#him saying he wishes the cake scene was left in and thinks it would have given some lightheartedness. YES RONEN YEAHH
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lonestardust · 2 years ago
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all of these convention updates on twitter jsksks good morning to me
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therapyplacebo · 13 days ago
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𝙸𝚝'𝚜 𝚂𝚘 𝚂𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝, 𝙺𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝙼𝚎
https://archiveofourown.org/works/62475340
CROSSPOSTED ON AO3
Pairing: Zayne x f reader SMUT
Word count: 6,485
Content warning : Smut, shower sex (fingering), unprotected sex, it's your bday but Zayne missed it, apologetic Zayne, slightest bit of angst in the form of self-hatred and doubt
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Zayne lets out a defeated sigh as he shoves his hand in the depth of the left pocket of his jacket to retrieve his keys. His shoulders are sunken with exhaustion, and the stabbing pain in his lower back radiates up to the nape of his neck the way it does after an excruciatingly long surgery.
Guilt gnaws at his mind—redundant thoughts swirling in a dangerous pattern he recognizes too well but is too tired to put an end to. The keys in his hand jangle as he pulls them out, staring at the small seal keychain you won for him at the claw machine. It matches the larger plushie he won for you that you keep on a shelf in your office. 
He already knows he missed the party, but somehow, the dimmed lights and empty apartment shatter something inside of him as he shrugs off his coat. There are balloons hanging down from your kitchen cabinets, confetti littering the floor and sticking to his socks. 
As he makes his way to the kitchen, Zayne has to duck under a beautiful handmade banner hanging from the ceiling with your age written on it along with birthday wishes scribbled on it. Wrapping papers stick out of your trash can—hastily shoved inside. There are several glasses of wine lined near your sink where the dirty dishes are neatly piled.
Zayne makes a mental note to put them in the dishwasher tomorrow morning. 
Silence hangs in the air, echoes of another birthday missed haunting him like an earworm he’s forgotten the lyrics of. Just as he’s about to turn on the living room light, he spots you, hunched over the kitchen table, cheek resting on your arms with a ridiculously small cardboard hat on your head. If the sight of it hadn’t instantly made him nauseous with resentment for no one but himself, he would have laughed. 
He drops the gift bag to the ground, walking around the misplaced chairs as he makes his way to you. The floor creaks, and you stir awake, meeting his eyes with a confused expression that melts away into the softer one of relief. With a tired smile, you stretch your arms above your head, letting out a groan. 
“Hey, when did you get here?” You ask him with a yawn, squinting at the lack of light as you take in the sight of him—wearing his best dress shirt and some formal black trousers. “Did you change at work?” Your eyebrow raises itself as you fail to suppress your grin. 
Zayne scoffs at your seemingly unbothered attitude, taking a seat right next to you. “I did. I packed it this morning thinking I would make it in time to…” He trails off, not knowing what to say as he cradles the side of your face and rubs your cheekbone with the pad of his thumb. You nuzzle his wrist, pressing a soft kiss to the exposed skin there. “I’m sorry,” Zayne dejects, his eyes searching yours in hopes they convey the depth of his regret and how much he wishes he could rewind time. 
You click your tongue softly, shaking your head obstinately. “Zayne. It’s fine. I understand work will always be work,” you chuckle in an almost bitter way, grabbing his hand that rests on his leg to squeeze it comfortingly. 
“I really was on my way here when I texted you. There was an emergency, and I had to scrub in,” Zayne insists, looking at the two slices of cake still untouched in their cardboard plates—the candles on one of them have been reduced to a melted mess.  
It reminds him with daunting resemblance of the lonely sight of his own birthdays. 
You lean on the table, resting your chin inside your hand as you glance at the mess around the room. “Tara got really drunk and decided to kiss Greyson, believe it or not,” you laugh, reminiscing about the scene. “I should’ve taken a picture. The face he made was worth a hundred bucks.” 
Zayne forces himself to chuckle with you, but it does not fool you. With a soft sigh, you grab his hand harder this time. “You know what? Technically, you didn’t miss my birthday at all,” you say, glancing at your watch with a knowing smile, trying your best to cheer the dejected man in front of you. “My birthday officially started four hours ago.” 
Zayne scoffs softly—a true chuckle this time. “Nice try.” You roll your eyes playfully, pushing towards him the slice of cake you reserved. You know he’s always famished whenever he comes out of surgery and the adrenaline wears off. 
Relief floods you when he begrudgingly accepts the bribe and picks at the almond-flavoured cake before shoving a forkful in his mouth. “You like it? I had it made with extra frosting for you.” 
The grin on your face warms his heart instantly, but the sugary taste sours in his mouth as your mask slips a little and he notices with surgical accuracy the sadness in your gaze. “It’s good. Is it from that bakery near the hospital?”
You nod enthusiastically, picking at his slice with your fork—your own cake ruined by colourful wax. Your lipstick is smudged on your cheek, but Zayne makes no mention of it. 
“Did you make a wish?” He finally asks, gesturing to the candles. You fold your index in front of your mouth, mumbling something with your mouth full as you swallow your bite. 
His furrowed eyebrows are enough for you to repeat yourself. “I didn’t. I was waiting for you.” Zayne stands up without another word, walking the short distance to your kitchen where he knows you keep the lighter—third drawer to the left. There’s an already lit candle from your previous birthday last year. The number is one year too little, but he grabs it regardless. 
“This is all I could find,” he states, sitting back on the edge of the chair, his knees touching yours. “I should’ve brought some.” 
You make a noise of disagreement, taking a quick bite of the frosting on the side before grabbing the lighter from his hands. “Nonsense. This is perfectly fine. It’s like I’m aging backwards; this is great,” you ramble as you light the candle with shaking fingers after placing it on top of your untouched slice.
An uncomfortable quietness falls, and the two of you sit, watching the mesmerizing way the flame dances in the darkness of the room. You glance at Zayne, admiring the warm highlights that the fire casts on his face and the seemingly serene expression he bears. 
Much to your surprise, Zayne starts to hum Happy Birthday under his breath. You laugh out loud, unbridled glee shining in your gaze, which makes him blush up to the top of his ears. The intimacy of your kitchen hits you all at once. Zayne’s soft, raspy voice echoes off the walls, his coat hung by the door and his shoes lined up with yours by the entryway. 
You already know what wish to make before he even finishes slightly off-key but so endearing singing. 
“Do you also want to make a wish?” You ask, your voice barely above a whisper. Zayne frowns, staring at you dubiously. “I don’t mind sharing.” It doesn’t seem to be enough to convince him.
He shakes his head, glancing down at the flickering flame before his green eyes meet yours once more—fleeting heartache tinting them one shade darker. “Hurry before the flame goes out.” 
Glancing at him sideways, you softly blow out the candles—making the same wish as last year and the one before that. The scent of burnt wax tickles your nostrils and almost makes you sneeze. Zayne's soft breathing reaches your ears. Linkon is asleep at this hour; the streetlights illuminate deserted streets, and only the occasional car breaks the silence with the dulled hum of their engine as they drive down your street. “What did you wish for?”
You smirk, turning your head towards him with a tired expression. “I am not falling for it this time. I want it to come true this year.” Zayne smiles softly, recalling last year when you had been tricked by Tara into admitting your birthday wish—your lips loosened by alcohol. 
“Alright then. May I get a clue, then?” Part of him wishes for you to be angrier at him, for you to not fall so easily for meagre apologies and soft looks. It makes overlooking his neglect a bit too easy for his liking. You tuck your bottom lip between your teeth, eyes glinting with mischief and affection—his heart stutters in his chest. 
Your soft sigh graces the heated skin of his cheek as you press a chaste kiss against it. His eyes flutter close, his breathing stilling as if scared that a single movement could render him undeserving of such tenderness. The hand resting on his knee instinctively reaches out to your bare leg, his thumb rubbing circles against the skin of your inner thigh.
“Is that a new dress?” His raspy tone falls flat, though his eyes convey what his voice cannot carry. You nod, your cheeks flushing the shade of a ripe pomegranate as you play with the light green fabric of the garment that you bought specifically for the occasion. “You look beautiful,” Zayne then adds, letting his eyes run over the rosy glow on your lips, the way your hair is pinned back to the sides, and the delicate bracelet he bought you that dangles from your left wrist. The briefest wave of possessiveness carries his next movements as he grabs your chin and slots his lips against yours, swiping his tongue on your bottom lip as he kisses you hungrily. 
It sends your heartbeat in a frenzy—a stark comparison with the slow and torturous crescendo that Zayne is setting up. The gentle tug of his fingers as they pull your hair loose from the pins, the unhurried glide of his hands down your arms, the steady yet shuddering breathing that fills the gap between your lips as he rests his forehead against yours—it’s all so overwhelmingly sickening, the way with which he unravels you thread by thread.
Darkened eyes meet yours, and the first genuine smile appears on his lips as he wipes the smudged lipstick mark from your cheek. “Happy birthday,” Zayne huffs, gliding the pad of his thumb against your swollen lip. Your grin spreads to your eyes—the skin at their corners wrinkling as you chuckle softly. 
A small, light blue gift bag catches your attention by his feet. You raise an eyebrow and watch the way his cheeks change colour. “Zayne,” you drag his name out. “I told you I didn't need anything.” He picks up the bag and sets it on your lap—the tissue paper sticking out has little snowflakes embossed on it, and the sight of it warms your chest.
You pull out a photo album; the cover is decorated with stickers, and a picture you thought lost to time. The corners have been flattened back into place after being folded for years, and the colours have faded considerably. 
A disbelieving chuckle slips out. “What—where did you get this?” Zayne smiles softly. 
“My parents cleaned their attic recently and mailed it back to me.” You glide your index on the protective layer on the album, marvelling at the photobooth strip that dates back from well over a decade ago. Zayne looks out of place; his pose is awkwardly static, and his expression is pinched in contrast to your carefree one. “There’s more inside.”
You cast him a glance, opening the front page with a shaky hand from the anticipation. One by one, you flip through the pages with pure shock written all over your face. 
Pictures of the two of you, coffee date receipts, movie tickets, and other memorabilia that Zayne kept. His terrible handwriting accompanies each memory, a brief description scribbled along each one. There’s a picture of your grandmother standing with Zayne’s parents at his eleventh birthday—Zayne stands by your side, matching to the best of his ability your crooked grin. Tears blur your vision, but you wipe them away unceremoniously with the back of your hand, not wanting to miss a single detail. 
He clears his throat, not too sure what to say. “I left some pages empty, so you can add the new ones we take at the photobooth.” You hurriedly flip to the last pages, fingers hovering over the empty spots in the shape of photo strips. 
“You made this? When did you even get the time?” you say incredulously, a chuckle coming out to join your words. You know Zayne’s schedule; he is either working or spending time with you. How he managed to pour this amount of effort into a gift is beyond comprehension. You tighten your grip on the album, pressing it against your chest. 
Zayne rubs the back of his neck. “I’ve been working on it for a while,” is all he says. “I take it you like it?” he asks you, having the nerve to sound uncertain. You instantly frown at him.
“Do I like it? Zayne, this is….” Words escape you, your brain scrambling to find a word that adequately conveys the meaning this gift holds.
Since the explosion, every single memory of the past was taken away from you—picture books, old sentimental letters, drawings. Nothing remained, and it left a gap that you struggled to reconcile with. You never finish the sentence, but Zayne does not need you to. His hand grips yours with a reassuring strength, and you pull him in for a hug, tucking your face in the collar of his shirt. 
He smells of the soap he uses at the hospital—it’s slightly citrusy with a lingering sterile and chemical scent.
“Did you shower?” You ask him, leaning back in the chair as you straighten the fabric of your dress where his hands had bunched it up. Zayne nods curtly, his eyes still on you when your shoulders sag in disappointment. He shakes his head in amusement, standing up before offering you a hand.
“C’mon, let’s get you in the shower.” Your limbs are heavy with exhaustion, but you follow him to the confines of your bathroom regardless. The space should feel much more crowded with him standing right behind you, but it only soothes the nerves frayed by waiting for him all night.
If you close your eyes long enough, you can picture the sympathetic looks from your friends—the intensity of them growing with each passing hour. You’re used to it—Zayne’s schedule is always hectic, and the long hours mean that the time spent together is as sparse as it is precious. Whenever he is on the night shift, it can be weeks before the two of you can finally spend a night together. The reunions are always bittersweet, honeyed professions and apologies hushed against bare skin whenever Zayne finally gets his hands on you. 
You can tell the distance and time spent apart wounds him, his impatience and neediness always coming through with the way he calls out your name in the early hours of the morning.
Which is why there is lingering culpability whenever a bud of resentment inevitably sprouts inside you—whenever he misses an important event because of an emergency. The rational side of you knows that there is no malicious intent in the way he consistently misses a date, a birthday, or a ceremony. However, insecurity’s roots run deep, and their grip persists stubbornly for weeks following. 
“Are you alright?” Zayne’s voice almost startles you as you turn to him. He’s holding two clean towels against his hip. The worry etched on his face mirrors your own. You nod, swallowing the lump that peskily lingers in the back of your throat. You turn your back to him, pretending to be absorbed with the ties of your dress so he doesn’t notice the tears welling down your lash line.
Zayne comes forward to rest his chin in the crook of your neck, putting down the towels before wrapping his arms around your waist. “I’m really sorry for missing your birthday.” His tone is strained with regret, heavied by the burden you know plagues him daily—it only furthers your anguish.
You feel ridiculous as tears escape and roll down the side of your cheek. You sniff loudly, the sound of it echoing off the tiles, and you feel Zayne tense up against your back. He sighs your name tenderly—another apology. A chuckle breaks its way past your lips, muffled by a strangled sob that overtakes it. “I’m sorry. I swear, I’m fine. It’s so stupid that—” Zayne grabs you by the shoulder, spinning you around so you face him. 
You almost flinch, tempted to hide your face in the crook of your elbow to spare him the sight of your loss of temper. His eyes search for yours, visibly pained by your tears. “I know you can’t help it and that it’s work—you’re saving lives for fuck’s sake, and I’m here crying over a birthday dinner,” you bitterly let out, laughing at yourself for even being this upset about it in the first place. 
Zayne’s chest feels tight; the feeling spreads to his throat as he softens his gaze at you. “Are you done talking?” You nod, tucking your trembling lip between your teeth and biting down until it leaves indents on the plush skin. Zayne opens his mouth, carefully weighing his words. “I know how important this dinner was to you, and I still missed it. What you’re feeling is only the natural reaction to my actions.” You’re about to protest, but his stern expression has you immediately shut your mouth. “Let me apologize properly. Let me make it up to you, please.”
He casts you a heated look, hungry eyes landing on your bitten mouth—a gaze so intense that it sends a shiver down your spine. It takes you a second, but you find the strength to move, to nod at him.
Without wasting a second, Zayne’s fingers reach for the zipper on the side of your dress without taking his eyes off your face. He intently watches the small, anticipating crease in your brows and the way with which your lips part when his cold fingers finally touch the bare skin of your ribs. “Did I tell you you looked beautiful?” He speaks, lowering his lips to your collarbone as he peels down one of the sleeves. 
You let out a nervous chuckle as he traces a path from your neck to your ear. “You might have mentioned it.” Your last words are lost to him as he lets the dress fall to the tiled floor. You take it upon yourself to unbutton his shirt, focusing on the task at hand even though you feel the intensity of his gaze on your face. 
It’s a slow race—both too tired to rush but pushed by a sense of urgency to lay claim on one another. Zayne kisses you deeper as he pushes you towards the shower—he still tastes like the sugary frosting. He sighs in relief against your mouth like one does when slipping into a warm bath in the dead of winter. You let your underwear fall to the ground—Zayne’s following suit right after. 
The water is too warm—it makes his frigid touch sting, but the pain soothes something rotten inside of you, so you make no mention of it to him. Pressed against the wall with nowhere to run, you watch affectionately as he steps forward, trapping you between his arms. You’re the one reaching out this time, pulling him down for another lazy kiss, swiping your tongue on his bottom lip just the way he likes. A soft moan leaves his mouth as his breathing grows more laboured. Rivulets of water trickle a path down your sternum, and Zayne’s hand follows—it lands on your waist, where he uses the leverage to pull you impossibly closer.
His knee slots between your legs, and he swallows your whine with a satisfied grin. The friction is just enough to make your mind cloudy but not overwhelming enough to pull you away from the syrupy words that Zayne lets drip out of his mouth.
“I really tried,” he utters as his hands grip your hips, haunching you further on his thigh as it makes direct contact with your core. You mumble his name as a praise. “I even went out to that bookstore you like during a lunch break. The one where they sell the terrible birthday cards with the puns that you somehow find hilarious.”
You frown. “They are hilarious.” Your falsely offended tone visibly amuses him, but he makes no further comment. He instead chooses to kiss you, effectively shutting you up. Your hand slips between your bodies, finding his hardened length pressed against his stomach. Zayne groans softly, a shuddering moan falling from his mouth as you run your hand along, keeping the pressure light enough—just to tease him. 
“Let me take care of you first,” he insists, wrapping his fingers around your wrist to pull your hand away. You know better than to argue with him, so you simply nod—wrapping your arms around his neck and playing with the longer tufts of hair where his nape is. 
