L after he died. He had to change his entire identity, new name, new job, new social circle, new country, etc etc. I headcanon he was living in Ghana for the past 5 years. He met Holly there, they married. Chris thinks Matt is dead and is losing his mind /pos over a phone call from Matt shortly before the end of canon Death Note, saying he wants to come see him. Skip forward a few months, Matt and Chris have a super emotional reunion, with Matt and Mello staying over at Chris and Hollys place for a few days. Matt and Chris are having a fantastic time while Mello is having a full blown life crisis in the background. Him and Matt didn't talk about what they were gonna do after the Kira-thing ends and he feels completely out of place. Not knowing if Matt wants to stay with him, not knowing what job he's gonna be able to work, feeling like the biggest hypocrite playing happy family when he was one of Los Angeles' biggest mafia bosses just a few months ago, having devastating PTSD from the explosion, ... The man is an internal mess but needs to keep it together for Matt.

----- My other socials Commission Info Let's drink some Ko-Fi! 🍵

[chirp-a-chirp]

Oh, my high school self would scoff at me for asking but...

Tell me more about those Leon and Clavis character analyses 👀❤️💜

Oh the irony of WANTING to do full blown character analyzes as an adult but not having the time to do so. High school me would scoff as well. Massively.

Leon and Clavis are my favorite ikemen prince characters. They both have an outward persona/mask that is so strong that it’s easy to assume that’s all there is to them—Leon as the charismatic hero, Clavis the hedonistic trickster.

On the surface, Leon and Clavis are bold, confident, vibrant men, living recklessly and in the moment. But probe deeper and you see highly introspective men who are trapped in their heads—Leon with guilt for deceiving everyone, suffering a perpetual identity crisis forced upon him by others, Clavis burdened with insecurities and doubt, forever compared to Chevalier but not wanting to admit how it affects him.

Hope and love—these princes want and crave it but cannot bring themselves to admit it.

Leon never had hope/love as a slave, felt unworthy of them when living as the fourth prince because he was deceiving his brothers. In his interactions with others, Leon projects the love and hope he never had as a young child before he came to the palace. He sees himself as a vessel, a sacrifice for a cause, a tool for the real fourth prince. You can almost hear his heart breaking in his route when for the first time in his life he realizes he WANTS something for himself—to be with Emma and soak in her warmth, the same warmth he gives to others, only to realize clause 99 is in the way.

Clavis had among the most positive relationships with his mother. A firm foundation of love, hope, and joy. And then it’s ripped away from him. And he doesn’t think he can bear losing such a key person like that again. So he tests people; pushes their buttons; is purposely obnoxious and chaotic. He won’t let another person into his life that will crumble and break like his mother, so he breaks others instead even as he’s internally crying out for someone to truly love and fix him.

In short—these two bold outgoing princes hide a lot of pain, and they internalize so much of the negative feelings they actually have. I really wanna give these 2d boys a hug. 🫂

[princess-of-the-corner]

Disney comics tend to have negative continuity (I kid you not, when Don Rosa got Grandma Duck as the mother-in-law of Scrooge's sister and Donald's actual grandmother as per Barks' family tree it made HEADLINES in Italy, as local authors had her as Scrooge's sister and Donald's aunt for decades)... But there's three very interesting things authors around the world all agree about Donald Duck:

Donald is a crossdresser. Not in a creepy or weird way, he just likes pretty dresses and has absolutely no problem wearing one if it's the practical solution to a problem (he once borrowed Daisy's clothes and pretended to be her twin sister because the lady had too many obligations). If one takes the Paperinik stories into account it fits with his habit of disguising himself (it's also how Paperinik maintains his secret identity, after the many times Donald Duck "revealed" himself as Paperinik disguised as Donald they all assume Paperinik just wears a Donald mask under the domino mask), but the lack of issues in dressing as a woman and even pretending to be one is a nice touch.

