#i also didn't go into it because there's really no way to know and it's already hard enough to refer to that character

[inthelittlewood]

Questions about Eyes And Ears AU

I had somebody ask for a brief interview regarding my storytelling for their university project and thought I'd lend a hand.

I thought those of you that follow the story might like the insight too, so here ya go:

When you first introduced the Listeners in Evo SMP, did you have a broader narrative or concept in mind, or were they more of an atmospheric element at that point?

The honest answer is that I didn't want to write too much about somebody else's character(s), that being Grian's Watchers. If I could write the conflict from the side of the Listeners then we could continue the narrative with a pre-designed opposing force but have them be relatively mute for the most part. Partly to build anticipation of when they might act or retaliate but it also worked for behind the scenes purposes too. If the series hadn't slowed/stopped as suddenly as it did, I definitely would have poked Grian to pick his brain about what story elements fit his original imagining of the Watchers. So it was mostly narrative reasoning but they also served a mechanical behind the scenes purpose of transporting us to a new area which was necessary due to bugs we'd encountered with world gen etc.

What inspired you to flesh out the Eyes and Ears AU more in recent years? Was that mostly a personal creative decision, or was it influenced by fan interest?

Honestly I hadn't premeditated too much their reintroduction into anything that I was working on. Sure I'd seen a little chattering here and there about the Watchers but I honestly just wanted to write an individual story beat (albeit a tropey one) of c!Martyn snapping and turning on Ren but that never came to fruition due to Scar taking us out. The plan was always to backstab Ren then say a cool line like "Red Winter is over, Red Spring has begun" or something else punny. Seeing the fevered reaction of the audience though gave me some confidence that I could try my hand at some layered or entirely post-production storytelling, so heading into Last Life I was all guns blazing.

The Eyes and Ears AU is quite open-ended — do you intentionally approach it with the idea of leaving narrative space for fan interpretation?

It really is right? Yes, it's a very mindful decision to leave it open-ended but not so much for the audience's benefit or interpretations, but to give myself creative freedom to take the story wherever I'd like to. Committing to too many power scale, multiverse or narrative shackles early can really strangle stories I've noticed (from reading comics and manga) meaning back pedalling or aggressive retcons are required to explore certain paths, which is rarely a good experience for the reader. I do enjoy their versatility and capability to be applied to any Minecraft or adjacent story too. Some might call it too broad, I call it malleable.

How do you feel about fans expanding the lore through headcanons and theories? Have any fan interpretations stood out or surprised you?

I think it's brilliant! People inundate my inbox on Tumblr seeking permission to write stories or create characters / AUs but I've literally no authority on that. I suppose it might be a different conversation if they were profiting off of those works, but 99% of people simply want to write for fun which I highly encourage!! I'll be honest that I haven't read a great deal of AUs or headcanons, my exposure to them is mostly via chat messages during lore talk streams or questions that come through regarding the Eyes And Ears AU. As a general rule I try to avoid reading too much of other people's works on the topic because I worry I'll accidentally regurgitate it in some way then stumble into plagiarism, you know? It's why I focus more on digesting stories outside the fandom whether it's manga, Sanderson books, reading old Japanese folk tales and the like. I can source inspiration from those on how to weave narrative and execute plot twists without having to glance in my front yard.

Has fan content (art, theories, animatics, etc.) ever influenced how you think about or approach the AU?

Oh for sure they have. It's literally why after every season we'll do a sit down stream and talk about the lore in detail. Figure out the puzzle and potential trip wires of plot points from the episodes and how we can neatly pack them into the pre-existing story. A lot of people wouldn't do that as they'd be precious about their work and believe their opinion is th only correct one, but I looooove soundboarding with the audience on it. I also take that mindset in game and sometimes think about the scenery of an impactful moment whenever I'm able to control / design it. I'll have little quips or quotes cooked in my mind for how I'd ideally deliver a blow or plot twist, buuuuut given the nature of the Life series you very rarely get to execute things how you'd like haha! I definitely wouldn't have done as many of the poems had their not been such a positive reaction to those. I often see individual lines or entire passages make their way into art pieces as typography or highlighted in animatics which is really gratifying. It's why I also put such an emphasis and priority on audio production in my editing. If I can craft something that feels atmospheric, driving and punctuating with music, staggering vocals or sound effects then the auditory portion is already done, they can focus solely on the visual aspect of things. I try and be as cinematic / TV like as my skillset allows for that reason.

You’ve mentioned trying not to fully canonise the AU, but still referencing it consistently — how do you balance telling your own story effectively, while trying not to involve other creators, particularly on the Life Series, when a lot of your time is spent in a group?