With one hand between your legs and the other resting right above your breast, Zayne wastes no time. He knows you better than anyone—which spot makes you sigh, which one makes you moan. His thumb finds your clit as he slowly dips his index and middle fingers inside of you—a small satisfied noise building at the back of his throat. You tense up at the intrusion, your back arching as a reaction. You did not expect to be so sensitive, but the slow-paced circles he rubs against your bundle of nerves send warmth in waves down to your toes—it’s addicting and mind-numbing as pleasure runs its course.
“You’re so warm,” Zayne mumbles against the skin of your neck—biting lovingly at the wet skin. Your reply starts with a pleasured gasp as he curls his finger inside of you. 
“I think your hands are just abnormally cold,” you reply nonchalantly, meeting his eyes only to laugh at him quietly at the slightly puzzled expression that he gives you. His gestures pause for a second as he processes the information.
“All the time?” The surprise in his tone makes your heart throb with affection. Pursing your lips to the side, you debate whether to lie or not. “Why haven’t you ever mentioned it before?” Looking down at his still hand, you greedily urge him to continue his ministrations with your own hand. And while he resumes, earning a soft moan from you, he keeps his inquisitive gaze on you. 
“It’s not a bad thing. I like it,” you admit, cradling the side of his face, admiring the abyssal shade of black his hair turns into once it’s wet. “It feels like you.” Zayne lets out a small hum, seemingly satisfied, as he then picks up the pace of the fingers slipping in and out of you. The sudden change makes you clench around him, and a hiccup breaches past your lips as your head thuds against the wall behind you. 
“You’re close, aren’t you?” Zayne asks, letting his free hand wander down your breasts, where he watches as his fingers sink into the supple flesh. You nod, eyes screwed shut as the pressure in your lower stomach keeps building up, tightening its hold on your limbs until your toes feel numb. “It’s alright. I got you.”
The soft reassurance he so freely gives you is all it takes. The knot finally snaps, and your back arches off the wall—your chest now pressed firmly against his own. Zayne diligently works you through the waves of pleasure, his fingers knowing exactly what to do as you come down from your high. He pulls them out, letting the warm water wash on the remnants of you on his hand. 
Boneless and tired, you lean against the wall as Zayne gently puts you down—legs wobbling as your feet touch the tiled floor. “Can you stand while I clean you up?” You nod, brainlessly agreeing as Zayne grabs your soap and a washcloth. The soft raspberry and vanilla scent fills the air—it purposefully smells like his favourite dessert. With his surgical precision, he quickly washes you off, limb by limb, as he kneels to the ground to clean your legs. 
“This is the greatest birthday gift ever,” you wearily mumble, a dumb smile on your face. Zayne scoffs softly as he washes your hair, noticing the way you sag against him at the head massage. 
“Want me to help you?” You offer him, opening one eye only as he grabs the bottle of shower gel that he leaves permanently at your place. He seems amused by your offer but shakes his head softly. 
“I’m not too sure that I trust the reliability of your services right now,” he jokes, though his tone remains dry. You chuckle as Zayne rinses out the conditioner, making sure to work through the knots with his fingers. 
“You can always file a complaint,” you deject, stepping foot out of the shower and reaching for the towels he laid out earlier. The steam inside the bathroom fogs up the mirror, and you have to reach over and wipe it to witness the extent of Zayne’s markings on your neck. Unable to suppress the roll of the eye that follows, you part your hair for it to hide most of it before roughly towel drying it.
Zayne shuts the water off, wiping most of the water from the glass door—something you never do yourself, but he diligently does whenever he uses your shower. You hand him the towel, admiring the way the light casts soft shadows on the ridges of his back as he dries himself—the freckles and scars highlighting the planes of his muscles like starlight on the night sky.
The two of you brush your teeth in silence, shoulder to shoulder, and catch glimpses of each other through the mirror—it makes him blush deep red up to the tip of his ears. 
You’ve never felt this at ease, and the domestic feeling grips you by the throat but finds you to be a willing victim. 
You shiver as you open the door, the colder air slipping inside as you walk on your tiptoes to your bedroom. The curtains flail open in the chill of the breeze, and the first rays of timid sunlight tint the sky a deep magenta that fades into a lighter orange over the lilac expanse of the Linkon skyline. The sight takes your breath away.
Zayne enters the bedroom, his towel loosely wrapped around his waist—his gaze instantly finds yours even through the low light of the dusk that seeps into your bedroom. It casts in his eyes both the longing of yesterday and the exciting promise of tomorrow. 
He stops right behind you, wrapping his arms loosely around your waist and pulling your towel to the ground. It falls with a faint thud, and the air makes your warm skin pebble as Zayne runs his palms up and down your arms.
“Do you want to sleep?” He asks you, voice low and raw—there’s an underlying question that makes you smile.
“Did you have any other plans?” The grin in your voice is contagious—Zayne chuckles. 
He presses a tender peck to the side of your neck, softly breathing in the sweetened scent of your skin—he almost salivates. “I had an idea or two in mind. The night is still young.” You turn around to face him with a mirthful expression.
“The sun is rising as we speak.” Zayne’s mouth remains a straight line, but you notice the shift in his gaze.
“Pay no attention to it,” he whispers, grabbing you by the waist to pull you down with him on the bed. The two of you fall in the tangled mess that is your bedsheet—you never find the time in the morning to make it. Zayne always silently judges you for it but goes out of his way to clean up your room whenever he comes over. 
Naked limbs tangled together, Zayne settles between your thighs, taking his time to litter your chest with kisses. Your breath gets stuck in your throat—half plea, half whine. It’s delirious, the ease with which his hands know their way around the curves of your body. As if entirely mapped out inside his head, tucked away under the knowledge he always surprises you with. 
The fear of the missed days always lurks in the back of your mind—plaguing you with stubborn grief over things that haven’t happened. That each time he cancels a date, each time he gets held back at the hospital—it’s time that you’ll never recover. It’s greedy and selfish; you are aware of that at least, but it doesn’t ease the burning betrayal you feel as the days pass by, never to be seen again. 
“What are you thinking about?” Zayne asks, raising himself on his arms to take a good look at you—he’s visibly worried, and you flash him a reassuring smile.
“I just love you, that’s all.” Zayne looks momentarily stunned by your words; his breathing stops, and you wonder if you delivered the final blow. His eyes roam over your face, retracing soft contours of it with uncurbed endearment. He seems to be thinking for a split second before he captures your lips between his.
You kiss him back devotedly, pouring all of what you cannot say into a reciprocal chase of the lips that has Zayne groan against your panting mouth. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” he reverently admits, pulling your hips against his in a needy motion to feel your heat pressed against his hardening length.
Your retort dies in your throat, a soft whine that sounds like his name leaving your lips instead.
Hurried words are hushed in your ear, his breath mingling with your own as he kisses you from an awkward angle—too impatient to be parted from your mouth for more than a few seconds. “You think you can take me like this? Or do you want me to go down on you?” 
You shake your head, mind heady with both need and exhaustion that threatens to send it all tumbling down. “I’m good. You’re good.” Zayne gives you one last look, scanning your face.
He lines himself up to your entrance before pressing in, claiming your mouth in a bruising kiss as he moans softly. The needy sound he makes sets your skin on fire as he sinks to the hilt—the fullness steals your breath away. Time stops, and you brush away a few humid strands that are falling in front of Zayne’s eyes. 
“I need a moment,” he mutters, voice strained as he grips the sheets next to your head. You let him take all the time he wants, letting your hand wander down his neck, tracing invisible paths on the skin of his chest. There are small ice crystals forming down his forearms, but you smooth them over with your heated hands, the water pebbling down in his skin onto your bedsheets. When Zayne finally reopens his eyes, the evident need in them should feel overwhelming, but it serves to quench the reciprocal feeling that wrecks through you whenever he is nearby.
“Are you alright?” It’s your turn to express concern, and as per usual, Zayne brushes you off before the last syllable. He cradles your face, his irises almost entirely obscured by his dilated pupils. You swallow audibly, leaning into his palm to press a kiss on it.
Without much warning, Zayne moves his hip, snapping them forward with a soft grunt. The burn from the stretch is pleasurable—a constant reminder. Urging him, you slide back before arching your back so his length slides in. Getting the message, Zayne sets the pace—deep thrusts making your breath stutter. He drags his nose along the length of your neck to mumble your name along with a soft praise.
“You feel so good. I missed you all week, my pretty girl.” Zayne uncharacteristically blabs out of guilt, his words muffled by the delicate skin of your neck that he sucks into his mouth. His rhythm picks up as the muscles of his abdomen flex. One of his hands tightly grips your calf and brings your left leg over his shoulder. You whine—both at his honeyed words and the deeper angle at which he slams his hips into you.
“Fuck, ah—Zayne,” you pant out, clinging to his broad shoulders until your nails leave crimson streaks on his alabaster skin. 
His heavy-lidded gaze is the only thing betraying his exhaustion as he keeps up a brutal pace, taking out his week’s frustrations on you. His hands are everywhere, on your breasts, wrapping loosely around your neck as he captures your lips into a searing kiss—drinking in your sweet, soft pleas that warm him up from the inside like mulled wine. 
Each of his movements is deliberate, imbued with such care and devotion that a sob threatens its way up your throat. It’s a game of give and take in which neither feels deserving to be the winner. The both of you pour as much as you can in the hopes that as much of it can stick to the other—mending broken parts together. 
It heals old scars and soothes any bitterness that remains from the distance that creeps between the two of you whenever apart. It melts away like the frost on a cold autumn morning when the sunlight grazes the shimmering grass blades. 
Zayne’s fingers slip between your bodies and find with ease what he searches—dipping to where his cock is buried inside your heat before dragging them upward to your clit. Pleasure surges forward, and your world suddenly narrows to the rhythm of his touch, the scent of him, and the soft noises he lets out as he nips your earlobe to distract himself. 
Your breath catches—rising and falling in desperate, unsteady gasps as the pressure builds and builds. A wildfire catching ablaze and running its course through your bloodstream with an urgency that makes your head spin. Zayne follows close behind, his movements getting more erratic and less consistent as he rapidly feels the thread fraying.
He forces himself to open his eyes, struck with pure awe at the blissed-out expression on your face, at the otherworldly glow with which your skin catches the early light—a pearlescent sheen that mesmerizes him. Zayne mutters your name brokenly—a prayer, a praise, a plea for forgiveness that he earned lifetimes ago. 
For a moment, you forget everything but the warmth, the pressure, the overwhelming rush of him—of this—and when it finally breaks. Zayne is quick to notice; it’s a quiet surrender, a shiver that hums through every nerve, but he’s fluent in the tells of your body. A tremor runs through your every limb as he slows his pace down, savouring the way you clench impossibly tight around him. 
There’s a raw vulnerability in your gaze—a sudden outpouring of emotions that seeps into his skin like spilled ink on parchment. It chokes him up as the voices in the back of his head echo words he knows by heart by now. A tale as old as time that paints him as undeserving of this. Undeserving of you. You touch his cheek, and he blinks, momentarily stunned and brought back to the moment. The tender and loving grazing of your fingers against his forehead as you push his hair away from where it falls in front of his eyes.
It’s enough for him to ignore the pesky thoughts—at least for tonight. 
With a deeper thrust, burying his head into the crook of your neck where he unapologetically bites your shoulder, Zayne spills into you with a soft grunt. His hips stutter, slowing down until he is completely static and lets out the most delectable grunt that ends in a low whine that makes you acutely aware of how much he needed this. 
He collapses to your side—bone-deep exhaustion finally setting in. You wince as he pulls out of you, but he wastes no time cleaning the mess he left between your legs with your towel laying further on the bed. Sweat clings to your heated skin, but the gentle breeze cools it down almost immediately. 
“We should have showered after,” you flatly comment, and Zayne laughs—a strikingly loud and out-of-character laugh that takes you by surprise. He must be delirious with fatigue, but you tuck the sound of it away in your mind as you join him until your ribs hurt.
He exhales loudly, tracing circles on your arm. “I made a reservation at your favourite cafe tomorrow,” Zayne says, flipping on his side to look at you tenderly. He is absentmindedly playing with some unruly hair strands down your neck, his face still red. “I believe it’s in 5 hours. I can cancel if you want to sleep in.”
You huff softly, grabbing a pillow that fell to the floor and tucking it under your arm. “It’s alright. I’ll set an alarm.”
He looks at you unconvinced. “Is the alarm intended to wake me up? You’re not known to be easily awakened,” Zayne comments, an eyebrow inquisitively raised as he taunts you.
You wait a few seconds before answering, weighing your options. “What if I say it is?” As expected, Zayne rolls his eyes but doesn’t protest further. With one quick gesture, he drags the bed covers over the two of you and pulls you tightly against him. Though his breathing has returned to normal, his heartbeat betrays his seemingly calm state. 
He presses a kiss to the crown of your hair. “Happy birthday.” You hum, smiling as you tilt your head up to press a kiss on the top of his nose. “Get some sleep, doctor’s order,” he immediately adds with his usual sternness. You’re about to snarkily reply but stop yourself, knowing better than to argue with him when he uses such a tone. 
You settle against him, lulled to sleep by the steadying beat of his heart and the soft tickle of his breathing against your temple as the sun starts pouring its warm golden light in the quietude of your bedroom.
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burnthatbridge · 5 months ago
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8x01 misery missing scene
post the sad zoom birthday party also on ao3 if you prefer
They stick around long enough to help clear up. 
The party decorations come down faster than they went up. Each balloon that Buck pops is a perfect mirror to the ball of excitement in his chest that had shattered at Chris’ lacklustre response, at the stuttering video connection. Except, instead of slippery, soft rubber, the shards it left behind are hard, cutting glass. 
“The cake was excellent,” Tommy offers, with forced cheer, into the silence that descends once the sound of balloons bursting and streamers rustling stops. 
“Take the rest with you,” Eddie says, turning away, heading into the kitchen.
Buck follows him, Tommy close behind, and watches Eddie shove the happy birthday banner into the trash, the party hats too. Buck bites his lip on the protest that Eddie should keep them for next year — he doesn’t think he can bear to hear Eddie voice the fear that they might have as little use for them then as they did today. 
“You’re serious about the cake?” Tommy asks, crossing to where it sits on the kitchen table, one solitary slice consumed. Buck had a bite of Tommy’s, and it was good, but he didn’t feel like having his own. And Eddie hadn’t seemed up to stomaching any at all. 
“Yep,” Eddie nods, without looking over. “I don’t want it.” 
Buck pulls a large tupperware container from the cupboard, hands it over to Tommy, who boxes up the cake. But Buck also takes down a smaller container, saves a single slice, and tucks it away in the fridge. He knows Eddie will crave it later — maybe not tonight, but certainly by tomorrow morning — and will wish he hadn’t given it all away. It will be a nice surprise for him — a much needed one — to find that Buck didn’t let him. 
Buck walks the knife used to cut the cake to the sink and Eddie steps in to wash it. Buck hovers at his side, taskless. They had been going to stick around after surprising Chris, have a couple of beers, watch something, but, with how things went, it’s clear that’s not going to happen. 
“Eddie,” Buck starts, wants to ask if he’s okay — knows he’s not — but Eddie cuts him off. 
“Thanks for coming,” he says, clearly a dismissal, bidding them goodnight without looking up for scrubbing at a knife that must be long clean. 
Tommy replies, “Thank you for inviting us,” even though technically only he was; Buck — never a guest in Eddie’s home — more co-host than attendee, had helped to plan the party, and his presence was assumed, certain. 
At the same time, Buck says, “Of course.” He wouldn’t have been anywhere else today, on Chris’ birthday. Not unless flying to Texas to actually see him would have been an option. Hell, if Eddie had wanted to drive over to El Paso to visit, Buck would have gladly played chauffeur for the whole twelve hour drive. 
Tommy drops a reassuring hand onto the stiff surface that is Eddie’s shoulder, pats it, once, twice, three times, to no noticeable softening. “See you later, man.” He moves to the kitchen door, pauses, looking back at Buck. 
Buck takes a tentative step in Tommy’s direction, says, “See you tomorrow, Eds?” It’s supposed to be a statement, like Tommy’s. A stronger one, even, since Buck and Eddie have a shift together the next day, so their seeing each other should be a concrete occurrence, not a vague likelihood. But the words come out sounding more like a question and he doesn’t follow Tommy out of the room until he sees Eddie nod in answer, agreement. 
They only make it as far as the front door before the gnawing concern in Buck’s gut is too much.  
“Wait,” Buck says as Tommy turns the handle.
Tommy stops, door cracked open an inch, but not opening it any wider, and twists to face Buck, looks at him, expectant. 
“I think–” Buck starts, but he doesn’t quite know what he thinks, only that he shouldn’t be leaving now. Even though there’s nothing left to do: all traces of the party stripped away, their evening plans abandoned. Still, he shouldn’t be leaving. Shouldn’t be leaving Eddie. Not like this.
And he should tell Tommy that, explain it to him. Except… He probably doesn’t need to. Tommy knows him, knows Eddie, and he saw firsthand how things went down tonight. So Buck simply asks, “Can I make my own way? Catch you later?”