Donald likes strong-willed and powerful women, as shown by all the love interests I know of: Daisy has a side job as a spy for Scrooge (and Donald KNOWS), has a powerful temper, and is one of four known people capable of matching Scrooge's insane work hours (the other three being his first secretary Emily Quackfaster, said secretary's niece and successor with the same name, and his butler Quackmore); Reginella is the queen of the planet Pacificus, chosen by her people for her charisma and skills as a ruler, and when it comes to defend her people summoning a furious Donald is HOLDING BACK (the moment she realized Donald couldn't solve the current emergency and used her full power was one of the scariest things ever put on a comic book, especially for how JARRING it was to have this kind woman do what she did); Xadhoom (from Paperinik New Adventures) was elected president of her homeworld of scientists at a rather young age because she was the smartest of them all, she missed the Evronian invasion allowed by the fact her intelligence didn't mean wisdom because she was off-planet with an experiment intended to solve her world's impending energy crisis, and when said experiment gave her godlike powers and she discovered what happened to her people she assumed the name of Xadhoom (meaning creditor, as the invaders owed her a debt of an entire sapient species) and started hunting down the Evronians with the explicit intention of committing a genocide, also stopping by to help those in need (how she met Donald, she knew some of her people would have tried to forewarn Earth of the Evronian threat, found the Evronians were already preparing an invasion but were wary of Earth's nuclear arsenal, and started culling the invasion force once in a while to prevent a full scale invasion while looking for their base); Lyla Lay (also from PKNA) is the droid assigned by the Time Police to surveil our time, and is one terrifying lady; Juniper Ducklair (from PKNA's sequel) was eventually elected queen of her homeworld of Corona (yes, Donald has three love interests that have been DEMOCRATICALLY ELECTED rulers of entire planets) thanks to her sheer psychic might and the discipline she had to not brainwash anyone less powerful just by talking to them); and Kay K (from DoubleDuck) is one of the world's best spies, also skilled enough in martial arts she actually defeated Lyla in single combat (by throwing her off a roof, but she still managed to grab and throw her).

Donald is an amazing parental substitute to his three nephews. The original reason he even got to raise them was that the hellions had blown up their father and Della sent them to his house while the poor man recovered, and he, slowly but surely, turned them into good kids (though he had to fight quite the battles at time). Two alien tyrants once brainwashed them into their would-be successors, and Donald set up a revolution with the help of an Earth scientists who had been captured before him, physically destroyed the tyrants, and spanked the brainwashing away (it was a story from the 1970s). While hunting for a treasure with Jose Carioca and Panchito he was asked what he planned to do with his share, and he casually said he'd put it in their college fund (this casual admission is one of the reasons his two friends hold him in awe). And when the time-traveling bandit The Raider discovered his identity he was amazed at the kind of life and education he gave his nephews while also finding the time to fight crime and save the world and without doing anything unlawful or immoral to get the necessary money, something The Raider is uniquely qualified to judge due being a single father of one himself and his entire reason for still being a criminal being that it pays well enough to grant his son everything he needs to make himself a better life.

Curious that THIS, alongside his temper, is what everyone agrees on Donald's character...

Honestly a great character!

[mifink]

you know what? i'm not a big fan of shipping characters and last time i did that was a few years ago. i just... follow the canon. but! give me a hanriel fanfic, but with an alternative ending.

jekyll somehow survives his suicide attemp but is stuck in hydes body forever and can't do anything about this. let karma put her hands on henry's throat. let her drown him in the bathtub. put him in a situation he cannot escape anymore. he lost his life as henry jekyll but can't start a new life (the one he once planned to have) as edward hyde either. he's no longer a respectable, extremaly likeable scientist with a shitton of money, beautiful house, an impaccable reputation. he lost everything he spent his whole life on! everything that mattered to him so much! everyone hates hyde with a burning passion and now hes even a wanted criminal, a murderer. henry doesnt have any place to go anymore. he cant do anything. he cant run away from consequences of his actions anymore. he is stuck. i want to see henry with a full blown identity crisis, because even tho hes stuck in hydes body, body of someone or rather something he hates, but he doesnt feel neither like edward nor as henry. he's now a secret third thing or nothing, noone. an empty shell of these two.

now time for utterson. how would he feel when he sees hyde for the first time after reading the letters? would he be disgusted? angry? furious? would he feel some pity? how would he react? i want this man to loose his temper for once. his dearest friend lied to him, betreyed even! and now? is he even somewhere inside this awful creature? he'd like to kill hyde with his bare hands but he wouldnt want to hurt jekyll. he doesnt know what to do. he would spend hours trying to put his mind together, unsuccessfully. he still feels like he has something to do, he just doesnt know what.

i want to see them trying to build a new relationship, a very complicated relationship. they only have themselves now.