The easiest way to do this, is to not do it. For the most part the only storytelling done with the AU is done in post-production. I never name drop the Watchers or Listeners in world (believe me, I was as surprised as all of you when I saw that Secret Keeper statue in Secret Life!!) and in recent seasons they haven't even reared their head as an influence whatsoever. They're on holiday, they deserve it. But when they do whisper in my ear, they're motivated decisions that I would likely make as a player/character anyway because the win objective is always the thing I'm striving towards. I can just pepper angst around it to make things seem more manipulated rather than selfish ha. I think that's why the open ended nature of the Watchers has served me well because as much as they have a singular motive which is to feed on negative emotions, that can be achieved in so many ways ranging from bloodlust to deception, heartbreak to panic. It's versatile for storytelling. It can be in your face, or a slow burn.

What do the Watchers and Listeners represent to you, symbolically or narratively? Do they serve a specific function in the stories you tell?

The Watchers used to represent the audience when Grian first introduced them, but after departing EVO I've definitely breathed more of an egotistical and sinister air into them. They're very much a unique entity / faction now, they in some ways represent gluttony, selfishness and neglect in achieving their goals. The Listeners on the other hand, are a lot of the opposite traits, but I'm still wanting to explore how being the hard end of most conflicts can be dangerous. I want to explore that at some point, whether it be with infighting or failures. They shouldn't be seen as simply bad/good, they're just, different. It shouldn't be too hard navigating that nuance but I want it to reflect elements and motives that we find in our own lives.

[tangent101]

Lantern Bearer.

It was 1978. I was in camp and a bunch of guys were playing this game with dice and talking and I wanted in. And the GM was very polite and worked with me while the other guys wanted me out of there because I was years younger than them.

When I was asked what class I'd want to be, I said "I don't know" because I had no idea about the game. They were having fun and I wanted to have fun. So the GM said "you're a lantern bearer, your job is to hold this lantern and keep things lit."

The group tried to get me killed off. They gave me a sword and told me to go hamstring an ettin. I missed. The ettin turned and I started fast-talking, telling the Ettin about nutrition and vitamins and how good people (I chose Neutral Good as an alignment) were less nutritious than evil people and the GM was so amused he let me talk my way out of instant death. I befriended the Ettin.

The group immediately showed up (they had been hired to capture the Ettin for some lord's dungeon) all claimed to be good aligned and my friend and we headed back to the lord and set the Ettin into the dungeon. We then were asked to capture some other beast (it might have been a Wyvern, not sure it was nearly 50 years ago) or go into the dungeon. We chose the latter.

A horde of kobolds were in the second chamber and the group got slaughtered. One of the group begged me to help and I was "I'm just a lantern bearer!" but I did drag the unconscious monk into the first room where another healthy character also fled and we barricaded the door. The lord never opened the dungeon for us and the Ettin didn't hear my calls for help. So we died in there, of thirst and hunger. And I was hooked.

I've not really played much since. I mostly GM. And I suppose my initially being selected as a "lantern bearer" holds true as I bring light into new worlds and games for others to see by. :)

I feel like the first class you played in DND tells a lot about you

Reblog and put in the tags what your first class was

[misayani]

⌗ 𝒴ellowjackets women when you give them 'fuck me' eyes while in a conversation with the other girls

౨ৎ jackie taylor, who wouldn't notice it at first. especially when she's talking about something and she does not want to be disturbed. when she finally notices though, she's stunned. she'll blink, glance away, then look back again at you to make sure you're actually looking at her like that. she's flustered as hell, but she'll wait until the conversation ends then she'll take you for herself. 

౨ৎ lottie matthews immediately knows. it's almost like she could feel it when you're staring at her?? her pupils dilate and her breathing slows while she stares back at you like she's daring you to keep looking at her like that. there's just something with the way her lips part, like she's savoring the fact that you need her. she gives the softest smirk and moves closer without a word. no words are exchanged, all you know that she's leading you somewhere quiet to take care of you <3

౨ৎ unlike jackie, shauna shipman would notice it as soon as you give her those eyes because she's always staring at you. she'd break the eye contact quickly and act like she didn't see anything. minutes go by and poor baby can't help but check you out—from your legs, to your thighs, to your stomach, and then your neck. but she snaps out of it and shakes her head, trying to stop her brain from going places. (it has already gone there)

౨ৎ natalie scatorccio smirks the second you give her that expression. she leans back in her chair, arms crossed, looking at you up and down with eyes that read try me. she also spreads her legs apart as if she has something growing between them. she doesn't say anything, but she's already imagining her hands under your clothes. she has already decided what she's going to do to you the second you're both alone and it's filthy. 