“Sure, babe.” Tommy’s expression is full of understanding, eyes soft. He tilts his head, slightly. “I’ll wait up for you?”
Buck nods. “Yeah, please.” He leans in, putting his mouth to Tommy’s mouth, pressing goodbye and gratitude into the kiss. 
Tommy pulls back, graces Buck with a small curling of his lips, the smile dimmer than his usual given how the evening has played out, and then he’s over the threshold, toting the tupperware filled to the brim with uncelebrated birthday cake with him. 
Buck closes the door behind him, gently, then pads back through the house. 
Eddie is in the kitchen, but not quite how Buck left him. He’s still facing away, but now, instead of washing the same spot on the blade of the cake knife over and over, he has his hands braced on the edge of the counter, his head hanging down, like the effort of keeping it up has become too much.
He’s got to know Buck hasn’t left, must hear him reentering the room, a single set of footsteps, but he doesn’t acknowledge him in any way. 
Buck goes to him. Stands at Eddie’s side, tries to see his expression in his dim reflection in the window, but it’s tricky with Eddie’s face lowered. “Eddie,” Buck says and is finally rewarded with Eddie looking up, raising his head so that his eyes meet Buck’s in the window.
The agony in his gaze is palpable.
Buck doesn’t know how to help. He saw how little comfort Eddie took from Tommy’s touch, so it seems pointless to try the same. But his hands itch to hold, to smooth over Eddie and check for points of pain, even though he knows his hurt is of the heart, not body. Knows it, because his own is the same. Buck hurts too: for Chris, for Eddie, for himself. 
“Eddie,” Buck repeats, with no destination in mind except a route out of Eddie’s misery. But, if anything, the anguish displayed plainly on Eddie’s face only deepens. He squeezes his eyes shut and his hands fist, fingers curling in so tight his knuckles whiten. 
“I’m losing him,” Eddie says. 
“You’re not,” Buck answers back, automatic, but no less insistent for it. Eddie isn’t losing Chris. He can’t be losing him. They can’t be losing him. 
“I am,” Eddie pushes back, lifting his hands from the counter to gesture wildly, grief uncontainable. “I’m losing him and it’s all my fault.”
“No.” Buck catches Eddie’s wrists, squeezes them, tries to press his belief, his faith, in Chris and Eddie’s relationship into Eddie’s skin, to transfer it to him. “You made a mistake, but he’s going to forgive you. He just needs a little more time.“
“I don’t think I can take any more time without him,” Eddie confesses, and there are tears shining in his eyes. 
Buck drops his hold on Eddie’s arms, but only so he can wind his own around him, tug him into an embrace.
Eddie lets him, tucks his face into Buck’s neck, chokes out, “I just want him to come home.”
“I know,” Buck murmurs, smoothing one hand down the line of Eddie’s spine, his other arm wrapped firmly round his shoulders. “I know. I do too.”
“He loves his grandparents,” Eddie goes on, voice muffled in Buck’s shirt collar. “He could decide to just stay with them.”
“He loves you,” Buck states, an irrefutable fact. This he knows: he has been privileged to witness so much of the love Christopher has for his dad. “He’s not going to stay with them forever.”
“But,” Eddie protests, sounding lost and unsure, his fingers wound in the fabric of Buck’s shirt, his breath damp against Buck skin, “You love your parents. That doesn’t make them good ones. Ones you’d want to be with if you had a better option.”
“You are nothing like my parents.” Buck squeezes Eddie tighter to him, in tune with the ferocity of his words. “You– you are the best father I have ever seen. You love Chris so, so much. And– and he knows you do, he doesn’t have to doubt it.” Not like Buck did, every day of his life.
He continues, “Your mom and dad are not the better option for him. Sure, he’s having a nice summer with them. But, even if he’s still upset right now, I know he’s missing you too. He’s going to come home, because he belongs here, with you.” Of that Buck is sure. It’s Chris and Eddie: their bond is too deep, their relationship too strong, to be broken. 
“But,” Eddie says again, “But what if he–”
“No,” Buck stops him, not willing to let Eddie hurt himself with his thoughts, his fears, more than he already has. “Chris loves you, Eddie. And he’s going to come home to you. He is.”
Buck doesn’t know if Eddie fully believes him, but his words are enough that Eddie slumps completely against him in something like relief. And all his stress and hurt over being separated from his son comes pouring out.
As he sobs, the spasming of his chest heaving against Buck’s and the trickle of his tears sliding down Buck’s skin, Buck holds him. Holds him and presses his lips to his temple and thinks please, Chris, please come home soon. Come home to us. 
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fuckyeahizzyhands · 3 months ago
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Con and Izzy tidbits from The Republic of Pirates convention 22–24 November 2024 :) ❤
(reconding of any kind was prohibited, this is compiled from I and other people managed to note down :) <3, photos were allowed at panels)
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What Con shared Izzy at MeetAndGreet and Fanmeet:
Izzy's hidden wrist tattoo: the name of Izzy’s lover who’s connected to the emerald ring has been on Con’s wrist in S2, under the glove; there is also a scar through the name; Con has a photograph on his phoen and talked about doing doing a raffle with David’s permission where the winner would get the name; they thought they were going to show it while shooting the death scene but then they put Taika on the other side so he had to use his left hand
The flavour of the toe: the toe was made from carrot cake with raspberry sauce
About his input for Izzy’s costume: he didn’t want him to have spurs because Izzy is a climber and rigger and they would not be practival for that; he loved the whip but they had to go through a lot of versions how to carry it; they want to make him another leather pants for the topless scenes that would be more „hugging of his bits“ but he nixed that idea
About scars on Izzy’s back: orginally there was supposed to be a back tattoo that would be lacerated by the scars but they didn’t have the time and butdget to do it („the scars didn’t také that long, but shaving my back…“ and proceeded to tell a story about how some years ago a production waxed his back ending in a straight line in the middle of the buttock only 4-5 days before the shooting, it resulted in a rash and Con had to do the scene laying on his back anyway)
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Con & Nathan’s panel:
(they were so brilliant and funny and cute together, I wish recording had been allowed)
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At the start: Con: Everybody say Fuck. Audience: FUCK! Con: Thank you.
Nathan: ...ask me about my flourishing career. Fan: Oh, did you like read my mind or something… that was on the tip of my… Con: The tip of your… Nathan: Conathan oh nonathan, we’re in public.
Fan: Is it true that when David Jenkins said he was gonna make Izzy convincingly pretend to die that you demanded in compensation a scene where you got to prance around with your tits out? Con: No. Trust me, he wrote the topless scene before he wrote the death scene. Cos he's met you fuckers.
Nathan: Lucius is a true alpha. Con: That’s a t-shirt you’re never gonna see. Nathan: Lucius is the true alpha, I'm not joking, make merch. Con: But alpha would be spelled: A, double B, A.
Fan: What was the weirdest question you got asked at convention? Con: Oh, we don't have time. Nathan: ...I've been asked whether Lucius is the top or bottom. Con: What's the answer? Nathan: The answer is, you'll never know, honey. Con: Oh, I think we know.
Fan: If your characters were forced at knife point to bake and decorate a cake, what kind of cake do you think Con: If I was forced at knife point to decorate a cake? THIS is the weirdest fucking question I've ever been asked. If it was for you lot, there would have to be cocks and jizz in it somewhere. Nathan: Jizz in it? Con: And that's quite easy to do with icing. Yeah, so probably that. (Con and Nathan start to wonder why is sb holding them at a knifepoint, Nathan says that Lucius’ would be bad bc he would be terrified, Con pretends to hold a knife to reenact the scene with shouting: DECORATE THE CAKE! :D)
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Fan: What are you a fan of? Con: Cheese. I just wanna make cheese.
(a callback to Con's Jim from Midsomer Murders and a big thank you to the person who gave me this! :) <3)
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Who would they want to work with (that they haven’t before)? Con - Tina Fey, Al Pacino, Keri Russell and would love to work with Russell T. Davies again. Nathan - Kathryn Hahn, Maya Rudolph.
Fan: What's the perfect cheese plate? Con: Oh, how long have we got? It's got to have chutney. It's got to have chutney, but it's got to have a homemade... ff they put Branston on the plate, I'm like, what the fuck? Anyone can do this. A cheese plate is a work of art. It's got to have hard and soft cheese. It's got to have soft cheese that's been at room temperature for some time. It's got to have innovative crackers. If you give me Branston and the Jacob’s, you can fuck off. It's got to have some onion though as well, whether it's a pickled onion or just sliced. And it's got to be a good mixture. So minimum four, preferably five different cheeses. There's got to be blue. I prefer a soft blue, but it's not contractual. There's got to be a very strong cheese. There's got to be some kind of cheddar. And there's gotta be... I like a goat's cheese, which isn’t for everyone. And THEN... yeah, I could be here all day answering that question. (until the end of the convention Con sometimes stands up with „So, cheese…“ :D) Also later they are asked about their favourite cheese and it’s Brie for Nathan and Blue Brie for Con.
Fan: If Izzy and Lucius lived in modern times and couldn’t be pirated anymore what kind of job would they have? Lucius would be a gossip columnist, researching assistant for an old professor that he thinks is an idiot or for a Tory MP, Con first starts talking about the movie Day of the Jackal and that Izzy would be like a character there „give us a quid or I stab you“ but then says: Another thing Izzy would be is really angry chef – and if anyone would compain and sent the meat back… it would be returned with something else in it.
(let me point you to this wonderful comic that Cliopadra made after this panel :D <3)
Fan: Did you také anything from the OFMD set or would you have liked to? Con: Well, only found out recently that some of us did. I’m fucking furious that I didn't. I would have taken the waistcoat and I would have taken the glove, but I didn't. Because nobody told me we were cancelled. Nathan would have taken the finger if he could, but the costume team made him another military jacket from the last episode.
What country that they haven’t been to would they like to visit? Con – Iceland. Nathan – Canada.
Fan: We heard from Samba that he would have liked for Roach to have gone out in a really chaotic way, taking as many enemies with him as possible. And I wondered if either of you had anything that would have liked your character to go or an alternative... Con: Live. Nathan: My ideal ending for the show is that there's this big, epic battle, a huge bloody 20 minutes battle. Everyone dies. Somehow Lucius survives the very end, stows away, and then Lucius is the final victor, and he's walking away, and just trips, hits his head and dies.
Con said he would like to do more comedy.
If they did a similar show like OFMD but in another era, what it would be? Con: Cowboys. Cowboys and vampires.
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Con & Rhys’ panel:
(also amazing together! But this one was more difficult for my brain because I was tired and the sound in the room was more difficult for me to understand, so less stuff here :| <3)
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There was originally an Izzy teaching Stede about slaps and punches that didn’t get into the final cut.
Rhys: I think they started, actually, really care for each other. Because they had a similar goal in the day, and it was to not only love, but look after Ed, this human that is so damaged, and so intricate and so interesting… so I think we united on that front. Con: Yeah. Rhys: And if we’d carried I think we would have been quite close actually. I think we nearly got there. Con: And then they killed me. Rhys: And then they killed the show.
While answering a question about whether they ever got slip any secrets a new meme / joke emerged end evolving, originating in an idea that Rhys has a sex tape with Kevin resulting in „KEVIN, GIVE ME THE TAPE!“ and Rhys shouting ‚Give me the tape’ several more times during the panel. Con: That’s gonna go on T-shirts. - Rhys didn’t think so saying that it is only going to last for a week, Con disagreed :) - I already saw stickers being made so I think Con was right :D.
There was a question if there was a scene that wasn’t there but they would like to have filmed and Rhys started saying that for some reason he started thinking of things of sexual nature. Then he starts describing a scene to Con: During the... whacking off. The candles. You’ve got no shirt on, I think Stede did see... Con: Whack off? Rhys continued speaking about sexual element there and something about a flirtattious moment and a bubble bath (?!). Con: Also that scene was slightly longer and there was a like face to face moment where we were, I would say nipple to nipple, but it was actually nipple to Rhys’ bellybutton. Because allegedly I’m short.
Rhys (speaking of Richard Curtis): He’s an icon. Con: Speaking of icons, hi, I Con.
Fan: Do you think that Izzy would officiate Ed and Stede’s matelotage? Con: Maybe in fanfiction. A) I don’t think they’d want him to. And B) Izzy’s not a romantic man so that wouldn’t work for him, he’d rather watch them fuck
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Me meeting Con:
Absolutely amaziiiiiing! NGK🥺❤. He's such a lovely, funny and kind human being! During the MeetAndGreet the first night he found out that I never met him and he stood and came to give me a hug (yeah, my brain absolutely shortcircuited!!! :)))) (and I got one more hug the last dayyyyy, wahoooo).
I made a design what I think Izzy's pirate flag would look like - Con liked it and agreed :), unfortunately this convention didn't allow giving gifts right to actors, only through gift table so I gave him T-shirt with that design through it (I was wearing the same T-shirt and giving out these stickers to fellow con attendees :D).
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When he was signing this brilliant Izzy topless show promo photo (O:)) he said: "Look at those shoulders, I mean, come on, I didn’t eat cake for so long." :D <3
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I shall treasure this experience and I very much hope to meet him again in the future! ❤❤❤
(by the way, I redid my pc corner - my interests are complete mystery :D)
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THE MUPPETS!
The amazing Fyre created several muppets and Con was very happy that he could get the Izzy one :) ❤! (as were Vico and Kristian, unfortunately Rhys didn't have suitcase space and Nathan is a bit weirded out by muppets in general :) <3)
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(Nathan muppet tried to touch Izzy muppet's hair :D)
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(as I said no direct gift giving, but thievery happened :D <3)
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Other tidbits:
(if/when I remember or find more, I will add them here :))
There was a four year old cosplaying as princess Izzy and at the photo Con asked how old she was - she said 4, and he went “oh I’m a but older than that”, stood up “but not much taller” :D <3.
Con at the end of the one of the panels: Scary times, guys. We are at our best when we’re fighting back. Fight back. And look to your community and support your community. We’ve been here before, we’ll be here again. Fight back. ❤
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rootspiral · 2 months ago
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Agatha All Along deep dive: episode 8 part 6
(Wandavision entries: [1][2][3])
(AAA entries: ep1 [1][2][3][4] ep2 [1][2][3][4] ep3 [1][2][3] ep4 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][+1] ep5 [1][2][3][4][5] ep6 [1][2][3] ep7 [1][2][3][4][5][6] ep8 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9] ep9 [1][2][3][4][5][6])
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agatha looks wistfully at billy. now that jen is gone, all that's left to do is to save him - or doom him, she doesn't even know anymore.
funny how billy has no idea he's created the Road and needs to ask agatha for guidance. and the truth is, agatha is the creator, author, perpetrator, whatever you want to call her. not only did she came up with the con, she actively manipulated billy into shaping the Road the way she wanted.
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agatha asks billy to let her siphon some of his magic. you never know, she's covering all her bases. billy thinks she's gonna kill him, obviously. I wouldn't, she says, I won't. and she still isn't lying, killing billy at this point would be useless. but she has twisted the truth so much and so consistently that billy can't tell the difference anymore, and doesn't care to.
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look how he challenges her. agatha always tries to have her cake and eat it too, she tried to keep billy all for herself without doing any emotional work, she wanted to bond with him without opening up and making herself vulnerable. she wanted to take without giving anything in return. and billy won't let her.
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yeah, she didn't think that would work. there's only one way left to get billy out of this situation.
she'll have to be the bigger person, for once. yikes.
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what gets me is that agatha knows how to do this. she has studied so much and has such a deep knowledge of witchcraft that she can piece together what billy needs to do, based only on the few hints rio just gave her about reincarnation. she knows how to use billy's magic, wanda's magic, better than they ever did! no wonder she coveted their power, no wonder she thought she deserved it more that them.
on the other hand, her extraordinary book knowledge would make her into the perfect teacher, as this scene is about to prove. but she's not selfless enough for that, not yet.
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and if billy gets what he wants, he'll get transported out of the Road. what do you know! she is being selfless!
no, no she ain't. she promised rio she'd get billy out. there's never anything straightforward with her.
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billy has the power to bring back a loved one, give him another life, another spin on the dance floor. can you even imagine how much agatha COVETS that power? how much she resents rio for wanting to stop billy, to prevent it?! this is why she went after wanda in the first place, she was looking for this specific power.
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she knows exactly what to say, how to guide him, when to be soft and when to be strict. I keep thinking, imagine if her mother had allowed her to be part of the coven and be taught and learn freely. this is so obviously her calling. imagine all the good she could have done for witchfolk with her research, with the knowledge she's be eager to teach to her pupils.
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nicky died in his sleep too. she also felt him close, she felt at home, she fell asleep listening to him breathing. how many times has she wished she had this very power, the power to go back to that moment and catch nicky's soul before rio took it? how many time has she pictured it in her mind? of course she knows what billy needs to do.
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she is being so reassuring, so sure, so in control. I can't.
you breathe for yourself. you breathe for him. you breathe for everything he is. you hold it all inside of you. but it can't stay there. the memories. the feelings.
she is talking about nicky. fuck.