[gojorgeous]

Just read that Alpha Gojo fic and I think at some point, maybe after the heat is over, readers gonna have to be like “I Am American And This Might Be A Problem” like do mates get automatic citizenship in Omegaverse? Is there a precedent for having to uproot your entire life because you got caught off guard and bonded to a guy in a different country? Moneys not an issue bc Gojo is rich as hell but a looong conversion awaits them.

i am, once again, about to discuss omegaverse lore on my blog. i'm gonna put a cut cause i think it's gonna be long and people don't need unwanted omegaverse on their feed LMAO:

yesssssss, i think reader goes through a lot directly after the end of the fic. I think she's going to have a lot of moments of crisis and it will really put both her and gojo to the test. I think they would both realize fairly quickly that she has to move to japan and, seeing as they're freshly bonded, i don't think gojo would even let her go back to america to arrange her moving. he'd just hire a bunch of people to pack up her apartment OR he would insist on going to america with her because it would be physically and emotionally dangerous for them to be parted for that long. i think that would end up being one of their first arguments.

i also unironically think omegaverse is really cool for the political/social contexts that it brings about (LMAO WHAT AM I ON ABOUT) cause it creates like an entirely separate category for people to be shuffled into and creates new societal problems. I would think that citizenship for reader wouldn't be too hard to get, even if it wasn't already guaranteed. Gojo would just hire a team of outrageously expensive lawyers to get it done asap lol.

i also think that gojo and reader's relationship is a bit tense and rocky for a while. they dance along this weird line of not being able to live without each other, but also understanding that they really don't know each other at all. granted, i think reader is the one with the biggest hangups. gojo is down to just love her off the bat lol.

i do feel really bad for reader because i think she'd have a full blown identity crisis. she goes from fully believing she's a beta to suddenly finding out she's an omega AND she bonds some guy she doesn't know AND he's satoru fucking gojo LMAO. i think anyone would feel overwhelmed. i think she really struggles with knowing if her feelings for him are real or if they're just caused by their dynamic. i think it takes lots of patience and gentleness from gojo to convince her that it's real and not just a biological thing.

in the end, i see it all working out for them, though :) happily ever after LMAOOOO

i hope you enjoyed my analysis bestie, thank you for the ask ily!!!

[doctorstrangereview]

0123: Defenders #15

Cover Date: September 1974 On-Sale Date: June 18, 1974

Woo Hoo! Nighthawk gets a nifty new outfit this issue, after his last one got blown off his body by an exploding melty laser. Fortunately, the beak is a huge improvement and the colors are much easier on the eyes. Our rag-tag non-team gets to fight Magneto and his merry band of evil mutants. Doc and Magneto are even duking it out on the cover!

Doc is giving new member Nighthawk a tour of the Sanctum Sanctorum. After dropping a few jokes that Doc doesn't get and hints about his snazzy new duds, Valkyrie picks up the cue and compliments him.

Val's identity crisis resumes and she is determined to leave the Defenders and find out who Barbara Norris, the body she's wearing, was. This is actually remarkable for this era. Barbara would most likely have been ignored. She was insane and just an extra body lying around for Valkyrie to posses. Life goes on.

Nighthawk wants to help. He can't figure out who Val is, but he can help her with the rather conspicuous winged horse. He calls a lackey and orders them to buy a riding academy with lots of privacy.

Val thanks him and they turn around to see Doc speaking to the empty air. Doc realizes he's the only who can see their mysterious guest so he uses his All-Purpose Amulet to shine some light on the situation. Oh look! It's Charles Xavier, founder of the X-Men!