౨ৎ if you give taissa turner those eyes, she'll raise a brow like really? her lips part slightly, her tongue will run along the inside of her cheek while she boldly checks you out (will smirk when you squirm under her gaze.) she leans back with her hand resting on her thigh, imagining how it would look wrapped around your throat. keep looking at her like that, then you'll find out exactly how mean she can be.

౨ৎ van palmer catches your look and their whole body reacts—as if you had just flipped a switch inside them. they'll grin but it's not one of those playful ones, it's one of those 'i'll fuck your brains out later don't test me' typa grin. they tilt their head, lips parting as if they were already eyefucking you. it was obvious to the point jackie noticed, and then look at you both with a confused expression, 'what the fuck?'

౨ৎ sweetheart misty quigley is surprisingly bold. her expression visibly lights up and then she's basically beaming at you. no shame, no hesitation, she's already scooting closer to you. all smiley and thrilled, like you just told her a secret only the two of you know about<3 she's definitely planning something.

𝒾. MISA'S THOUGHTS i need to chill with the smut and write angst or fluff so pls send requests plspls im sweet i promise

[cookie-lore-keeper]

I genuinely think that Hollyberry Cookie always talked so lightly and cheerfully about her clear addiction to Berry juice (they call it juice, but we all know it's alcohol) is because, if she's lighthearted and treats it as "just a way she's having fun and letting loose", her friends and other cookies won't worry about her, and then she could ignore that she actually has a problem.

Hollyberry Cookie has MAJOR avoidance and coping issues. She only became an alcoholic after one of her closest friends died, and it also gave us the scene where people who weren't insane about analyzing her went "Oh shit, this is actually a problem", where she was continously drinking and her son was trying to get her to stop. I didn't grow up in an alcoholic household, but I know that scene must've resonsted with a lot of people. But, she turned to alcohol because she had no other way to cope.

She couldn't handle dealing with queenly stuff, so she passed on the kingdom to Royal Berry while she went off to Beast-Yeast to avoid her issues. Even when she heard that one of her granddaughter's was taken by a dragon, she didn't go back, even though she was heartbroken, because in her mind, the best way to cope is to avoid it and distract yourself.

Even now in the game, she still chooses to avoid and drink. It's become a joke on how much Wildberry has to stop her from drinking, but he really must be worried about her. She took him in when he was young, right? Do you ever think he had a moment similar to Royal Berry? Where he had to watch his caretaker get blackout drunk instead of dealing with her issues? But, she doesn't pay any mind to this because, to her, "It isn't a big deal."

Tldr; Hollyberry doesn't take her drinking problem seriously bcuz that would mean admitting she actually has a problem, and she doesn't want her friends and family to worry.

[benispunk]

Safety Net

logan howlett x reader

Logan experiences a rage episode.

A/N: hello everyone!!!! am I back??? well...I guess we can kinda say that? So, life hasn't been good, like, at all, and a whileeee ago I saw a post about mental health and Logan and I saw the "rage episodes" part and I cannot find this post anymore which is killing me ughhhh but ANYWAY, this is my rendition of a rage episode. this was very therapeutic to write because of the things I went through recently and over the past few years as I have witnessed someone in my family have a rage episode like the one depicted in this fic. I really hope I do not offend anyone with this??? cause this is based on personal memory and also I've done a lot of research on it and as I said, I felt lots of different emotions while writing this....anyway...I hope you have a good time?? reading this or like...you didn't choke on your tears or whatever. my exams are ALMOST over which means....more fics soon?? see you!!

Masterlist

Logan never thought he’d make it this far.

He wasn’t the type for relationships—not real ones, not the kind that lasted. The ones he’d had before were brief, messy, and built on things that never stuck. But Y/N was different. She didn’t just put up with him; she understood him in ways that no one ever had. And somehow, despite everything, she was still here.

He didn’t say it much—not in words, anyway—but he cared about her. More than he should. More than he knew how to handle. He’d show it in other ways instead. Walking her home when she worked late. Holding her a little tighter in his sleep when he thought she wouldn’t notice. Memorizing the way she took her coffee, the songs she hummed under her breath, the way her nose scrunched up when she was thinking.

She saw through all of it.

"You’re not as grumpy as you think you are," she’d teased him once, her fingers lazily tracing patterns on his forearm.

He’d just snorted, shaking his head. "You sure about that?"

"Mhm. You just pretend to be."

And maybe she was right. Maybe, with her, he didn’t feel the need to pretend so much.

Which is why, one night, tangled up together in her apartment, she had said something that stuck with him.

"I was thinking… maybe one day, we could live together."

It wasn’t a question, not really. Just an idea, something she had tossed out so casually, like it was the most natural thing in the world. But Logan had frozen for just a second too long, and she must have noticed because she quickly added, "Not now, obviously. Just, you know… one day. If you’d want that."

He forced himself to relax, to keep his voice even. "Yeah… someday."