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ha, she even gets to nerd out a little. of course she would know, she is a serial killer and she was married to Death!
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billy absolutely felt that boy die, didn't he? he's having a lot of new experiences today, talk about a coming of age story, speedrun edition!
that's why he absolutely needs a guide, all that rogue ability, you leave him alone for a second and he starts reshaping realities and killing innocents left and right. he deserves better than that.
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this is heartbreaking. tommy shepherd, dying alone, scared and forgotten. just one of the 120 bodies a minute.
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this FUCKING SHOW
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out of death, life. tommy maximoff kicks out of the water with so much force it cracks the floor. and the crack looks like water too, doesn't it? she's even in her shift like when she gave birth to nicky.
yes I'm saying that agatha absolutely just delivered tommy and she's his mom now. I'm not making the rules, just pointing out the facts.
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and her hands are empty again
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a step forward that took her so many years and so much pain, suffered and inflicted. even if she can only admit it to herself.
it wasn't rio's fault. it wasn't anybody's fault.
sometimes, boys die.
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agatha alone and unguarded is such a sad wretched thing
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a dandelion is the perfect metaphor for nicky, a little seed that the wind will blow away in a moment
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like, death cannot exist without life. rio is as much life as she is death, she helps things grow as well as decay. agatha was so stubbornly focused on rio (and/or nature) taking nicky away that she forgot how rio gave him life too.
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nicky's dandelion seed, agatha's tears, the soil from the crack that birthed tommy. this is ancient spellcraft.
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and since this is agatha we're talking a bout, she has to bitch and moan and bargain with nature a little
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and the little dandelion is born and gone in a second.
this. fucking. show.
next up: rio is taking the break up as well as you'd expect.
go to episode 8 part 7
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motthe · 3 months ago
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I’m here to add fluff!! So I remember how in one of ur Viktor fics he had a mug for our lumen cause we just liked sitting in the liquid (then Jayce drank it 😔) so I was thinking ‘well wouldn’t that be funny to see?’
Basically imagine gn!reader is baking and convinces Viktor to help out and both lumens are being cute and reader leaves a bowl out full of batter while trying to teach Viktor how to bake and said lumen has went into the batter and funny hijinks enssues 😌
awwww this is so warm and fluffy!! i hope you enjoy this drabble inspired by your cute idea!!
With the last of his exams done, Viktor returned to his dorm. Some of his coevals wished him happy holidays as they passed by, packed and ready to head home for the winter break.
There was a time Viktor hated this time of the year. While he’d been given special permission to remain on school grounds over break, it left him with little to do other than work on personal projects or attend meetings with Heimerdinger, who always didn’t have much in the way of family. He’d even gone as far as to invite him to his own home for the holidays, but Viktor refused to be a burden. He was sure to thank his professor for the hospitality.
For a time, the winter would remain an empty season for his existence. Through it all, his fated’s lumen kept him sane. Should the loneliness creep to deeply into his head, you were there to nudge him back into reality with your soft touch.
This year was different, your sugary pink light tugging at the end of the scarf wrapped around his neck. His excitement seemed to fuel yours, that sweet scent you exuded surrounding his senses.
You’d met one another in the spring. Heimerdinger had been pushing for Viktor to attend his favorite bakery for some time now. He’d barely gotten through the door before that familiar scent hit him from head to toe. Your lumen had gone from a power eye pink to a blushing white, drifting high over the other customers and dancing through the air. You all but cartwheeled into another lumen, sending a flash across the store that would make a lighthouse envious.
When the brilliance had died down, he watched the tawny lumen—his lumen—float back down into waiting hands. They were caked in flour, a dusting across your cheek as your eyes met.
Now, he spent much of free time visiting you—the baker that owned and lived above Heimerdinger’s beloved shop.
Rapping on your door, it was barely two seconds before footsteps sounded and you were opening the door with a grin—flour powdering your cheek once more.
“Welcome back, my love,” you greeted, pulling him into a warm hug but not before kissing his cheek. “How was the exam?”
“Fine,” he murmured, melting into your arms as the smell of something cooking surfaced. “What are you making?”
“I wanted to celebrate,” you hummed, pulling him into your apartment and out of the cold. He barely had time to blink before you were pulling his jacket off and unwinding the scarf you’d made him in the fall.
He followed you at his own pace into the kitchen, smiling as your lumens twirled together through the air. The warmth of the scene lit up something in his chest.
“I tried out dozens of recipes and finally found one that I think will match. I may have added a few more ingredients to make it a bit more hearty, but if you hate it I left a portion of the original in the fridge!”
You moved the lid from the pot steaming on the stove to reveal the meal. His heart about burst as he limped over, the scent different but still so very familiar.
“How did you..?” He recalled telling you it was a family recipe that he never learned. He thought it had died with his mother.
“My grandparents were from Zaun,” you said softly, covering the soup. “So I asked about the ingredients they had access to and worked from there.”
“I dont know what to say,” he murmured, overwhelmed with emotion.
“Nothing to say, just eat!” you chirped, fetching him a bowl. “I also have brownie batter to finish for dessert.”
He looked to the bowl on the counter before you waved him on.
“Go sit! I’ll be right there with everything.”
“Let me help with something, at least,” he argued gently.
You giggled and moved to the fridge, pulling out a bowl of salad. “Then you can bring this over for me! Thank you.”
You pressed another kiss to his cheek, sending him on as you wiped your hands on your apron and began gathering the plates and bowls.
It wasn’t long before you both were sat at the table. The candles you had lit left him nervous, not used to being wooed. You soon brought him out of his shell by talking about your day, always finding ingenious ways to turn the conversation around to him.
“You have enough room for brownies?” you asked, beginning to clear the table before he gently covered your hands with one of his.
“No, allow me. You cooked, so I shall clean.”
You sighed and relinquished the chore, but the joy in your eyes was clear.
As he brought everything to the sink, you worked on putting up the leftovers. By the time you both finished, you realized you forgot to preheat the oven.
Viktor leaned against the counter as you turned the dial, glancing down at the bowl of batter. He chuckled as your lumen landed on the edge before his eyes widened as the bowl began to tip.
He grabbed the edge to pull it back down but it sent you catapulting into the brown substance.
“Oh, dear,” he whispered.
“Hmm?” You turned, raising an eyebrow as he stepped in front of the bowl. “Everything okay?”
“Eh, yes,” he mumbled, scratching behind his ear.
“Okay,” you chuckled, eyes glancing over his shoulder. “Can you pass me the bowl? I need to pour it into a dish.”
“Yes, one moment,” he said, turned to find your lumen struggling to rise from the batter. Setting his cane to the side. He reached in to pluck you out, but your laughter had him jumping.
“When did that get in there?” you asked, head by his shoulder.
“You fell,” he mumbled, holding you up. “I’ll grab a rag.”
“Okay,” you giggled, taking the bowl.
As he cleaned your lumen off, he eyed the batter on his fingers and, too curious for his own good, brought them to his mouth.
As always, your baking was heavenly.
When he returned to your side, you snorted when your eyes found his face before grabbing his chin. He closed his eyes as you went in for a kiss, a shudder working through him as your tongue swiped at the corner of his mouth instead.
“Taste good?” you giggled, pecking him once for good measure.
“Of course,” he coughed, flushed.
You just laughed.
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acciocriativity · 5 months ago
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-> When they reject you…
... but it wasn't a confession (WOOSAN version)
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Genre: angst-ish, bittersweet endings, unrequited love (hard to say from each side tho)
Tags/ Warnings: angsty; bittersweet endings; implied bullying in San's part not done by him; implied body shame in San's part not done by him; San's a coward and don't do anything about it; i don't even now what to say about wooyoung's part, that's a warning?
WC: 1,4 k
N/A: I said that I'd make more of these and here they are (after 8 whole months, I'm so sorry). I didn't forget about the lovely people that loved the MATZ version, this is for you guys!
Please reblog my work if you enjoyed it, it helps to reach other people <3
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MATZ Version
Ateez Masterlist
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JEONG WOOYOUNG (정우영)
You heard the soft buzz of your phone on your beside table, yet the only thing you did was turn around and adjust the thick blanket under your chin. It was getting cold by the minute and a simple thought crossed your mind before you closed your eyes once again, maybe you should see him one last time.
If anyone told you a week ago that you’d be ignoring Wooyoung’s calls, you wouldn’t believe it, but here you are. You could’ve just block him for once and for all, but a little sick part within you liked to hear the proof of his neediness and desperation. Every call were the solid evidence that it wasn’t all in your head, in fact, he was the once who always seemed to cling to you.
The silence filled the room for barely five seconds, then the phone started ringing again.
You wish you could say you slept well that night, knowing that he wouldn’t leave any voicemails, that little prideful jerk. Instead, the same scene appeared over and over in your mind.
You still could feel his hands around your waist. He made it all so casual, natural and comfortable, like it was supposed to be that way between friends. However, you knew he only ever called you late at night, sometimes just to talk when he couldn’t fall asleep, others to beg you to come pick him up and somewhere in between those moments, he made you believe you were special to him. How special or in what way was a work in progress, you were unsure if his actions should worry you, if maybe it was more than friendly, until he made it all clear a week ago.
It was his birthday, so you did everything you could to make a memorable night, even baked the giant birthday cake yourself. Sometime after the loud music turned into background noise, he found you by the kitchen, then asked you to wait upstairs for him. His room was the only one locked in the entire house, so he left you with the key after sending one of his cheeky little winks your way. You still remember how giddy you felt, because you just received the perfect opportunity to give him that one watch he was thinking about buying it for months now.
The whole day you couldn’t really get a hold of him, something you can not blame Wooyoung of all people for, still, it was dangerously close to midnight. Was it too much to ask for some time with you best friend on his birthday? No, no it wasn’t. You weren’t asking for anything much than a simple conversation and a little bit of appreciation, something you were yet to hear from him. So you waited as much as your patience allowed.
Bu he didn’t show up.
And you knew exactly where he was, most likely having the time of his life surrounded by all your mutual friends, and you did love that about him. You’d always say that he was like your personal ray of sunshine, people like him would always have the spotlight and you also knew he enjoyed that very much. How can you wish something else for him on his day? You wish he had all the fun in the world and maybe share a bit with you as well.
So after waiting for fifteen minutes, you decided that you gave him enough grace already. Wooyoung could get lost in the moment sometimes, so you decided you were going to remind him in the pettiest way you could think of.
But none of that mattered when you laid eyes on him, standing at the bottom of the stairs. He held close one of your mutual closest friend, closer then you remembered them together before. They both were in a small circle by the wall, laughing at something he whispered. Were they a thing now? How did you not know? But there was a larger question taking all the space in your head. Is this how you look like beside him? You were used to the closeness, you enjoyed the intimacy, it could easily be you there right now.
Yet, it wasn’t you and it won’t be.
So why the hell can’t he accept that and deal with the consequences of his own actions? You were giving him what he asked for, space.
Still, he’s calling again.
CHOI SAN (최산)
The moment your existence intertwined with San’s back in college, it felt like people’s perception of you changed all of a sudden. You were nobody to most, then became somebody to him and as a consequence, someone to his friends and acquaintances. It would be fascinating to watch if it wasn’t your own life and if it wasn’t so freaking depressing. A frequent comment you’d hear was ‘how odd the two of you look next to each other’, and there was nothing you could do against a sly remark like that, specially when it comes from his so called friends, and you knew San always took that as a light joke about your differences in personalities.
You don’t remember how it happened, one day you sat beside him at the very back of a class you, so desperately, wanted to skip but couldn’t, the other day you both were attached to the hip. And how could you not? Never in you life you thought you’d describe a man as sweet, not with you at least, but there he was, every day, proving you wrong.
To be in the vicinity as someone like him was a once in a lifetime kind of experience, but to be his friend was another thing entirely. San was one of those people that can make you feel at the top of the world when he pays attention to you, the kind of person that truly seeks connection with those around him and when someone talks, he listens with all his body.
You tried to keep those pros in your mind, but more often than not you caught yourself pondering if it was still worth the headache after all those years, like right now.
You promised yourself you’d come to this stupid five-year college reunion, because otherwise San’d whine about it for a whole month, like you not coming would make him lonely somehow, like that was even a possibility.
Then, it started.
It always does one way or another.
This time was a “innocent joke” about how you glued yourself to San back in the day. They all laughed including yourself, you did not want to make a scene, you never do.
Then there was the stares at the two of you sitting beside each other. That was the funniest part for them, the simple thought that you could still have some hope for something to happen between the two of you to this day and age was hysterical. You could tell since the very start of your friendship what those people thought about you and what your place should be.
Maybe if you ever felt anything towards San in that way, it’d hurt you deeply, but you didn’t and still don’t, so it just pisses you off to no end. However, you don’t have the courage to bring it up and perhaps you should’ve done then, but now you barely see any of them, so what is it one more day?
“You’re good?”, he leaned towards you and his hands caressed your lower arm like it was second nature to him.
You nodded, then whispered as you grabbed your purse, “I’ll be back in a minute”.
It was a long walk to the nearest bathroom, outside of the gymnasium, long enough to calm yourself down and to think clearly.
All the while San was downing a drink after the other, laughing at something he barely heard from across the big table of 9 he was in. Red in the face, coughing like crazy in the middle of the chaos, he did not see you walking up to him.
“What?”, he asked the third time, leaning in to hear his friend better.
“Just admit it already, do you like her, don’t you?”
It took him a few seconds to figure it out what that was about, then a flash of you came into his mind and the recognition on his face was clear to them all. He sobered up quick and sat upright, putting his body weight on top of the table.
You don’t hear what the answer was and you don’t need to. Their laughter, his laughter, echoed in between the song change.
So maybe he wasn’t that innocent after all.
Taglist: @h3arteyes4mingi
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silverdragon-imagines-blog · 2 months ago
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This is my happiness
[Finally wrote the sequel to "What about your happiness?". I hope you all enjoy these two getting back together to end off 2024. ^u^]
Sailing away from Wano was... different. After so long without the full crew, Sanji found himself feeling tense. And not just because of everything that had changed since the last time they had all been together.
Whole Cake Island was one thing, but after that call during the raid with Zoro... well, things were tense now.
They had broken up, that had been said and done for a long time now, but even during the party after Onigashima, he could feel lingering eyes on him. He never made eye contact, but he knew it was Zoro. Who else could it be really?
Despite things ending amicably between them, Sanji could feel the air between them was different now. It was not exactly tense, but there was something he couldn't place.
It had been a few days of this, and he dreaded when the crew would ask questions. Unfortunately for him, Nami's knowing looks let him know that the questions would come sooner than he would like.
"Sanji-kun, could I talk to you for a minute?" the navigator had come into the galley only five days from Wano, and of course, he could never deny her anything.
"Of course, my sweet! Anything you desire, I will do my best to give you," Sanji smiled, turning away from meal prep to give her his full attention.
Nami smiled, taking a seat at the bar separating the kitchen and dining room.
"I wanted to see how you were doing after everything at Wano. I saw you at the party with several women, and I was curious where you disappeared to after." Nami's smile was as lovely as it was mischievous. She propped her chin up on her hands as she looked at Sanji.
Sanji could feel himself flush at the question, clearing his throat for a moment. The afterparty at Wano was lovely, and he enjoyed the company he found himself in, especially the chance to flirt with all of the beautiful ladies who joined him. However...
"Your insinuation, while flattering my sweet, is incorrect," Sanji looked away, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. I was with many beautiful ladies, that is true. However, after some time, I left the party to go back to where we were staying. No one was with me."
He didn't say that the thought of bringing anyone back with him felt... wrong. Though he supposed there wasn't a reason for that feeling. He could have taken someone back and no one would be upset, and yet.
"Really? That's a shame, you looked like you were having a great time."
"I was, Nami dear, that I can promise you. What brought on the questions though?"
Nami shrugged, though her kind smile betrayed her.
"I suppose I wanted to see how you were really feeling. After everything we went through together, I guess I wanted to make sure you're actually okay and not just lying to save face again."
"Ah, I see," Sanji nodded, taking a deep breath as he looked at Nami properly, "I'll admit that things are... different now I suppose. Not necessarily in a bad way, but..."
He trails off, looking out the small porthole window above the sink. He hears Nami get up from her seat and approach him, her soft hand holding onto his own.
"Are you happy, Sanji?"
That was the question wasn't it. He wished he could answer her yes, he was happy now, but he knew that wouldn't quite be true. He sighed, turning to face her.
"I wish I could say I was happy, Nami dearest, that I finally have everything I wanted. But now I think that what I had was enough and it's too late to change it."
Nami shook her head, squeezing his hand in hers for a moment. With a smile, she started to tug him to come with her.
"I think you'll find that not every mistake has to stay permanent."
She led him out to the deck, the bright sun blinding for a moment before he took in the scene before him. Luffy was messing around on deck with Chopper as Franky and Usopp shared their projects with each other. Brook was playing his violin as Jinbei watched from the upper deck with Robin watering her plants beside him. And then there was Zoro, leaning against the main mast as he took in everything going on. From here, it looked like nothing changed at all, that they were all just how they were so many months ago. Back when he and Zoro could linger near each other without tension filling the air.