Charley's usual lackeys are tied up so he needs the Defenders to sub in for him. Doc, of course, accepts on behalf of everyone present and then needs to recruit some muscle. In the form of the Hulk, naturally. The Hulk is confused by Doc's floating astral head, but obliges Doc by following him to the others. Fortunately all the present members can fly and manage to fly to New Mexico and not a very long time.

The gang meets with up with Charley just as the Hulk arrives. At this point, the readers don't know what this mission is and we're not sure if Charley has informed Doc off panel. As they prepare to enter the cavern in front of them, an giant orange cyclops (no the X-Man variety) emerges. Hulk requests he go away in typical Hulk manner.

The Defenders attack the beast. The beast wipes the floor with them, until Charley asks them to stop and reveals the monster is an illusion. Fancy that!

Charley is really looking like his physical inspiration, Yul Brynner, in that middle panel! The next attack is real and flattens the group as Magneto and his evil bunch come out of the shadows.

Magneto imprisons our heroes in a magnetic field. It's a little on the nose, but what else can you expect from the master of magnetism. Doc asks what's going on and why he's doing this. Magneto blathers something about a sleeper inside a giant bell jar behind him and then leads into a multi-page recap of an Avengers tale not long before the Avengers/Defenders war.

To make a long story somewhat shorter, in his encounter with the Avengers, Magneto was clobbered by the Vision and then Thor trapped him in a force bubble which was sent to the center of the Earth. Comet Kohoutek's passing made some tiny change to the force bubble allowing Magneto to break free and find his way back to the a cavern. Naturally, this cavern contains the remnants of some loss civilization, because we don't have a story if it didn't. It even has a library with books that are bound just like modern publishers do. He's even managed to decipher the ancient language with absolutely no frame of reference. Well, Mags is a genius after all!

He reunites his brotherhood of naughty mutants and then reveals what he's up to: making a home grown mutant.

Charley communicates with his substitute heroes telepathically and next we get a full page panel of them escaping. Yay!

Magneto calls his band of naughties together to protect him and we get a large panel of the stand-off.

The Defenders don't fare wall initially, but the tide starts to turn when Hulk realizes that Blob is rooted to the ground, so he removes the ground. Doc then counters Masterminds illusions with his own illusions and we get an old classic, lots of Docs!

Charley manages to set off Nighthawk's jet pack who then crashes into Lorelei taking her out. Unus grabs Val who realizes that he has lowered his forcefield and Unus becomes touchable. She tosses him to the Hulk who is happy to have something else to punch. It may all be in vain as Mags has turned on his homegrown mutant.

The premise was more promising that what was delivered. Perhaps part two will be better. The promise of the cover didn't deliver. It showcases Doc and Mags facing off, but we don't get that. I am intrigued by these two battling. They are incredibly powerful, but can magnetism and magic counter each other? How would one defeat the other. At least Len realizes the Hulk is smarter than most people give him credit. He may not perform brain surgery or solve the unified field theory, but he is capable of deducting and reasoning.

The story is a level above ho-hum. It's entertaining, but not great. I'm hoping for more from the conclusion.

[dorkydegeneracy]

At this point in time, my theory is the 8x06 marks Buck's confession to Maddie, but more importantly HIMSELF, that he and Tommy aren't going to work because he is in love with Eddie.

Eddie is going to have his crisis about his identity as a father, and who he is outside of being a dad, but I don't think we are going to get a full blown gay realization. Because that story should have more time to develop, and we need Buck to actually have something to overcome to be with Eddie.

Oliver craves that longing and fighting for the person that you want to be with, and boy do I think Tim is going to let him HAVE IT!!!!