That had been enough for her. She had smiled, kissed him, and let it go.

But he didn’t.

It stayed with him, gnawed at him from the inside out. Someday. What did that even mean? A month? A year? What if she asked again? What if she expected something from him?

What if he said yes and fucked everything up?

At first, he managed to push the thought aside.

Days passed, and nothing changed. They still met up when they could, still spent nights tangled in each other’s arms, still fell into that easy rhythm that had become so natural.

But then, the idea started sticking.

It crept up in quiet moments—when he was alone in his apartment, staring at the ceiling. When Y/N texted him goodnight, and he imagined what it would be like if she was just… there.

And that’s when it started. The overthinking. The doubts. The realization of everything that could go wrong.

Logan had never had anything that lasted. Not a home. Not a real future. Not someone who stayed. And if he let himself believe—even for a second—that this could work, that he could have something good, then he’d just be setting himself up for the inevitable.

Because eventually, he would hurt her.

Not on purpose. Never on purpose. But he knew himself. He knew what he was.

His nightmares alone were enough proof of that.

The thought of waking up next to her after one of those nights—claws unsheathed, sheets shredded, breath ragged—made his stomach twist. What if he lashed out? What if she got caught in it?

What if one of his rage episodes got out of hand?

No.

He couldn’t let that happen.

So when months later she asked about it again—actually asked—he hesitated.

They were sitting on her couch, her legs thrown over his lap, a movie playing in the background. It was the kind of easy, quiet moment that usually put him at ease. But this time, he could feel her looking at him, like she was weighing her words before speaking.

"You never really answered me before," she said finally. "Do you actually want us to live together?"

Logan’s jaw tightened. He could hear the uncertainty in her voice, like she was scared of his answer.

He should have told her the truth. That it had been eating him alive for months. That he wanted to say yes, but his fear screamed louder than anything else.

Instead, he said, "I just need some time to think about it."

Y/N’s expression didn’t change. She just nodded slowly, studying him in that way that made his skin itch.

"Okay," she said, like she didn’t believe him.

And then she squeezed his hand. Just briefly. A small, warm reassurance.

But to Logan, it didn’t change anything.

He could only see what he thought was disappointment behind her understanding. He convinced himself she was just trying to be strong about it, pretending it didn’t hurt her when really, she was just waiting for him to figure himself out.

The guilt settled in his chest, heavy and suffocating.

That’s how it started.

The beginning is always subtle. He stayed out later, made excuses when she asked to meet up. His texts became shorter, more infrequent. He spent more time alone in his apartment, staring at the walls, trapped inside his own head.

And the longer it went on, the worse it got.

Logan convinced himself it was nothing. He was just thinking. That’s all.

But the thoughts never stopped.

Every time Y/N messaged him, guilt curled in his stomach like a sickness. He’d stare at his phone for minutes at a time, fingers hovering over the keyboard, before locking the screen and tossing it onto the couch.

He didn’t want to ignore her. But if he answered, he’d have to talk, and if he talked, she’d hear it in his voice—how torn he was, how he could barely keep himself together. And he couldn’t let that happen.

So he let the distance grow.

He told himself it was for her own good. That he was doing her a favor.

That lie worked for about a week.

Then came the restlessness.

The apartment, always too small, started feeling like a cage. Logan found himself pacing the length of it, muscles coiled so tight they ached. He tried training to burn it off—push-ups until his arms gave out, running until he couldn't feel his legs—but it didn’t help.

The frustration built like pressure under his skin, like a ticking bomb he couldn’t disarm.

And worst of all, he felt it creeping up—an old, familiar feeling, something he’d kept at bay for months.

The anger.

It started small. A twitch in his fingers. A tightness in his jaw. A heat in his chest that never fully went away.

The second week, it got worse.

His hands trembled when he wasn’t paying attention. His breathing came too fast, too shallow, like something was crawling under his skin. He felt his temper snap quicker, his patience wear thinner.

And then, one morning, he caught his reflection in the bathroom mirror and barely recognized himself.

Dark circles burned under his eyes. His face was drawn, sharp, his shoulders tense. He looked haunted.

It was getting bad. Too bad.

He needed to see Y/N.

The thought hit him like a slap. His first instinct was to shove it down, bury it under everything else, but it wouldn’t leave.

He missed her. But worse than that—he needed her.

And that terrified him more than anything.

Because what if he showed up, and she looked at him the way he looked at himself?

What if she finally saw him for what he really was?

A monster. A wreck. A lost cause.

The fear made his blood run cold.

The first punch isn’t planned.

One second, he’s gripping the sink, breath ragged, jaw locked so tight it aches. The next, his fist slams into the mirror with a force that shatters it instantly.