Nami led him down the stairs towards Zoro and he could feel as each step made him nervous. It was like he was admitting he was wrong, and while he knew that was exactly the point, it felt like a failure. Like he was admitting that he missed waking up next to Zoro, that he missed the late night conversations and casual touches that lingered long after the sparring concluded.
He was lying to himself, he did miss all of those things, but why would Nami bring him to Zoro? Zoro who he was sure wanted nothing to do with him. Nami must have sensed his distress, as she looked back at him just a few steps away from the relaxed moss on the deck.
"Hey, it'll be okay," she said, squeezing his hand again. "Trust me that you're both more alike than you think. I've sailed with you for a long time, and I know how you both are."
"My dear, I want to trust you, but I don't think I believe that he'd want anything to do with me outside of being crewmates."
Nami squeezed his hand again, tugging him the last few steps to stand in front of Zoro. His shadow blocked the light, causing Zoro to open his eye.
"You both are lying to yourselves, and I know it's hurting you just as much as it's hurting the crew. Please just try talking to each other, I think you both need it."
There, Nami left him as she walked back to the upper deck. Sanji stood there, just watching Zoro as the swordsman looked back at him. They said nothing to each other, but it was almost like they both knew what each other was saying with the silence.
Zoro stood up, stretching and yawning. Sanji just stood there, taking the time to light a cigarette, if only to relax his nerves.
"C'mon, dartbrow, let's go somewhere away from the crew."
Sanji nodded and followed quietly as Zoro headed up the ladder to the crow's nest. It was quiet compared to the deck, but as the swordsman closed the trap door, it felt almost oppressive. Sanji elected to sit on the bench, opening the window just enough to breathe out the smoke from his cigarette. He watched Zoro pace the room for a minute, until he sighed and sat on the ground next to him with his back to the bench.
"I know what the witch is trying to do," Zoro spoke, though he did not look Sanji's way, "we talked in Wano. She's worried I think, but I already told her it's fine. My only concern as far as this," he gestured to Sanji and himself, "is concerned, is you."
Sanji took a long drag of his cigarette, letting the smoke settle in his lungs before he breathed out through the window.
"What concern, shitty mosshead? It's over, we both agreed on that, right?"
"We did."
At this, Zoro turned to him, his expression closed off as he regarded Sanji.
"Cook, the only thing I care about now is your happiness. I saw you with those women, and I don't think you've ever smiled that brightly since I've known you."
It felt like a punch in the gut, how wrong Sanji really was about how much Zoro cared about him even now that they weren't together. He sat there, smoking away until his cigarette burned down to the filter. He exhaled, the sound turning to a sigh at the end.
"I think I know now what my happiness is, and how stupid I've been." Sanji admitted, sliding off the bench to be at the same level as Zoro. He looked into the other's eye, seeing his confusion. It was amusing, but he didn't let it linger any more than was necessary. He closed the distance, letting his lips meet Zoro's and pressing himself as close to the other as he could. He wrapped his arms around him, feeling tears start to gather in his eyes as he felt Zoro reciprocate the kiss.
He pulled away to rest his forehead against Zoro's, letting himself take in what he almost lost.
"This, right here, is my happiness. That is if you'll have me."
Zoro chuckled, a calloused hand running through blonde locks as Zoro smiled at him.
"I'd be happy to have you back, Curls. As long as you want."
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tinned-beef · 7 months ago
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UMBRELLA ACADEMY S4 EP 1 SPOILERS
the text under the read more has spoilers for the first episode of season 4! it’s a summary of everything i can remember from the premiere. please don’t click if you do not want spoilers!
first scene is gene and jean playing cards with santa baby in the background
they leave the card game to negotiate for two copies of love on loan- one starring allison hargreeves (and tom holland lmao) and the other starring a different actor
gene kills the dealer and they take the copies
luther is a stripper- although a very awkward one. there’s only one lady in the crowd that seems invested
diego is a mailman. he’s tired of his in laws (who are alive in this timeline!), tired of parenting, and even more tired of lila’s lies and secrets
allison is trying to work her way back up into acting. she’s currently stuck doing detergent commercials. she clashes with claire’s teenage attitude
klaus lives in allison’s basement and helps her with claire. he’s been sober for three years
five is investigating the keepers, although the cia wants him to put an end to his search as they deem it unnecessary
ben just got let out of prison (after 3-4 years?) he calls luther to pick him up
viktor gets dumped by his girlfriend and owns a bar. he seems to have a lot of friends there
lila goes to the keeper meetings with the alibi of having a book club
it’s lila and diego’s daughters birthday. her name is grace! she’s turning six
luther brings ben along
five says it’s good to have ben back
allison drops off claire and klaus but refuses to come at first. she has an audition tomorrow and knows nobody will want her there
lila goes out for a breath of fresh air and wrangles allison inside with her
things are very awkward with allison. especially between her and luther
luther tells diego that people would kill to have what he has. he says sloane and him wished for a life like diego’s
luther breaks the piñata and messes up the birthday cake in the process
luther reminds viktor of the party, and while he is reluctant to come he eventually does. however he gets kidnapped before he can enter lol
lila and five run into each other at the keeper (keepers??) meeting and find out gene and jean are waiting for the cleanse. when they ask for clarification they get threatened
lila and five go out for dinner after to talk over their findings. lila swipes at fives face like ‘ugh all you hargreeves boys eat the same.’ diego sees through the restaurant windows. he thinks lila is sneaking out with five during her ‘book club’ meetings
luther takes ben back to where he’s living. it’s the umbrella academy building- now an abandoned home for wayward boys
there’s a message left for him that viktor has been kidnapped
luther calls the family over to rescue viktor
the kidnapper reveals himself as jennifer’s dad. she attended the keeper meetings for years and eventually stopped talking to him. he wants to get her back and gives the siblings the box of umbrella academy artifacts that jennifer had
five agrees after seeing that the box has a jar of marigolds in it
the siblings go out for teppanyaki
they agree to not drink the jar- nobody really wants their powers back
ben swipes the jar
ben tells them to have one last drink for old times sake, his treat. all the siblings drink
it’s revealed that ben put the marigolds in their shots
all in all a really incredible episode! the family bonding is STRONG in this one guys. they’re closer than they’ve ever been. definitely hyped up for the remaining episodes
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empty-vessel-of-a-person · 5 months ago
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"Eternal Attachment" Post Zayne Birthday Event Review + Delulu
Note: Please take this with a grain of salt as I cry myself for this one. This is personal opinion and delulu brain working so no need to go violent at me as none of this was confirmed beside the cannon events connected to his birthday. MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS. YOU ARE WARNED!!!! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT FOR NSFW CONTENTS
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First Things first. Please stop comparing Rafayel's and Zayne's Birthday Event because they are special in their own way. Plus I trust that the dev knows what they are doing. In my opinion, they are basing the stories on the boys personalities and overall impact to the main stories. True we ain't able to give him a kiss on his birthday but we marked him on Misty invasion. All is fair guys! And if the dev give us same plots, then what are we going t look forward to?
Zayne's birthday event left us with warm feeling and overall stronger bond with him. His character development and relationship development is awesome and the fact the he easily smiles now gives me satisfaction. I love him so much.
The most memorable part of this event for me is the recording of Zayne's video message to his parents and him holding our hands in front of everyone. When he mentioned that "they already know you" it means he talks about us to his parents. This is again something so intimate yet so wholesome. He did really love us. And the holding hands is showing that he is taking claim on us. Yes, Zayne! I belong to you!
Zayne and M/C had s3x after the cake scene. Ok this is the delulu me, but M/C subtly offer her self to Zayne when she says "the birthday boy is allowed to be greedier than usual" and Zayne mentioning "my appetite is perfect for handling anything from you", "perhaps, it's because I already taste something sweeter" this might be just my imagination but remember that In the previous Banner he tasted "us" solidifying the fact that we are indeed and not just in a relationship with him but we are already intimate.
Dawn breaker is present in Zayne's body during this event/ This is yet a again a mix of canon and delulu. Canon because in Zayne's anecdote, Dawnbreaker was there during M/C singing happy birthday. Delulu because I feel like Dawnbreaker never left he is the one delivering the line "I wish that in the years to come, I won't have to imagine spending everyday of my life with someone". Think about it his way, Why would Dr. Zayne imagine that he is with us, when he is actually and physically with us? And the more deluded part of my brain tells me he is there as well when we are being intimate with Zayne and Zayne is actually aware of Dawnbreaker.
From here on will be the dark and sad side of the delulu I'm in due to this card. When I mention that Dr. Zayne was aware of Dawnbreaker being present in him, it is because he mention in the Daily Task Episode that "he just stops being afraid in the monster the lurks in them" (his dreams). Perhaps he don't view them as dreams anymore and he as aware that he have another presence/persona in a different time.
That being said, Dr. Zayne might also be aware of Foreseer and Master of Fate causing him to almost always speaks so formally and in 3rd person speech.
Dr. Zayne might also be aware of the killing Dawnbreaker needs to do to people that turns to wanderers. And this might also explain his needs to always save lives not just M/C. Dr. Zayne might be trying to save lives to compensate to the life lost on Dawnbreaker's hands. Oh no I am so so sad about this.
And the finally, Dr. Zayne might also be aware that Dawnbreaker does not have his version of M/C in his timeline. Since (delulu) he comes to terms that they are the same person on a different timeline, he is willing to share his happiness to his other self. And that happiness is M/C. This might also explain the touchiness and neediness from Zayne, cause they are 2 people longing for her.
Final Thoughts. It must really be twisted to have them at the same time. No pun intended. But if Dr. Zayne and Dawnbreaker is indeed present at that exact time, I really don't mind. I'll take any version of Zayne anytime. He have done so much for us and if I'm making him more happy by celebrating the day with both of them, I will gladly do so. Might it be Dr. Zayne or Dawnbreaker, they deserve all the happiness in the world.
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vintagetvstars · 6 months ago
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Terry Jones Vs. Alan Alda
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Propaganda
Terry Jones - (Monty Python's Flying Circus, Do Not Adjust Your Set) - I wish I could tell you all in a few sentences just how handsome, funny, intelligent, kind and soft-spoken Terry Jones was. How passionate he was about the things he loved, lacing his interests (like e.g. history) throughout all the projects he was working on. How he was supposedly always laughing and giggling when writing and reading out sketches. How he admired the art of silent movies/Buster Keaton and was obsessed with writing poems as a child. How he was described as a wonderful friend and a little as if he carried his own world around with him. But there is simply too much to tell and I adore him too much to pick the best facts, so this will have to do
Alan Alda - (M*A*S*H) - He is both the saddest wettest little meow meow and your kindly grandfather and your favourite eccentric uncle (mom's side). Somehow it works. Passionate Democrat, feminist, great writer, he and his books are hilarious. Did a cartwheel when he won an Emmy! How he met his wife is the best meet cute of the last two centuries, and they've now been married over 60 years!!!
Master Poll List | How to submit propaganda | What is vintage? (FAQ)
Additional propaganda below the cut
Alan Alda:
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he’s just so good in MASH
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he put so much bisexuality into hawkeye i think it fundamentally changed me when i was little and watching mash for the first time. anyway do we all know the story about how he met his wife when they were at a party together and they were the only two people eating the cake that fell on the floor and he fell in love with her over her laugh. i just think hes neat :) i love when theres a strange looking man. also feel it necessary to say that the guy that wrote the book mash was based on wrote himself as hawkeye and HATED alda's hawkeye bc he displayed his morals too much (alda had it in his contract for the show that every episode had to have an operating room scene bc otherwise you arent backdropping the fact that war is Not fun. actually. he almost didnt take the role bc he thought a war comedy would make too much light of the horrors)
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please please please use this picture of him, he's so hot in it
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His comedic delivery in MASH...
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The story of how he met his wife is charming and sweet, and they've now been married 65 years
Just look at him. He's the most beautiful man I've ever seen but also he's completely average. He's got a weak jawlines and a round face and these big soft eyes and he's just so beautiful. He's capable of playing a silly charismatic sitcom protagonist in one scene, and a jaded army surgeon haunted by the deaths he's witnessed in the next. He's so hot that my dad once told me he decided to apply to medical school because of how much he was attracted to Hawkeye Pierce. That's literally how I learned that my father was bisexual.
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He's also just a really great dude? He's been outspoken about his political beliefs for a long time, and has always been strongly and vocally anti-war, pro-feminist, and pro lgbt. He served a tour in the Korean war, and his experiences there informed his performance in the show. He (and honestly the entire cast, but especially him) really just soared above and beyond the standard for comedies of the day.
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He's so funny and his eyes are pretty
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He loves and is a champion of science (Source).
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stxrvel · 1 year ago
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i don't wanna live forever (5)
summary: the time had come to destroy HYDRA and collect for all that had been taken from them...
pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader
words: 6k
warnings: descriptions of: blood, wounds, fights and weapons. probably gonna wake a lot of sadness since the begining. mentiones of suicide thoughts. heartbreak. stubborn characters. mentions of character deaths (canon). remember i'm not that good at writing action scenes and that English is not my first language!
note: hi guys! i didn't rest today at work. instead, i wrote 6k words for my actual hyperfixation and i'm actually exhausted. sometimes i write first in spanish and then in english, when my head is not up for the double translate, and leave the conversion to future me. this is future me talking and i hate myself for that. but i'm kind of proud how this one came out, so i hope you guys like it the same! feedback and reactions are always appreciated! see u guys next time &lt;3
part 1
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It was already getting dark when the small cellar you were in with your friends filled with applause and singing, a joy bouncing off the walls as you walked in Steve's direction with a grin from ear to ear. Your blond friend watched the small cake Peggy had gotten him that afternoon head towards him between your hands, setting it down on an upturned wooden barrel, a little damp, that they would use as a table.
Peggy and Bucky were off to the side, their faces matching your excitement as Steve reached down and shook his head.
“I don't even want to imagine how you got that cake in,” was the first thing Steve said when the happy birthday song ended, shooting you a grateful look. His eyes sparkled like you hadn't seen in many days and you felt Peggy's squeeze on your forearm as she came over to form a little circle just like Bucky.
“Trust me, you don't want to know,” Peggy shook her head, her smile matching the blond's.
You watched Steve split a piece of the cake with a spoon you had no idea where Peggy had gotten it from, your friend bursting out laughing when Steve raised his head and she smeared white cream all over his nose. At that moment you felt Bucky's body heat behind you, all your senses turning on at once.
“No candle, but you can make a wish before you take the first bite.”
Steve shared a look with his friend, still with that twinkle in his eye and the most relaxed expression he'd had in days. He was still wearing his uniform, having caught him by surprise to bring him into the warehouse after a long day of planning strategies for the next mission against HYDRA. You and Peggy had been thinking for several days about doing something, and being that it was rather difficult to throw a small party in the camp you were in, you decided to opt for something a little more ordinary and familiar. You couldn't say, however, that Steve didn't like it, not when you saw him smiling at everyone so openly, shoulders down and spreading laughter to everyone around him.
With the spoon halfway to his mouth, Steve closed his eyes and made a wish.
You smiled indulgently, watching two of your friends share a small moment as Steve took some more cake to give Peggy. With your hands behind your back, you suddenly felt Bucky's left hand make its way through your fingers, intertwining your hands very carefully.
“How's the taste?”
Steve shook his head nodding at your words, his brow furrowing in pleasure as he enjoyed the large bites he was taking of the cake. At that moment, all you could think about was how much you would sacrifice to stay in that bubble forever, even without knowing what was coming next.
-
“Are you okay?”
You heard his footsteps before you saw him, his body leaning against the second to last step where you had sat and turned away from the others. The routine you had had to get used to over the past few months, after believing you were going to change the world, had become a constant burden that was hard to shake off. Still, you took and cherished moments like those when you could go out and sit and just watch the vast sky stretching for miles. The stars shone so brightly there, in the middle of the forest, that they seemed like little beacons seeking to guide you to a better future; perhaps to a future that you did deserve. Steve also sometimes accompanied you in silence, having learned that he couldn't always argue with you about the meaning of life and the purpose for which you two had to carry out the unjust orders of superiors. You once saw one of his drawings, a woman sitting at the top of a flight of stairs and a starry night giving her a message of hope. Maybe he saw it the same way too after a while.
“Yeah,” you replied to Bucky with a tight-lipped little smile.
Bucky didn't know much about you now. As the weeks went by you realized it was true what he had once told you, when the America's couple shows and his platoon's stay coincided for the first time in months. You had changed a lot since the serum injection. And, well, who wouldn't, after all? That's why when you were together after so long he spent time very close to you, very aware of you, checking with his excellent senses that nothing was out of place. That you were okay.
You didn't know if he had believed you, by the way his face remained expressionless, barely a slight twitch of his eyebrows, but he didn't repeat the question.
“Do you think there's anything else for us, besides this?”