[foursaints]

no you’re right, evan’s like a water sommelier, explaining the difference between Evian from the French Alps and your average poland spring. he brings out a bottle of Svalbarði like Would you like to try some? and bartys like oh hell yeah vodka? no to his dismay it’s just £80 water

this is one of my favorite anons but with love. this has regulus written all over it. evan is the guy who would ideally have 100% of his meals would be lukewarm water & a tasteless nutrient gel which he would ingest with a blank expression on his face at timed intervals. when he sees barty hunched over the sink at 2am drinking from the tap like a dog his reaction is just “you’re so efficient babe ❤️”

regulus is the water sommelier. he’s an Everything sommelier. the skittles tried to prank him by funneling boxed wine into an expensive bottle once except regulus believed it and had like a full-blown identity crisis about it that involved no longer styling his hair and laying supine on his $16000 gerrit rietveld 1950’s spruce wood sleeping sofa in a hoodie (GOD forbid) just like “so does……. anything…. even matter? does anyone love me?”

[billcyphersballsack]

Spoilers for the funny timeloop game

A big factor I think is fun to consider in the “a different party member is looping” AUs is why the characters keep it to themselves, and also how they’d behave at their tipping point, and most of all how they’d s specifically dehumanize the rest of the party by the end like how Siff starts calling them actors on a stage. If I may throw my two silver coins in the pool

Mirabell would experience major chosen one guilt. She’d see the loops as an opportunity to make the head house maiden (I’m gonna say HHM from here on out for her btw) proud for choosing her and also the rest of Dormont. She’d do everything to keep everyone safe of course, really starting the downward spiral after her first failure to defeat the king. But after meeting with HHM and having the loop corrupt I think she’d experience major religious guilt. She failed her house and she already thinks she’s following the change belief wrong because of her aroace status so I think she’d start assuming this was all a punishment for her sins that needed correcting. Her party members becoming nothing more then her entourage as she is the vessel of change, and at their worst they’re obstacles to her redemption. She doesn’t even wait for them to start talking shit about her at the clock tower before she decides to go it alone I think

A lot of Odile loops aus or maybe just the one I’ve seen have her as a diligent note taker. Real. I think she’d be unwilling to tell the party because I think she’s smart enough to figure out why the loops are happening immediately. But she refuses to believe that dumb wish she made on the tree she doesn’t believe in could actually do anything so she pushes that fear to the back of her mind and forgets about it till the end. She follows exact scripts and does everything perfectly for the first few loops but I think given the fact she’s the only one who attacks you in the finale fight she has it in her to start distancing herself form the party super quick. Even before meeting HHM she starts seeing the group as lab rats minus Bonnie to test out possible scenarios both to their benefit or to their detriment but after the meeting they become nothing more then Serial numbers, Bonnie included, and she couldn’t care less when it comes to their safety since she can just restart whenever she likes

Isa is tricky because he’s too sweet a guy I think but that’s what’s fun about it. I think he’d have a full blown identity crisis, I think lying to his friends and keeping secrets more intense then a little crush would eat at him, I think the fact his friends can’t remember all the things they’ve shared in the loops would make him feel hopeless over time, I think the fact they can’t remember when he was cold to them in later loops would get on his nerves. He’s a bundle of emotions and keeps the loops from the others just because he’s worried about them seeing him differently now that he has this ability, and after he meets the HHM he’s erratic and all over the place mentally. I’m taking a que from his backstory using body craft and saying his friends become shapeless formless husks over time that he can’t see as anything but failed clay sculptures. For an extra bit of sadness he finally confesses to siff in one of the loops before the last one and it’s big and perfectly choreographed but Sif gets overwhelmed and is himself worried how isa would feel if he knew more about Sif so they turn him down. And from then on he goes through the 5 stages of grief treating Sif worse and worse each loop because all of their good chemistry and funny banter is soured by the fact it will never happen. When the final fight ends he confesses it more like he’s telling Sif he’s got weeks to live, quiet and subdued and apologetic, and Sif accepts this time because it was genuine and they know a lot more about each other now