Glass rains down like ice. Tiny shards bite into his knuckles, but he barely feels it.

His chest heaves. His heartbeat pounds against his ribs. He stares at his own fractured reflection—his face split into a dozen broken pieces, each one warped, wrong.

It’s not enough.

The rage claws higher, burning his veins, crushing his ribs. He steps back, breathing sharp and uneven. He moves away from the bathroom, into his small living room. And then he snaps.

The lamp goes flying first. It crashes against the far wall, exploding into pieces. The chair follows. He barely registers the sound it makes as it shatters.

His claws threaten to unsheathe, but he fights it—barely.

Instead, he tears through the apartment with nothing but his hands.

The table gets overturned. Books get ripped from shelves. His dresser—too heavy, too solid—takes three violent attempts before it topples over with a thunderous crack.

Still, it’s not enough.

He needs to break something. To hurt something. To feel it.

His breathing is ragged, his vision tunneling. His hands tangle in his own hair, yanking, as if he could pull himself out of his own skin.

The storm inside him is suffocating.

It doesn’t stop until there’s nothing left standing.

And then, silence.

His shoulders tremble. His hands curl into fists at his sides, still shaking.

He looks around, blinking through the haze, and finally sees it—

The wreckage.

His apartment is destroyed.

He stares, breath coming too fast, too shallow. His head is spinning. His chest aches.

What have I done?

The thought slams into him, knocking the air from his lungs.

He wants to scream. To punch something again. To disappear.

And then—

A soft knock.

His stomach drops.

He goes rigid, pulse hammering in his ears. He barely has time to process before her voice follows—gentle, uncertain.

"Logan?"

No. No, no, no.

She can’t be here. Not now. Not when the air still vibrates with rage. Not when his body still hums with it.

He staggers back, breath shaking, trying to make sense of anything.

She knocks again. "I know you’re here."

Panic surges through him.

He grips the edge of the still standing counter, heart hammering. Think. Think.

But his mind is blank.

She can’t see this. She can’t see him.

But she’s already here.

And it’s too late.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t breathe. If he stays completely still, maybe she’ll leave. Maybe she’ll assume he’s out and walk away.

But then—

His phone rings.

The sound shatters the silence like a gunshot.

His stomach drops.

Shit.

His body jolts into motion, eyes darting wildly through the wreckage. Where the hell is it? He moves without thinking, shoving aside broken furniture, tossing clothes and debris out of the way. His hands are unsteady, frantic, as he digs through the mess.

The ringing continues.

Come on, come on—

His fingers finally close around the device, and he scrambles to turn it off, but—

The damage is done.

Outside, Y/N goes silent.

A few seconds pass, then—

"...Logan?" Her voice is softer now. Knowing.

His chest tightens.

He grips the phone so hard it creaks in his hand. His breathing is too loud, his pulse a hammer against his skull.

She knows.

"Logan, open the door."

No. No, no, she can’t.

"You can’t come in," he blurts out, his voice hoarse. He clears his throat, tries to steady himself, but it’s useless. His hands are still shaking. His entire body is.

"Please." Her voice is so gentle it cuts through him like a blade.

"Just—just go home, alright?" He forces the words out, presses his back against the door like he can physically hold her out. "I’m fine."

He knows how it sounds. Knows she doesn’t believe it.

"Logan…"

There’s something in her tone—something aching—that makes his stomach twist.

"You’re not fine," she says, quiet but firm. "Please. Just let me in."

He squeezes his eyes shut. His head is spinning.

She shouldn’t be here. She shouldn’t see this.

But she is.

And deep down, he knows. She’s the better option. She always has been. And with a sharp breath, his fingers fumble with the lock.

The second it clicks, the door opens.

And Y/N steps inside.

The air was thick with dust and the sharp scent of splintered wood.

The apartment—once messy in a charming, lived-in way—was destroyed. Furniture overturned, glass shattered across the floor.

In the middle of it all stood Logan. Frozen. Shaking. Like an animal cornered after ripping itself apart.

Y/N didn’t hesitate. Her heart ached so violently in her chest it almost knocked the air from her lungs, but she didn’t hesitate.

Carefully stepping over the broken glass, she made her way to him. Her hands reached out—gentle, slow—like approaching something fragile.

“Logan,” she breathed.

He flinched at her voice. His hands, bloody and trembling, curled into fists at his sides, as if trying to hold himself together. He wouldn’t look at her. Couldn’t.

But Y/N wasn't afraid. Not of him. Never of him.

She checked his hands first, ghosting her fingers over his knuckles, over shallow cuts that were already starting to heal. It didn’t matter—they could have hurt. She still touched him with the same care she would have used on something broken beyond repair.