Bucky turned his gaze to look at the sky and you watched his profile, the curve of his eyelashes and his half-opened lips. Situations like that had become commonplace, too. Since you no longer spent so much time together and you had changed so much because somehow you had to adapt to the harsh reality against which you had crashed, Bucky constantly wondered many things about life that ended up being his own fears materialized in existential crises. For him his world was shaking. Since you told him that you had been invited to the Super Soldier project with Steve, everything had become uncertainty for him. Uncertainty about his life, about your life, about the life you wanted to have together, uncertainty about the future, uncertainty about life.
You had the conception that Bucky could never fully adapt to the abrupt change that meant his two best friends were involved in a private experiment that gave them heightened senses and more strength and speed than an average human. Now he seemed to looked at himself like the mere mortal who walked shoulder to shoulder with two gods. He seemed to feel that death would knock faster at his door and it drove him mad.
“Yeah, I don't think this is it,” you shook your head in assent, watching out of the corner of your eye as Bucky rested his forearms on his knees and leaned forward a bit. His hands interlocked and parted, his fingertips met and parted, his fists opened and closed.
“But you'll outlive me,” Bucky looked down, his blue eyes glittering focused on yours under the moonlight. You could barely hear movement in the back of the hold where Peggy and Steve were still talking. Your heart flipped at the vulnerability you saw through his eyes, lately more common than you'd like. You didn't like not being able to quell those thoughts that dominated his head; the insecurities and fears that made him doubt so many things in the middle of the night.
“We'd live the same amount of time,” you assured him shaking your head, your own mind refusing to accept that Bucky's fears could take more power over him. Whatever you could do to calm him, you would do, always.
“You have the serum. You and Steve will live for many more years. Hell, maybe you'll even be immortals,” Bucky tried to smile, but a grimace settled on his face and made his words bitter. He was subtly trying to untwist his shoulders, barely moving to your side trying not to show too much that he was kind of nervous.
“Why are you telling me that now?” you shifted on the wooden step, moving a little closer towards him. Bucky tensed visibly, not because of the closeness, but because he knew the moment was coming when you would stop following his lead and start asking him what was really plaguing his mind. For some reason, Bucky couldn't approach those topics of conversation naturally, letting his mind and words wander a bit before daring to take his fears by the horns.
“I don't know… I guess. It's a truth I have to accept,” he confessed, his voice so fragile and soft that had it not been for the extreme hearing the serum had granted you, you surely wouldn't have understood him. You felt your heart crumple and moved your hand from your lap to cradle his hands that he still could not let still.
“But it is a truth that is still a long way from being fulfilled.”
“And first we have to get through the war,” Bucky turned his hands to lace them with yours, his fingers intertwining with yours and giving them a squeeze.
“We will. I have no doubt about it. In fact, I have a plan to persuade Phillips,” you smiled at him trying to lighten the weight on his shoulders a bit.
Little surprised, Bucky let out a laugh, his free shoulders shaking in sync with his chest. A beautiful smile spread across his face, and you would've enjoyed it except you could still notice his tired eyes and the dark traces beneath them. It seemed that the moonlight intensified the reality of his emotions.
“You always have a plan for everything.”
“What can I say? I'm an optimist,” you lifted your shoulders, leaning against Bucky's side. His head dropped to rest on the crown of your head, his breathing synchronizing with yours for a moment.
“Between the two of us, you definitely are,” he murmured, taking a deep breath, enjoying the moment for several seconds. “Sorry for… coming to bring up those topics of conversation.”
“No, it's okay. I like to listen. And you tend to do that sometimes,” you shook your head over his shoulder trying to dispel the topic, Bucky's hands tightening around yours.
“What?”
“You suddenly talk about things you don't want to tell me too much about and then put a little light-hearted attitude on it so it doesn't sound so serious.”
Bucky lifted his head, causing you to move in time to meet his surprised expression as well. His lips were trying to twitch into a smile, but he didn't seem to know if he wanted to laugh or frown.
“Do I really do it that often?”
“A little, yes.”
“Ah, I'm pretty bad at dissembling I guess,” Bucky looked up, finally succumbing to the smile. The gesture satisfied you enough to delve into the emotion with him, taking a moment to further enjoy that scenario you could no longer be a part of lately; to enjoy those everyday moments where you could feel love materially spark around you, as if it was a novel written solely to satisfy human romantic desires and whims.
You shook your head, returning to the subject.
“But you don't have to worry about my supposed immortality. I know we'll live the same,” you assured him once more, your arms wrapping around his right arm and squeezing it securely, hugging him, trying to send him some of the confidence you felt inside.
“How are you so sure?”
The truth was, you weren't, but you couldn't let him know that, much less let him know that you didn't expect his life expectancy to be as extensive as yours was now either. But how were you going to tell him that? He must've been martyred enough by his own thoughts during every moment of the day when they drowned him, and it wasn't as if you expected too much of a life after him either. You could have immortality served on a silver platter, but what would be the point if you had to spend it on your own? Bucky was thinking about not wanting to leave you alone, and you were thinking about the impossibility of finding a reason to live after him.
“Because I know I don't want to live forever if I'm not with you.”
Bucky stopped his light, ghost-like caresses on your fingers. He turned his face to look at you, his nostalgic expression disappearing in a matter of seconds. His blue eyes looked contrite, as if there was a storm inside them. You had never hesitated in your answer, no matter when he had asked. And yet you seemed to have taken him by surprise; it seemed that such a thing would never have crossed his mind even by accident.
“Y/N…”
“I'd be living in vain. Stolen time,” you shook your head, averting your gaze from the depths of his, an unknown kind of longing or fear furrowing across his features that you couldn't bear to see a second longer. You were there at that moment and you would see each other again later, why did you have to think about it too much?
Bucky sighed. Only when you felt his body relax against your side did you know he understood that it would do no good for him to try to antagonize you.
“Still, you deserve a life like this. After all you've been through,” his voice was barely a whisper that tore through the silent chill that surrounded you, but the implication of his words furrowed against your chest like a dagger. You shook your head before the memories could reach you.
“We all deserve it, especially in this world consumed by the greed of power and hatred.”
You saw him nod out of the corner of your eye, his hands wrapping around one of your hands, the one closest to his side and bringing it up to his lips to kiss your knuckles. His eyes were fixed on your profile, you could feel it, but you were afraid to turn to look at him and allow your emotions to come out. You were too sweet to succumb to strong feelings when you were with Bucky.
“Hey!” was Steve's voice, like a beacon in the middle of the ocean, making you both turn at the same time. “Peggy's just leaving.”
“Want a ride, Barnes?”
“Ah, it would be my pleasure, Agent Carter.”
Peggy moved, after saying goodbye to Steve and you, and walked in the direction of the huge forest that stretched into the distance where she had parked her car. Or Howard's car, you couldn't quite make out through the darkness.
“See you later, Miss I-don't-want-to-live-forever,” Bucky approached you with a half smile, having said goodbye to Steve, meeting him halfway to melt you in his arms. The tension in your shoulders eased considerably, a sigh making its way into your chest.
“Take care, Bucky,” you squeezed his waist, because you weren't tall enough to reach his shoulders in a hug, and he squeezed you back in response.
“Sure thing. I got to see my girl again, after all.”
You laughed between the hollow of his neck and shoulder, feeling your cheeks burn. Bucky broke away just barely to look at you with his own huge grin.
“Don't overdo it, Barnes.”
“Come on!” Peggy insisted, glancing at the watch on her wrist.
You broke away from Bucky, trying to push him to get into the car with his affianced friend, but he had other plans. In the midst of your struggle to push him away, he grabbed one of your wrists, using very little force to pull you close to his chest, his lips crashing against yours in a fleeting action, but not at all rough, barely a brush. Before you knew what happened he had already pulled away from you.
“When I get back, we have a lot to talk about.”
He never came back. He left in the next couple of days for the mission on the train and all you got back was a shattered Steve, his face dirty and sticky from all the tears he'd shed, his pleading eyes crystallizing on you the moment he had to tell you that Bucky had died. You could still remember how his voice cracked as he begged your forgiveness, repeating it over and over as if it would ease the burden he felt on his shoulders, the guilt for not being able to get him in time. You never blamed Steve for what happened, but it seemed like he did for a long time.
Reliving those memories was always a constant martyrdom. After Bucky's funeral you didn't think you could move on, but carrying all his pain in a sack of rocks, Steve assured you that they would avenge the reason Bucky had died. HYDRA. So you did and were able to carry on for a while until Steve was also declared KIA.
Peggy and Howard were a great help when you realized that you couldn't die on your own, because you healed faster than normal and could spend more time than humanly possible underwater. To say that you didn't try to leave the earthly world would be a lie, but your friends tried to help you in every way they could until you had to leave the United States. When you thought you would have to spend years hiding in Europe, Howard told you that wasn't necessary. Just staying under the radar and out of the feds' jurisdiction would be fine and he would take care of it. And one day, after spending a week in the apartment you were renting without getting out of bed for almost any reason, a knock on the door startled you.
“Correspondence,” rang through the silence of the apartment.
You only got up because you knew the mailman was wrong. You had given your address to absolutely no one and there was no way any person knew of your existence in that country. You thought you took pity on the man, when he handed you the letter and it did indeed have your name on it.
It was an acceptance letter from some university. Apparently you had enrolled to study mathematics.
You had a suspicion of what was going on, but something in your chest asked you to ignore it. The letter asked for an interview before classes started in exactly three days, and after that interview you received a letter from Peggy.
When Howard died you knew you couldn't go back to Europe. Largely because you had to find out who his killer was, but also because you wanted to watch over Peggy's life as you couldn't do for your other three friends. You were often terrified for your friend's life, especially having the job she had and dealing with all those powerful people who wouldn't hesitate for the blink of an eye to order her death.
Steve was right. You stayed with Peggy to investigate Howard's death. But you also stayed because she was the only thing you had left and you had to take care of her; you had to preserve her, to do everything you could to prevent another tragic and unnecessary death. You would've sacrificed anything in life just to allow Peggy to have the life she deserved. And so you did. You cared for her for many years, you were so attentive to her that her children called you aunt and then her grandchildren called you grandma; you were at all her family gatherings, giving gifts to her children at Christmas and celebrating each new year as you watched time pass through her eyes. Every January 1st you saw it as a win, a whole year in which so much sacrifice had been worth it.
Now… well, now everything was a bit more complicated.
Natasha had left the abandoned dam first after going over the plan one last time. You were supposed to go with Steve and Sam, even though Steve was reluctant to have you near the Winter Soldier again, as if you didn't have the same strength and agility as he did. Of course, his fear was rooted in something completely different than that, something he and Natasha had discovered with Zola.
“HYDRA spent years searching for you to recreate the super-soldier serum after the war. If not for the excellent work Peggy and Howard did, they probably would've found you more easily.”
Now, having such a palpable possibility of destroying HYDRA, you didn't think there was the slightest chance that they were still thinking about it, although Natasha stressed that it seemed to be that the soldier had two different missions when he found them in the middle of the city, one of them being that he was to keep you alive. Zhivoy, you recalled bitterly. Alive.
Steve didn't want to risk finding something else waiting for them when they reached the helicarriers, something that might lead you away from him. And yes, you understood his concern because it was the same one you'd felt for years and was more latent recently since Steve returned. But you weren't going to stand by like a fucking statue while they did all the work. You would take it upon yourself to destroy HYDRA completely and deprive them of any chance they might have to get close to Steve, you or Bucky again. Whatever you had to do, you'd do it.
“He's not the same,” you had told Steve, as you walked to the Triskelion in the company of Sam and Maria.
“But he'll remember us,” Steve assured, his hand tightly gripping the strap with which he held the shield. Steve had been repeating that to himself all day, even in front of Sam. You couldn't believe you were the one trying to maintain an objective demeanor in that situation.
“Yeah, maybe at some point. But right now it's not him, Steve,” you turned to look at him, his face fixed on the expanse of water surrounding the large building he used to work for. “He's not the Bucky we knew.”
Steve looked back at you, pausing for a moment. You knew he was mindful of it, you knew Steve was aware of how dangerous he was now; that there was a good chance he really didn't remember them and you wanted to make sure that wouldn't cloud his judgment; that he would still fight for his life.
But the resolve in his eyes didn't convince you. His lack of response fanned a hollow in your chest, your hands breaking out in a cold sweat as you stared at the empty space he left in front of you.
Steve was willing to bring him back and you were afraid of losing him.
For some reason, you felt it had to be different.
-
You heard Steve's voice over the speakers, running so you could find the helicarriers exit before they took off. Steve and Sam were supposed to meet you halfway, but you were already halfway there, fighting off a few agents, and you still didn't hear them nearby. Your breath caught in your throat as one of the STRIKE agents grabbed you by the throat while another plunged an electric baton into your side, the sensation of volts coursing through your entire nervous system sending you into a momentary state of shock.
You dropped your hands to stop struggling with the agent behind you and grabbed the wrist holding the baton with an overly strong grip, snapping the bone in place and jerking your head to strike the face of the man behind you as his grip wobbled for a second. Both agents fell to the ground, two bones broken in less than a minute. You grabbed the baton before departing, hitting them both in the head barely using half your strength, knocking them unconscious instantly.
As you exited the Triskelion facility to meet the gap you would have to jump over to intercept the first helicarrier, you heard Steve and Sam's voices closer. Oh, right, you forgot to use the communicator.
“Where were you?” Steve exclaimed, running alongside Sam closer to the chasm.
“You've got blood on your neck,” Sam pointed out, before spreading his metal wings and flying off into the sky.
“Put on your communicator,” Steve asked you just before you both jumped at the same time, a feeling of emptiness planting itself in the pit of your stomach.
You landed with your legs bent and leaned forward for a spin before getting up and continuing to run alongside Steve. You rummaged in one of your pants pockets, praying that the small devices hadn't been shattered during the fights you had inside the Triskelion.
Only one was spared.
Steve barely sent you a reproachful glance, shaking his head, as you approached a horde of HYDRA agents. You barely finished putting the small communicator to your ear when the hail of bullets came in their direction. Steve grabbed your arm to pull you behind his shield until he managed to hide behind two large containers. The fight was immediate.
The group of agents split up and you jumped right in front of two of them, sliding on the ground to use the baton from below to disarm them. You knocked one of them out with the high volts of the baton and the other tried to stab you from behind, but you stopped his hand midway and flipped his arm over, a shriek of pain escaping him as his shoulder dislocated. The man fell to his knees and, lifting one leg, you half-turned to strike his face with your full tibia.
“Cap, I found the bad guys you were talking about,” you heard Sam's voice, noting that, although that communicator was working, the voice you perceived sounded distant.
“Are you okay?” you heard Steve, as he came closer and you stepped on the handle of the staff, lifting it in a single stroke so that it landed in your hand.
“Not dead yet.”
Steve nodded, though he knew Sam couldn't see him and gave you a questioning look.
“Works?” he pointed to your ear, starting to pace.
“A little bruised, but does the job.”
Your friend shook his head, starting to run inside the helicarrier.
“Cap?” you smirked.
“Don't start,” the blond spoke through his teeth, moving toward his target. “Report location.”
You nodded in his direction, heading for the first agents who appeared to obstruct his path, clearing Steve's way in the direction of the helicarrier hub.
When you were done with the agents and Steve was finally able to enter the control center, you turned your attention to the voices ringing through the communicator.
“Ah, shit,” was Sam's voice, and the next thing you heard was gunfire around the helicarrier next to it.
“Fine, but you're going with me. I don't want to let you out of my sight,” Steve had said a few hours before they left the dam, leaving no room for argument in his haughty voice.
“That's unnecessary, Steve. We'd waste too much time,” you shook your head, trying to match his stoic, stern expression.
“She's right,” Maria nodded in your direction. “There are three helicarriers and three of you.”
“No,” Steve began to rise, your eyes following the movement of his body and his blue eyes fixed on yours. “Fury delegated orders to me, and that's an order.”
You indulged Steve until you lost sight of him, understanding he had said that out of pent-up fear. You grabbed one of the weapons that had been left on the ground and passed the strap over your head. The third helicarrier was a considerable distance away at a jump. You had to pick up too much speed to even make it to the tip, but you weren't going to stand there waiting for Steve when you could be doing something more; something necessary.
So that's what you did. Steve still hadn't reported state when you started running from tip to tip, your steps getting bigger with every second until you reached the gap and picked up momentum at the tip. That was insane. You felt the emptiness in your stomach again and out of the corner of your eye you could see a couple of explosions occurring in the harbor where the helicarriers had departed from. You stretched your arms out, counting on having propelled your body far enough, fearing a deadly fall as the other edge began to look higher and higher.
“Y/N, status,” you heard Hill, your heart in your mouth.
Your mind went blank for a second, when in the midst of the adrenaline you almost didn't even feel the moment when your left hand gripped the edge of the helicarrier tightly, the aircraft moving a little farther with each passing second. You had jumped at just the right moment.
Breathing hard, you propelled yourself upward until you could plant your feet back on the runway floor and replied to Maria, “Waiting.”
Steve must've thought you were still on the helicarrier with him.
As you ran, Sam reported that he had intercepted the second helicarrier after Steve, barely recognizing their voices amidst the tussle you were having with the agents who had appeared before you could reach the control room door.
“Y/N, where are you?” the voice of Steve came over the comm, a few minutes after you took down the last agent, moving in the direction of the metal door. You felt heavily for the programming card you had taken from Steve when he had pulled you close to get behind his shield, as you heard him ask Sam if he could see you.