Bonnie tells Odile. Every time without fail. Sometimes they let Mira and Isa in on it, sometimes they insist it stay between them, sometimes they don’t tell the whole truth and pass it off as a prophetic dream or a hunch or something. But they always tell her. And they never tell Sif. Bonnie would obviously start getting stronger because of the loops and would eventually show off to Sif that they didn’t need his protection anymore, and that’s when the two can have their heart to heart and they’d trust him more. But after that loop fails Bonnie would become more and more agitated, aggressive, they’d snap at the others and become increasingly annoyed they treat them like a baby when they’re more powerful then all of them. It’s after the HHM that they stop telling Odile, they stop getting excited about snacks they stop chiming in with jokes and everyone assumes, naturally, that the kid is obviously stressed and they leave it be. On the last loop they absolutely lose it on the others and that’s when they all agree to leave them at the clocktower because this is too much for them. I wanna say the party becomes something like dolls to Bonnie, and that they feel as though they’re too old for dolls now

That’s it that’s the post

[mirrorofliterature]

I have another coco canon divergence idea that I've been mulling on recently

it's victoria being pulled into a mystery, but this time whilst she's alive.

so essentially the plot is:

- Victoria wants to upskill her designing skills for shoemaking as her abuela is now in her mid-60s and should be retiring, but won't. Also, fashion has evolved since the 1920s.

- So she (in her early-mid 20s) decides to upskill by going to a technical school in Mexico City for shoemaking/design, that kind of thing. I want to research this to make it accurate, if I was to go full blown on this.

- Anyway. It's a year course and her family by now has the money necessary to send her (again, need to check the realities of this kind of technical training in 1960s Mexico) and she has an apartment in Mexico City.

- This technical school happens to also offer music courses.

- She shares her apartment with fellow students, one who happens to be a music student

- Unlike Elena, who absolutely virulently loathes music, Victoria has always struck me as someone who is, at best, apathetic towards music, so she's fine with musicians, she just doesn't listen to music out of respect to her abuela and mama.

- So she's fine with the music student

- Also there's a lesbian subplot because yes. With who? Idk.

- ANYWAY so this music student has this side hobby via Ernesto de la Cruz and is trying to get information on his early career and is trying to figure out who his early touring partner was.

- Which is her new roommate's dead abuelo, but they both have no idea.

- Anyway, Victoria is like: 'oh, my name is Victoria Rivera [Julio's last name] and I'm from Santa Cecilia'

- the MS (music student): 'oh cool anyone in your family know ernesto de la cruz?'

- victoria: 'no my abuela hates music and ernesto.'

- MS: 'hm. anyway did you say your maternal last name was rivera because crazy thing, there's this obscure travelling partner ernesto had known only as 'h rivera'. heard of him'?

- victoria, curiosity piqued: 'sure I'll ask'

- Victoria asks her tios about this not her abuela or mama she's not cruel. Her tios reluctantly admit that yes, her abuela's husband did travel with and disappear on a tour with ernesto de la Cruz in 1921 and yes, they were childhood best friends

- music student, upon learning this: interesting

anyway it then divulges into this mystery where they puzzle out that héctor was the real musician (writer) this whole time and that he kind of died in late 1921 and isn't it like. highly suspicious that ernesto went on to use héctor's songs as his own + without telling his family that he was, y'know, dead???

victoria has an identity crisis and kisses a pretty lady.

Imelda and coco are eventually told and coco is like. fuck me that's tragic but it makes a shitload more sense then héctor just ditching us and an embittered imelda is like. yeah. wish ernesto was still around so I could murder him but I'll settle for suing his estate for plagiarism :).

when imelda dies, she's already had héctor's picture up for a few years (because #regret and #love of my life) but doesn't expect anything from it because y'know héctor has been dead decades and probably moved on by now and it's all her fault for assuming the worst.

and it's not like sunshine and rainbows when héctor and imelda reunite but it's a whole lot better than canon and héctor is like: it was very strange 1) having people recognise that I wrote ernesto's songs and 2) learning that he murdered me thanks to the granddaughter I didn't know I had??? also I love you but like. very hurt that you thought the worst of me for so long.

and imelda is like: that's fair and they heal and shit.

and maybe thanks to imelda's lawsuit money, victoria gets proper treatment for her cancer and lives a long gay life.

okay. that was a lot more words than expected. sleeping now.