“Come here,” she whispered, finding a chair that hadn’t been completely wrecked. She kicked aside some debris, made enough space, then turned back to him.

He didn’t move. Didn’t even seem to breathe.

So she went to him and she led him by the hand—gently, so gently—until he sat down with a heavy, defeated thud.

Y/N disappeared into the kitchen for a second, somehow finding a clean cloth and wetting it with cold water. When she came back, Logan hadn't moved. His eyes were empty, far away, like he wasn’t really there.

Kneeling in front of him, she pressed the damp cloth to his face, wiping away the blood, the dirt, the sweat.

He flinched again at first—then, slowly, surrendered to her touch. His head bowed forward, his whole body trembling under her hands. Tears fell down his cheeks. Silent. Endless. He didn’t even seem to notice them.

Y/N caught every tear with the cloth, and when that wasn’t enough, with the soft brush of her thumb against his skin. She kissed the corner of his mouth so lightly he barely felt it, her hands cradling his face like he was something precious.

“It’s okay,” she murmured, over and over again. “I’m here. You’re okay.”

Logan let out a breath that sounded like it hurt to release. His shoulders collapsed inward, and for a moment, he leaned into her, desperate and broken. But even then, even shattered, a part of him tried to pull away. He didn’t deserve this. Didn’t deserve her.

“You shouldn’t be,” he rasped, voice thick with guilt and misery.

Y/N’s heart twisted, but she didn’t loosen her hold. She shook her head and pressed her forehead gently to his. Her hands threaded through his hair, slow and steady, grounding him.

"I’ll always be here," she whispered.

And that—That broke him all over again.

Logan choked on a sob, rough and ugly, and Y/N gathered him close. She guided him toward the bedroom, somehow navigating the wreckage without letting go of him, like if she let go, he might fall apart completely.

They reached the bed—half wrecked but still standing—and she urged him to sit.

He obeyed, dazed and exhausted.

She climbed behind him, pulling him against her chest, holding him the way you would hold someone drowning. Her hands never stopped moving—through his hair, over his face, down his chest—silent promises written into every touch.

Logan tried to speak—tried to tell her he was sorry, that he was dangerous, that he should be alone—but the words tangled in his throat.

Instead, he cried.

For everything he was.

For everything he wasn’t.

For everything he was terrified to lose.

And she listened. Patient. Endless.

Her tears fell into his hair as she presses soft kisses there and whispered, “I’ve got you, Logan. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

For the first time in days—maybe longer—he believed her.

He stayed there, trembling in her arms, every breath a struggle. He was exhausted—but he couldn’t close his eyes. Couldn’t let himself fall into sleep, not yet. Not when every part of him screamed that he didn’t deserve this. Didn’t deserve her.

Y/N must have sensed it—the way he was still locked in the fight, even as his body sagged against her. Because after a long moment, she leaned back just enough to look at him, her fingers brushing through his hair again, slow and soothing.

"Logan," she said softly, "let’s go to my place, okay?"

Her voice was a balm, warm and certain, like she was offering him a lifeline he didn’t think he deserved.

"We’ll come back here when you're ready," she promised. "We'll clean up together. But right now, you need a place that feels safe."

Safe.

The word hit him like a punch.

Logan stiffened, guilt flaring so hard it made his stomach churn. He shook his head, tearing away from her touch even though it hurt to do it.

"I can’t," he rasped, his voice cracking. "I’ll... I'll just wreck that too."

Y/N’s chest squeezed painfully. Logan’s fists curled again, self-hatred bleeding out of every line of his body.

"I could—" he swallowed hard, his throat burning, "I could hurt you."

He didn’t say again. But it was there, unspoken.

He was a monster. A ticking bomb. Someone who could tear everything good apart without even meaning to.

But Y/N. She just reached for him again, steady and unwavering, like a lighthouse cutting through the storm.

"You won’t," she said, firm but gentle. "You won't because you're not alone. Because you don’t have to fight this alone anymore."

She squeezed his hand, grounding him back into her.

"And even if you still don’t believe it," she whispered, "even if you push me away, even if you try to shut me out... I’m not leaving you, Logan. Not now. Not ever."

Logan’s breathing hitched. He shook his head again, broken. "You don’t get it," he choked out. "I’m not... I'm not worth it. You should walk away. You should've walked away the second you saw—" He gestured weakly at the wreckage, at the wreck of himself.

But Y/N only moved closer. Closer until he couldn't look anywhere without seeing her. Feeling her.

"I saw you," she said, voice thick with emotion. "Not the mess. You."

That shattered something deep in him. Not in a violent way. In a way that stripped him down to the raw truth beneath all the pain: He needed her. He wanted her. He loved her more than he even knew how to say.

And she loved him right back, with a kind of love so fierce it scared him more than anything else in the world. But it also saved him.