You were about to reach the door when the scenery abruptly changed, a body appearing out of nowhere colliding into your left side sending you crashing to the ground hard.
“Shit.”
“Y/N?”
You ignored Steve's voice, moving to push off the heavy body on top of yours. Amidst the struggle you crawled away across the floor, a hand clutching at your ankle before you could move any further.
You recognized him by the coldness that ran through your body at the contact. You could almost be sure it had burned you.
This time he wasn't wearing the mask, those blue eyes boring deep into your head, the angry expression very different from how you had seen him last time. Although you would've liked to stay longer just watching, after spending so many years suffering his death, you pulled the leg he had held captive and tried to hit him in the face, his metal arm moving faster neutralizing the hit.
At that moment you stood up arching your back, planting your feet hard and running towards the soldier before he could catch you off guard.
You tried to strike his face, but he nimbly dodged every blow, just as you dodged his. He let out a grunt of frustration as you sent him to the ground with a kick to the chest, pulling a weapon from his side that he didn't hesitate a second to point in your direction. Feeling the air caught in your throat, you moved quickly on the ground, trying to escape his bullets while managing to find a place to hide.
You heard his footsteps approaching, as you hid behind a container, stopping just on the other side, and you moved to the right side of the container when you knew he was going to jump out and surprise you from above.
His body froze for a second, which you took advantage of to jump over the dumpster and grab him from behind, the baton you had on your belt wrapped around his neck, cutting off his breathing. You tried to hold him tight as he tried to push away your grip with his metal arm, almost as strong as your push to keep him in place.
The soldier began to slow his movements, but if you hadn't been so torn between he's the Winter Soldier and he's Bucky, you would've noticed one of his hands move over his vest, grabbing the handle of a knife and burying it in your right leg hard, all the way in, causing you to gasp.
Clearly your grip wobbled, the soldier taking possession of your staff and turning around as he pulled the blade out of your leg to direct his foot towards your chest, pushing you back to the ground where you fell with a loud thud.
The wound was deep. You could feel and hear the blood pouring out of it, but you didn't just stand there as you saw him leap down from the container, raising his arms to parry his attack as he directed the knife towards your face. His face contorted and scrunched up in concentration was all you could focus on, remembering that you couldn't let him win, but you also couldn't hurt him like he wanted to hurt you. You had to be objective, yes, but the thought of hurting him once more was heartbreaking.
You struggled with his hand until he let go of the knife, using your strength and trying to ignore the sharp pain in your leg from the effort to push him to the ground beside you with your hand on his neck and your leg around his waist, lying on top of him with one leg on each side.
At that moment, as you tried to keep your arm over his neck and he tried to weaken you by hitting your sides, you heard Steve and Sam's voices again. A small panic ran through your body which was enough for the soldier to push your arm away, grabbing you by the neck with his metal arm and bringing a gun close to your face as he rose up, taking you with him, until he slammed you into a wall with great force.
You raised your hand between your bodies to move the tip of the gun, the shot falling a short distance above your head, your exorbitant eyes watching his furious expression. His metal hand closed tighter and tighter around your neck, your breath hitching, but you didn't relinquish your grip on the hand still holding the gun.
In the midst of the struggle, you brought your knee up to strike his crotch. The soldier jerked away, a whimper dying in his mouth as you moved toward him again, pushing his arm away as he pointed the gun at you again and the shot landed somewhere behind you again.
You hit him in the face with your own head, one of your hands holding his right arm with the gun and the other trying to keep his metal arm that held the knife dripping with your blood at bay. You hit him full in the nose again, but even though the blood was starting to drip down, the soldier didn't budge one bit.
“Go!” you shouted to Steve and Sam, the soldier averting his attention for a tiny moment before struggling against your grip again.
You had to break free somehow to get the card to Steve. Your body began to give way with the soldier's thrust, your boots sliding on the floor like it was marble. The soldier began to close his arms and you tried to match his strength, but the blood leaking from the wound in your leg was slowly weakening you. And it was a vibranium knife again.
Suddenly you noticed Steve running towards you, the fleeting glance costing you restraint, as the soldier raised your arms and turned you roughly, his back crashing against your chest and his metal hand burying in your chest the knife hard, moving it from side to side as he did that cold night in Siberia.
In the midst of the pain and weakness from the blood loss, you laid your head on his shoulder, the adrenaline slowly draining from your body.
“Bucky,” you whispered like a prayer, your strangled voice barely making its way out of your mouth and the soldier tensing behind you. The struggling stopped for a second.
Then his body heat disappeared. Steve must've reached and tackled the soldier without missing a beat.
“Hey, hey,” you heard Sam approaching you, kneeling beside you and taking your hand that wanted to pull the knife out of your chest. Right through the center, near the heart. That pain was no match for the disappointment that was tearing you apart inside. Maybe that time you could actually die. “Don't touch that.”
“Give the card to Steve…” you barely muttered breathlessly, one of your hands moving to pull the card out of one of your lower pants pockets. “Run.”
Sam hesitated for a few seconds, looking between your knife and the fight that was still picking up steam in the background, until he clicked his tongue and stood up.
“Don't take that knife out!”
You saw him run in the direction of Steve and the soldier, his metal wings rising in the midst of the struggle. Steve and Sam began to get the upper hand, and at some point, Steve took off in the direction of the helicarrier control center.
You dropped to the ground, watching helplessly as the soldier overpowered Sam, dislodging his wings with the force of his metal arm. The pain was too much, but Sam was completely helpless. No matter how much training he might've had, fighting the Winter Soldier was disproportionate.
So in a matter of seconds you stood up, grasping between gasps the handle of the knife and pulling it out of your chest without a second thought.
The electric current of pain that coursed through your body was unbearable, feeling as if the hollowness you constantly felt in your chest from emotions had suddenly materialized, a constant pang that coursed through you from head to toe at every microsecond, with every movement. Sam didn't even have time to react when you grabbed the soldier by the throat, burying the knife in his leg and trying to wave him off.
You could consider yourself well served if at that moment that was your death.
The soldier grabbed the arm around your neck and leaned forward, lifting you up and flipping you over onto your back, falling hard and painfully to the ground. You looked at the knife in his leg before looking at his face again. He had a couple of cuts, his expression still angry, but he seemed to hesitate as he pulled the knife out like it was nothing and watched you lying on the ground, completely at his mercy.
His hesitation brought unease to your chest.
“Bucky,” you called again, tears welling in your eyes.
The soldier only frowned, his anger momentarily fading until he seemed to remember something.
He turned to look at the control center. Before running off, he sent you another disgruntled look, just like that time on the road.
Whatever had happened after that, death or not, was extremely painful.
-
tag: @samodivaa @rubyxx16
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the-bitterest-breakups-poll · 6 months ago
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Poll: Round 1c #2
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[Image ID. And image of Eddie and Shannon from 9-1-1 sitting together. Shannon is on the left and Eddie is on the right. And an image of The Locked Tomb books covered edited together. End ID]
*Reminder that Break up is being used loosely here and not all relationships may be romantic in nature
Propaganda under cut"
Eddie and Shannon:
They only got married because she was pregnant and he booked it to Afghanistan to financially support her without having to actually face his relationship fears (breakup 1, while they're not only dating but married), he comes back for their kid's birth and immediately re-ups, now also because of his fears about fatherhood (breakup 2, married with newborn), and leaves his wife with his controlling parents and mom with cancer who lives states away as her only support system. gets shot, comes home, can't handle his controlling parents on top of his PTSD, which, newsflash, neither can she, so when he says they can't move to take care of her now dying mom, she up and leaves in the middle of the night (breakup 3, girl power). his parents are awful about her and try to take custody of his disabled son, so he books it to the state his wife lives in to preserve both their autonomy and what's left of their family unit but does not contact her until a school with stellar supports for his son needs to interview her because they're not actually divorced and then they start fucking in secret (messy!! Messy, messy, MESSY!!!). He lets her back into their son's life for Christmas, they're technically back together, they have a pregnancy scare but it's fine, he proposes again (while comparing their relationship to being drowned) and she asks for a divorce (breakup 4) and then gets hit by a car in an intersection and dies on the scene (breakup 5, actual end of relationship). Her last words are about how she was leaving their son again. THERE IS NO GREATER MESS THIS SHIT IS BAKED ON CAKED ON NO AMOUNT OF PINK GOO CAN GET IT OFF
They got together in high school then got married because she was pregnant. After they were married he joined the military and went to Afghanistan (ostensibly to provide for their family but by his own admission because he wanted to get away), at one point re-enlisting against her wishes. When he did come back (only after being injured), SHE left to take care of her terminally ill mother and didn't come back for over a year, at which point she and Eddie began to sleep together again, but he initially kept her hidden from their son because he didn't trust her. He refused to even discuss this with her until she publicly confronted him at work. He does let her around their son again, but the only time we see Shannon and Eddie together again, they're fighting. They later have a pregnancy scare, which prompts him to "re-propose" to her. She instead FINALLY asks for a divorce. And then she gets hit by a car and dies for some reason. I realize this is more of a messy marriage than a messy breakup but personally I think their whole relationship was just a messy breakup in slow motion.
Mercymorn the First/Augustine the First/Emperor John Gaius:
-M-- and A-- were John's closest companions before the apocalypse, then they were killed by a bunch of cultists who betrayed him, then he STARTED A NUCLEAR WAR AND KILLED ALL LIFE IN THE SOLAR SYSTEM just because he was mad some trillionares manipulated everyone, then he brought them back to life but with new names and their memories erased to be his disciples because he didn't think they would agree with his actions, then eventually he had them kill the other most important people in their lives to gain immortality and also more attention for him, thousands of years later they have a threesome and steal his sperm to give it to a terrorist leader (who's in a different threesome) to make a baby to kill and use as a bomb, then 20 years later the threesome returns as a distraction so a lobotomized teen can kill their coworker, then eventually he finds out they betrayed him, Mercymorn kills him but he comes back immediately and kills her, then he turns around and offers Augustine complete forgiveness despite also trying to kill him, Augustine refuses and throws the whole space station into a metaphysical river to trap John/"god" in Hell, but his apprentice saves John instead of him so he goes to Hell instead, then John is a wreck, leaves basically an evil child in charge of his empire, and sleeps around with his army for presumably a whole book
Okay SO. buckle up. (Also, HUGE TLT SPOILERS AHEAD.) John Gaius is god. Mercy and Augustine are 2/3 of his remaining saints. They have a terrible, millennia-long polycule (that at one point resulted in Mercy and Augustine stealing God’s jizz to try and kill him—that’s off topic tho.) Mercy and Augustine eventually attempt to kill him again after learning he tricked them into killing their best friends ten thousand years ago. And they all try to kill each other : )
John Gaius is God, and Mercymorn and Augustine are the first and second of his Saints. They're intensely close. Like, they've been together for ten thousand years, they've had at least one threesome, and they were best friends in their previous lives before that. The thing is, Mercy and Augustine sort of suspect that John is lying to them, so they hatch a plan to figure out what he's not telling them. Which turns out to be a LOT. They try to kill him, he kills them instead, and then he spends the whole next book in a dramatic depressive spiral, neglecting his Empire and sleeping with pretty much his entire senior staff. Personally I suspect Augustine and Mercy were 80% of his impulse control, and without them John plans to destroy the solar system and start over from square one.
- (this propaganda is only for John Gaius and Mercymorn the First) Messy quite literally because she atomises him, then he puts himself back together and (again, LITERALLY) rips out her heart.
Also emotionally messy on the basis that this breakup has actually been going on for at LEAST twenty years, and involved two separate threesomes which were actually ploys to a) steal John's sperm and b) distract him from the murder of his best friend.
Important information to note for those who have not read TLT: in killing John, Mercymorn fully believes that the sun will explode and the entire solar system will be destroyed. She ain't afraid of collateral damage in HER breakup.
In terms of relationship categorisation? Who's to say. They're friends they're lovers he's literally her God he wiped her memory and he's been lying to her for ten thousand years it's a whole thing.
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thecloudstan · 12 days ago
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I want to draw a short comic about a birthday party for Rufus this year but we have no information about his date of birth :(((((
So if it's OK, I would like to read a short story about our dear president's birthday with the Turks, Darkstar and Cloud too ofc 🥰
And if you don't mind, may I draw a short comic based on that story?
I don't mind at all!! Because Advent Children era is when my brain works most flexibly with them, this little moment slots into the NTYC timeline rather nicely. So it could be anytime between chapter 6ish and chapter 15ish. Due to this, I couldn't work in Darkstar, though. But please feel free to add the lil beastie into whatever art you decide to do (if you indeed decide to do it). She can be lying protectively at Rufus' feet in spirit for the story but for real in the comic (you could even just take this scenario and make it OG/Remake timeline if you want, 100% up to you and I will be happy with anything)! 😂 Because formatting is being hateful, I'm putting the blurb below a Read More.
Enjoy!
Cloud slips his cell into his pocket after trudging up the steps at Healen and shooting a quick, curt text to Reno to let him know he's waiting outside. The invitation had been out of the blue and uncharacteristically vague. The boss wants you here, he'd said. Tseng??? Cloud fired back. No, not MY boss, THE boss. Don't play dumb today, pretty boy, just make the appointment, yeah? Cloud still isn't sure why he agreed, but as Reno opens the door and chaperones him to Rufus' very familiar quarters—babbling incessantly all the while—his nerves start to subside. He can hear voices beyond the door before Reno even cracks it open. Upon entering, the room is aglow with warm light and voices full of tempered excitement. All the Turks are here and accounted for; Elena and Tseng nurse drinks while chatting back and forth off to the left of the little center table, Rude arranges small, festive bags and packages atop the counter beside the mini fridge.
And there, sat at the table alone with a smile on his face and some tiny confection before him, is Rufus Shinra. He fixes Cloud in place with eyes partially squinted by the force of his grin, offering a little nod and wave of hello. "Anyway, go say hi to the birthday boy," Reno says, snapping Cloud out of his moment of wonderment at the scene in front of him. "Birthday?" Cloud grouses, looking at Reno with a little knit in his brow only after Rufus has broken their gaze to ask Rude for something. "You could've at least told me. I got nothin'." Cloud throws both arms out wide in a gesture that reveals just how empty handed he is. As usual, Reno shrugs off any accusations as he backs away from Cloud and toward his partner. "Don't worry, blondie, your presence is present enough, trust me!" With an undeserved snicker Reno turns to meet Rude at Rufus' side. Cloud watches them in the doorway for an awkward moment before summoning the wherewithal to move his feet. As he approaches the former President, the other two slink away to find themselves a drink. Upon closer inspection, Cloud can see that the confection is some kind of cake from an upscale bakery, all perfectly round and encased in what looks like a hard, white and brown candy coating. Probably white and dark chocolate, but he can't be certain.
"A nice surprise," that velvet voice pours out syrupy sweet, sweeter than any birthday cake could ever hope to be.
Cloud levels him with a heavy but almost apologetic gaze.
"Hm? Wish I knew ahead of time so I could've brought you something but I think some details got lost in the invitation..."
Rufus only smiles, stifles a laugh. It's hard to tell whether he knew Reno tracked him down, or if it was his idea to begin with. That's not surprising, though. "Would you like a taste?" he suddenly asks out of nowhere, gesturing to the cake on the table. Cloud ignores the baser meaning behind the question and leans over the table to get a good look at the cake, making a bit of a show of it. He's not a die hard lover of sweets, but it looks good enough. He does notice there isn't a single candle is in sight, though. Feigning contemplation, he folds his arms over his chest, rests his chin on a fist. "Before the birthday boy? Nah. Besides...your friends here seem to have forgotten the candles," he teases, only now realizing how much of their relationship has progressed without him even knowing Rufus' birthday. "How old are you turning, anyway?" Rufus again only reacts with the slightest curl to the corners of his lips before reaching a graceful hand forward. He lifts a heavy cake knife from beside the platter on which the fancy little dish sits. With deft and nimble fingers he cuts through, but pauses before completing the slice. "Wouldn't you like to know..."
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nightsinbluevelvet · 10 months ago
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Dear, my thirst was quenched after weeks and months when I saw Matt and Jonathan together today. How handsome they looked, did they not? I am so eager to hear what you thought of their interactions, their glances at the other and the way they seemed so close😘
Dear Anonymous, thank you for your message.
I'm still high on cloud nine from last night, and I suspect I will never shut up about the event, or our boys/men/babygirls/babyboys/angels/what even are they?? I will never get over Fellow Travelers, Hawk, Tim, Matt, Jonathan or any of it, and I wouldn't have it any other way.
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I didn't dare to dream we would see them like this again - happy to be together, both with arms around each other, Jonny even holding Matt's hand. Ahhhhhhhh!! They look so good together. None of the doubt and torture of the past months matters now, because they were home together. I'm more convinced than ever that their bond is rare, undeniable, eternal and unbreakable, and they will be like this even after outliving Hawk and Skippy.