Slowly, hesitantly, Logan reached for her again. His hand fisted in the back of her shirt like he was terrified she might vanish if he didn’t hold on tight enough. And when she leaned into him, wrapping him up in her arms again, he buried his face in her neck, letting himself finally, finally fall into her.

Maybe he didn’t deserve her. Maybe he never would.

But she was here. And for tonight, at least, that was enough.

She kept her arms around him for a long moment, just breathing with him. When she finally pulled back, it was only to cup his face in both hands, her thumb brushing gently across his cheek.

"Stay here," she whispered. "Don’t move, okay? I’ll be right back."

Logan didn’t argue. Couldn’t. He just nodded faintly, like a man barely clinging to the surface.

Y/N kissed his forehead so softly it made his chest ache, then she stood up, stepping carefully over the wreckage as she made her way back into the main room. He watched her go, guilt gnawing at him.

In the living room, Y/N moved quickly but carefully. She picked up the sharp shards of the broken mirror first, wrapping them in a towel before tossing them safely into the trash. She pushed splintered wood and broken glass out of the pathways, clearing a narrow, safe space from the bedroom to the front door. She closed the shattered shutters as best she could, dimming the room so that when Logan would come back here later, it wouldn't feel so raw. So exposed.

She worked with quiet determination, her heart breaking a little more every time she caught sight of the destruction. Not because she cared about the mess, but because she could feel how much pain Logan must've been in to cause it.

When she was satisfied that nothing dangerous remained, she made her way back to the bedroom.

Logan was still sitting exactly where she left him, on the edge of the bed, his shoulders slumped and hands loosely clenched in his lap.

Y/N’s heart squeezed.

She didn’t say anything at first. Instead, she moved around the room, finding a worn duffel bag tucked under the bed. She gently packed what she could: clothes that weren’t destroyed, a couple of small things she knew mattered to him.

In the bathroom, it was harder—cracked tiles, broken shelves—but she found his toothbrush, some of his toiletries, a couple of personal items, and tucked them into the bag too.

The whole time, Logan stayed silent, waiting on the edge of the bed.

It felt unreal. Like he wasn’t sure any of this was happening. Like any second now, she’d realize who he really was and walk out that door forever.

But she didn’t. She zipped the bag closed, slinging it over her shoulder and when she turned to him, her expression was still soft. Still his.

"Alright," she said gently. "Let’s go."

Logan hesitated, his body locked between guilt and the pull of her voice. But then she held out her hand to him and after a long, trembling second, Logan reached out and took it.

Her fingers wrapped tightly around his, like a promise.

She led him out of the bedroom, guiding him carefully around the worst of the wreckage she’d cleared, never letting go of his hand. Out the door. Out of the prison his fear had made.

The walk to Y/N’s apartment was quiet.

She kept a steady hand on Logan the whole time, whether it was gripping his hand, brushing his arm, or gently guiding him through doors and up steps.

Logan didn’t speak. He felt hollowed out and brittle, like if she let go of him even for a second, he might just blow away with the night wind.

When they finally reached her door, she unlocked it quickly, ushering him inside with a tenderness that made his throat ache.

The apartment smelled like her. Warm. Safe.

Home.

She kicked off her shoes by the entrance but didn’t ask him to do the same. Instead, she led him straight to the couch, easing him down carefully like he might break if she moved him too fast.

"Stay right here," she said softly, brushing his hair back from his forehead. "I'll be back in a second."

He nodded numbly, watching her flit around the small space. She pulled out a fresh blanket, fluffed a pillow behind him, checked the thermostat to make sure the place was warm enough. Every move was made with him in mind—with the kind of care he didn’t think he deserved.

And maybe he didn't. Maybe he was fooling himself to think he could have this. Have her.

As she moved into her bedroom to grab some extra clothes he could borrow, Logan’s eyes wandered without meaning to.

Her apartment was small but filled with life—books, photos, cozy little touches everywhere. He caught sight of something pinned to the fridge and frowned. He pushed himself up a little and squinted.

It was a photo. Worn and creased from being touched so often.

It was him. Him and her.

A candid photo from some random night he barely remembered, probably taken when they'd gone out for drinks with some of her friends. In it, he was looking off to the side, a rare, unguarded smile on his face. And she was laughing, leaning into him like she belonged there. Like she'd always belonged there. Someone had drawn a little heart under the picture.

Logan's chest tightened so hard it hurt. He hadn't even known she had that picture.

Y/N came back just then, carrying some sweatpants and a soft hoodie, but paused when she saw him up, looking at the fridge.

"Logan?" she said gently, setting the clothes down.

He shook his head, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. Trying to breathe past the crushing guilt and the unbearable love that wrapped around him like chains. He sat back down on the couch.