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As for their looks, Matt's look wasn't my favourite ever (although it was amazing), and poor baby looked extremely sleep-deprived. But he looked genuinely happy, and that's all that matters. Jonny looked slutty as fuck in that sage green shirt + trousers and brown shoes + white socks outfit. His beauty was dazzling, and this was one of my favourite Jonny looks ever.
This video is everything! It's easily as good as the Maestro premiere videos. Seeing them this content and comfortable... I'm actually at a loss for words. If you look really closely, you can see that Jonny is stroking Matt's back again. I don't care what people say anymore, he is NOT like this with others. And Matt is so much more open than he's appeared to be recently. It's rare to see this kind of public display of affection from him - like when he smiles, gazes at Jonny and puts his arm even tighter around him. He also has this particular micro expression he does when Jonny looks at him, I've seen it before.
Then there's the sweet video of them walking away from the stage. I can't upload another video here so here's a gif of it
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I love how happy they look, and how Jonathan waits for a hug/touch from Matt, like he needs it.
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I'm so grateful that we got the Ron/Matt/Jonathan only combo yesterday. Ron is the one person who loves and misses Matt & Jonny even more than the fans do. He loves them so much that he started to cry when he talked about their zoom chemistry read.
And speaking of that, this is how Jonny and Matt looked at each other when Ron mentioned the chemistry read:
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The panel was incredible. I'm in awe of the three of them, and I wish I could thank them personally. They spoke so eloquently and passionately, and I think they gave an extremely good impression. Jonathan's dirty joke was the icing on the cake.
Favourite moments from the panel:
Jonny saying he feels it in his stomach, when he talks about watching the emotional clip they showed during the panel. He says there's a real emotion that has not left him, that is still present. How they've had six months to get on with their lives and try to say goodbye to the characters, but so many people are talking to him about FT, even crying, and it feels amazing to be back and celebrate it. "I know what pride means now." Oh Jonny!!
Ron talking about the chemistry between Matt and Jonny (that I already mentioned above)
I love and adore Matt beyond measure, so I'm allowed to say this. He has a tendency to go into professional/autopilot mode sometimes, and he does just this when the interviewer (who was great btw!) asks him about the sex scenes. He starts repeating things he's already said in dozens of interviews. But then Jonny starts talking, with much more candour, and it's glorious. And you can see, at least in some angles of the video, that Matt starts to blink and swallow a lot. It's like Jonny unlocks him, like he always does...
Jonny's joke: "Obviously you'd want a scene partner like Matt, because he never put a foot wrong..." Nobody makes Matt laugh like Jonny does. I wish their chairs had been just a little closer, because Jonny really tried to put his head on Matt's shoulder.
youtube
Yeah. Yesterday will stay with me for a very long time.
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sleeping-sirens · 2 years ago
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hey nimi, i hope you’re well! i really loved the drabble you did “morning with haechan” and i was wondering if you could write a scenario with mark maybe teaching f reader how to speak korean + every time she gets it correct, he’ll reward her with a kiss or smth (i like to think mark would actually be really affectionate to his partner) 🥹 thank you <3 this was inspired by mark helping jaemin speak english, it was such a sweet scene, here’s the link: https://twitter.com/markclty/status/1640862192810569728?s=46&t=Tq9aSdZbZ4voR3kbqgerrw
가르쳐 줘 (teach me) 𖤐 lee mark
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pairing : idol mark x f reader.
genre : lots of fluffffffff, domestic, established relationship.
summary : what the request said, and i also was inspired by his moment with jungwoo in their relay cam where each had to come up with a word that starts with what the previous word that’s been said ended with (idk if i explained that right but you can watch it here if you still haven’t 🥹).
word count : 2810 words.
warnings : mark whispering that’s my girl this is a huge warning😵‍💫 and maybe suggestive towards the end? other than that everything is just so cute and wholesome 😭🥹��🏼
a/n : hey anon! i hope you enjoyed this! sorry it took too long i was just trying to organize my thoughts as my brain is just rotting with heachan 😵‍💫 but i wanted to prioritize your request before i can proceed with writing my haechan thoughts down haha 😋 also i wanted to thank you for reading and enjoying my morning with haechan drabble that’s so sweet from you!!🫶🏼🥹 and i would be EXTREMELY happy if you could tell me what you think of this through an ask😭 i’d love to hear your opinion as i already did a request before this one and i’ve never gotten any feedback so i was a bit sad :(( anywayssss without further ado, please enjoy!!💘💞💕💖💗💓
masterlist
buy me a coffee🥹🫶🏼
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the kitchen was quiet again after you turned off the water boiler. with the tea bags already tucked inside the two mugs on the counter, you poured the hot water and watched as it quickly changed its color, from clear to deep red. the steam created small clouds that kept disappearing into the air as you took your mug in both hands to warm your palms before placing it on a platter, followed by your boyfriend’s.
the gloomy weather outside made you feel calm and collected, and your body moved smoothly around the kitchen as you tried to cut some pieces of cake, along some strawberries and bananas for you and your boyfriend to munch on while chilling in the living room. it was a sunday, a rare day for mark to have some rest and just relax at home and you were so happy that you guys were going to spend some time together after ages of him being busy.
from the small distance separating the kitchen and the living room, you could hear him talking on the phone. you heard him say 엄마 (eomma) a few times, and you could easily understand that he was talking to his mother on the phone. other than that, you were quite clueless about what he was saying.
sometimes you’d feel so left out of his life, you wanted to be part of everything that made him be the person that he was today. mark never once made you feel a difference because of the language barrier, you guys communicate easily in english but sometimes you just wish you could understand more than just a few words of his mother tongue.
you bit your lip slightly as you gazed at him from your standing position in the kitchen. his voice was smooth, almost dripping with warm honey, the words sounding more gruff and slurred than usual, which signaled that he was indeed relaxed but also very tired that just one day of rest won’t be enough to make it up for all the work load that’s been on his shoulders.
your eyes softened on him, your tea long forgotten as you just relished in the sound of his small and sweet voice. he looked so cute curled up in the far side of the couch, head lying in the arm rest as his fingers raked mindlessly through his disheveled blue strands of hair.
his eyes would close for longer seconds and sometimes he would just opt for humming an answer instead of taking the time to formulate a coherent one. your heart swelled as you looked at him.
“my baby…” you sighed under your breath.
your gaze was lingering on him too long he felt it burning on his skin, which made him throw a look up in your direction. his tongue poked the corner of his mouth while a smile bloomed on his lips, his eyebrows jumped up his forehead into a questioning look, asking you if you were okay with a tilt of his face but you just smiled at him, shaking your head.
“tell her i said hi,” you whispered to him and he nodded in response, quickly translating your phrase into korean.
you were fascinated to say the least, you’ve always been. the way mark quickly switched from english to korean, or sometimes mixing both the languages in one phrase was effortlessly attractive to you.
at first you tried to learn the language secretly from him, thinking about surprising him with it in the future, but as you went on, your hopes have diminished as it got harder with every grammar lesson, and not to start talking about the vocabulary… mark knew that you started learning korean and everyday he would be so proud to be with someone like you, to be loved by someone like you.
the fact that you decided to sacrifice some time out of your day to learn the language that he grew up with, the language that linked him with his family and his roots, the language in which mark felt home made him fall even deeper in love with you. and he was always so happy to help you with it.
“i’ll never be enough for you,” you sniffled, letting go of the pencil you had between your fingers before hugging your knees closer to your chest.
when mark saw the effort you were making in learning his mother tongue, his heart swelled and grew larger inside his chest, that he wanted to physically grab it and put it back in its place.
“sweetheart, why haven’t you told me?” he scooted closer to your body that was sitting on the floor, pushing your notebook and pencil case aside and engulfing you in a warm embrace. “i could teach you,” his fingers gently rubbed your arm in a comforting manner. he made you feel so loved with just small and tender touches.
“you would?” you whispered, finally looking up at him.
mark wiped your tears with the back of his index finger, a love foolish smile illuminating his face. “of course i would. let me see your notebook, we’ll start with the basics.”
that was the conversation you guys had a few weeks ago and since then, mark has never stopped taking some time to help you learn the language little by little.
when the call with his mother ended, you grabbed the platter with the tea mugs, cake and cut up fruits and went to sit next to him on the couch.
“how’s your family?” you asked as you handed his tea mug over to him.
“thanks babe,” mark sat up straight and quickly took the cup from your hands, giving you a quick peck on the lips as a thank you before he answered your question. “they’re doing good, they’re on a vacation in gangwon right now.” he talked before taking a sip.
“really? it’s cold right now to be in a beach area,” you wondered, plopping a strawberry inside your mouth.
“exactly,” mark swallowed his cake bite, “their plan was to see the snow on the beach.” his eyes traveled up to give you an encouraging look, the words being something you knew the translation to them in korean.
you quickly understood your assignment. “해변에 눈 (haebyeon-ae noon),” you smiled as you answered confidently.
“good job, babe,” he scrunched his nose at you, following it by a bright smile. “let’s see if you can translate another word, how about that?”
“mark, this is supposed to be your rest day,” you laughed, leaning on his shoulder.
“i am resting,” he reassured, his hand reaching out to secure your head on his shoulder when you wanted to pull away from his body. this little action was enough to send your heart into a frenzy of heartbeats and butterflies.
“mmm,” mark hummed, the vibrations of his voice spreading throughout your body and making you feel at ease. “if you could tell me what we’re doing right now, in korean, i’ll reward you with something.”
“what would that be?” you asked, wittingly.
“the reward?”
you hummed as a yes.
“i’ll let you know when you give an answer, and it needs to be right.”
“mark,” you whined. “that’s unfair!”
“how would that be unfair babe,” mark laughed, his body rocking along yours. “i know you can do it, come on.”
“uhmm, right now we are…” you started thinking, the words coming inside your brain in english first. “drinking tea?”
“yes…in korean?” mark encouraged you to continue.
“지금…“
”ooooohhhhh,” mark reacted too quickly, rubbing your arm and tapping on it encouragingly, already being impressed by you translating one of the most basic words in korean. you were so proud and so happy that he easily made you feel so confident.
“차를 마셔요 (cha-reul masheoyeo)” you articulated slowly, still very much unsure of your translation skills.
“very good baby,” mark pecked your temple. “but what did we learn about actions that are currently happening in time? right now it’s like you said “we drink tea” but there’s a specific way to say “we’re drinking tea”, you remember?”
you hummed in question again. “마시고 있어요 (mashigo isseoyeo)?”
“very good job baby!” mark ruffled your hair and engulfed you in a big hug, pressing your face in his chest. he was very happy and excited that you got it right.
you were happy as well and you started giggling out of nowhere. “let’s do something else.”
“oooohhhh we’re confident now, are we?” he joked which made you slap his chest gently.
“you told me there was a reward, so i’m all in or nothing.”
“okay,” mark chuckled, scratching his chin. “how would you say that the weather is cold outside and you just wanna chill with your talented and handsome boyfriend?”
“that’s intermediate level mark, i’m still a beginner.”
“come on babe, i know you can do it.” he made you pull away from his chest and positioned you to be sitting in front of him on the couch. he stretched his legs in a way that you would be sitting between them before he wrapped them behind your back and pulled you closer to his body.
the heat raised to your ear at his swift movement and the proximity of his body made your heart beat like crazy. mark’s hands reached for your thighs and spread them so he could be positioned in the middle of them as well, before helping you wrap them around his waist.
inside your head, you just tried to control your breathing. your brain felt mushy, thoughts evaporating while your ears buzzed with exhilaration. your pupils dilated as you fixated mark’s face, your gaze zeroing on the mole on his face to avoid looking directly into his eyes.
“babe?” he tapped on your cheek and chuckled when he saw your flustered state. “you’re zoning out, there’s a reward remember?”
“yeah…yes! the reward,” you laughed nervously, wondering what the reward would be. you were already trembling and your heart was palpitating with mark’s face being so close to yours, you could feel his breath fanning over your skin.
“okay, let’s start with translating “the weather is cold outside” first, then we’ll go from there.” he guided you.
you nodded, clearing your throat. mark’s hands rubbed your knees, massaging all over the area to help you relax and concentrate but you were failing miserably as the only thing you could think of was how he was touching you.
you felt so bad ruining such a wholesome moment with your intrusive thoughts but you were just so in love with mark that every little touch still made you feel all giddy.
you bit your lip, inhaling deeply from your nose.
“don’t be nervous,” mark whispered, nodding his head to encourage you to speak.
“추워 (chuweo)…”
“come on babe, give me a full sentence.” he smiled but you just couldn’t get your brain to function properly, you could neither return the smile nor think of what to say. “what did we say about the weather? you learned this word not long ago.”
“i know it starts with an “N”…” you mumbled, your eyes looking everywhere.
“right!” he exclaimed, leaning in to give you a small kiss on the cheek. “here’s a small reward for remembering the start of the word.”
your heart was going to burst out of your chest at how kind and patient mark was with you. and you tried so hard to get the sentence right so you could see his proud smile blooming on his face again.
“날씨가 추워요 (nalssi-ga chuwoyeo)-“you stopped before he could react, “mark i don’t know how to say outside in korean,” you pouted, looking down at your fiddling fingers.
“it’s okay baby, you’re doing so good already.” he ruffled your hair again before noticing your fiddling fingers. he placed his palms on your hand in a calming manner. “in korean it’s okay to drop the word outside in a sentence, just saying the weather is cold (날씨가 추워요) is enough. but in case you want to use it in a sentence in the future, outside is 밖 (bakk). if you want to use it, you need to pair it with 에 (e) or 은 (eun), depends on the sentence.”
you listened carefully to his explanation, while playing with his fingers instead of fiddling with yours.
“so the full sentence would be 밖은 날씨가 추워요 (bakk-eun nalssoga chuwoyeo)?”
“exactly! good job baby,” mark clapped as he saw the relieved smile appear on your face. “now for the second part of the sentence.”
“what was it again? the second sentence?” you sheepishly asked, laughing nervously.
mark raised his eyebrow at you, a poor attempt at flirting with you and you laughed so hard at that. he started leaning closer to you, with his eyebrow still raised. you tried to stop him from getting closer by putting your hands on his shoulders, both of you laughing so hard at each other.
“mark what are you doing?” you asked through the fit of laughter that was going on between you. mark bit his lip, exaggerating his flirtatious action.
“maaaark,” you whined. “stop!” your stomach hurt from how hard you were laughing and he was laughing just as hard as you.
“okay okay,” he surrendered, raising his hands in defeat. “the sentence was “i just want to chill with my talented and handsome boyfriend” now come on.”
“is talented and handsome mandatory?” you laughed, rolling your eyes jokingly.
“of course! if you want to learn korean, you need to know the right words to compliment me with,” he tilted his head to the side, his long fringe draping over his round eyes, “or nah?” he whispered the last word, his voice going an octave deeper.
you cleared your throat. “right, of course, but i only know handsome in korean.”
“mmhm,” mark hummed, squinting his eyes. “that’s not bad already. you know what, skip talented, let’s leave it for a later session, how about that?”
you laughed at his attempts at flirting with you. he was just so cute and so effortlessly attractive with just acting boyish and love foolish. and you loved him just the way he was. you loved his nervousness and you loved the way he would stumble upon his own words sometimes. but most of all, you loved how he always made sure to show you how much he loved you and how much you meant to him. with his encouragement and kind words always warming your heart, you were certain that your heart was in good hands.
you loved him openly and without any restraints. never once being afraid of him breaking your heart. and you promised to be just as good with him as he was with you.
without realizing it, you leaned closer to his cheek where you placed a soft kiss on his skin. and he gave you a questioning look. “thank you for being patient with me mark.”
he smiled as a response. “of course babe.” he rubbed your hand with his thumb before nudging you to continue your assignment.
“okay, so… we said 밖은 날씨가 추워요, now we’re gonna say…잘 생긴 남자 친구와 (jalsaeng-in namjachingu-wa) chill…how do we say chill in korean?”
“just go with chill, that’s alright.” mark smiled.
“okay,” you nodded. “잘 생긴 남자 친구와 chill하고 싶어요 (jalsaeng-in namjachingu-wa chill-hago sipeoyo).”
“perfect!” mark smiled so bright, squeezing your cheeks between his palms until your lips pouted. “that’s my girl,” he whispered before leaning closer to you and kissing you softly on the lips.
your breath hitched inside your throat, and mark noticed it and tried to calm you down and help you get into the kiss by playing with the hair on your nape. he smiled into your lips when you started kissing him back, sneaking your hands around his waist. eagerly, mark brushed his hands down your back before clutching on your thighs and helping you sit on his lap, without breaking the kiss.
“you did so good today you deserve to be kissed until you lose your breath.” mark whispered, his soft breath numbing your puffy lips, making them feel tingly and itching for another kiss.
“is that my reward?” you breathlessly asked, wrapping your arms around his neck, your nose brushing over his.
“you don’t like it?” he looked up at you with hooded eyes. he looked worried, and you played with his neck to show him just how much you loved to be kissed by him.
“i love it!” you breathed out, finally crashing your lips on his, making him emit a low hum from his throat.
did someone say you prepared some cut up fruits for the both of you to enjoy on his rest day? those didn’t even compare to the plenty of kisses you guys were going to give each other.
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