"I..." he started hoarsely. He dragged a hand down his face, then gritted out, "I don't deserve this. I don't deserve you."

Y/N didn’t hesitate. She dropped to her knees in front of him, cupping his face in her hands again, forcing him to look at her.

"Listen to me," she whispered, voice trembling but sure. "You’re not a monster. You’re not broken beyond saving. You are good, Logan. And you don’t have to do this alone anymore."

He squeezed his eyes shut, a broken sound escaping him—part sob, part plea.

"I could hurt you," he rasped. "I could—"

"You won't," she said fiercely. "I trust you. I know you."

Her thumbs brushed away the tears he didn't even realize were falling again.

For a long, trembling moment, Logan didn’t move. Didn't even breathe.

And then, like a man surrendering a battle he never wanted to fight in the first place, he leaned into her touch. Collapsed against her.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, he let himself believe he wasn't beyond saving.

Not as long as she was here. Not as long as she was holding him like this.

Logan’s body was heavy against hers, all tense lines and shuddering breaths. For a moment, he let himself rest there, forehead pressed to her shoulder, letting her hands ground him—gentle strokes along his back, soothing circles at the nape of his neck.

But then, as always, the guilt clawed its way back up his throat.

He shifted, starting to pull away.

"I—I should go," he muttered roughly, not even knowing where he thought he could go in this state. "I’ll just—I’ll sleep on the floor. Or— or the couch."

Y/N immediately tightened her hold.

"What are you talking about..." she said, firm but gentle, her hands sliding up to cradle his face again. "You're not going anywhere."

He shook his head, a pained sound escaping him, "You don’t—You shouldn't have to—" His voice cracked under the weight of it. "Look at me, Y/N."

"I am," she whispered, her thumb stroking just beneath his eye, brushing away a tear. "And all I see is the man I love."

He squeezed his eyes shut, breathing ragged.

She didn’t let him turn away. Didn’t let him fall back into that pit.

"You're staying right here," she said again, softer this time, like a promise. "With me."

For a second, he was frozen.

Then Y/N pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, lingering there.

"Come on," she murmured against his skin. "Let’s get you comfortable, alright?"

He nodded weakly, too exhausted to resist anymore.

She helped him out of his ruined jacket, guiding him with slow, careful movements like he was made of glass. He let her pull the sleeves down his arms, let her tug the hoodie over his head. Every touch was tender, every glance full of nothing but care and patience.

She handed him the fresh sweatpants and shirt she'd found earlier, giving him the dignity of changing in the bathroom if he wanted— but he just stood there, trembling, needing her near.

So she stayed. Helping him change, steadying his shaking hands when they fumbled with the fabric.

Once he was in clean clothes, Y/N led him to her bed.

The second he sat down, the mattress dipping under his weight, he seemed to lose what little strength he had left. He dropped his head into his hands, shoulders heaving with silent breaths.

Y/N knelt down again in front of him, brushing her fingers through his hair with infinite gentleness.

"You’re safe now," she whispered. "You’re safe. I’ve got you."

Logan swallowed hard, blinking back another wave of tears. He was so fucking tired. Of fighting. Of hurting.

Tired of believing he didn’t deserve this.

Slowly—so slowly—he lifted his head.

And she was there. Still there. Still looking at him like he was worth staying for.

"I’ll stay," he rasped, voice breaking.

Her smile trembled, but it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

"Good," she breathed, wiping another tear from his cheek. "That's all I want."

She climbed into bed beside him, pulling the blankets over them, never once letting go of his hand.

And for the first time in what felt like a lifetime, Logan let himself believe that maybe—just maybe—he didn’t have to be alone anymore.

XXX

feel free to comment if you want a part 2 or any other request!!

[niktheniknik]

Gonna do this with Selemil, let's go

Appearance, but it changed instantly

Nope, he was the first

I thought that i want his name to be long and weird, so i just mashed letters together until i was satisfied

The fact that magic is a half-tangible substance in this world, and that his people are made out of it, like artificially

Actually, yes! Not to the story, but meta! When i first was designing him, it wasn't intentional, so i didn't really know what to do with him. I took the color palette of watermelon to color him🙏. That's why his hair is green, but in the story it's similar to how copper oxidizes, but reversed.

Nope, he's just pretty like that

He prefers to be short

Curiosity about the world i guess

In many ways yes, but he became so disconnected, he just evolved past our initiatial similarities

They initially had a LI, but since the story is of their adventure first, i decided to scrap the LI

Yes, but it changed, he's a gay gay boy, but 2 years ago he also became asexual

Consistency in his eye shape and height

OH HoHo! The events go Back in the past long before any of the mcs are born, then there're events of Their story, then like 400 years into future :)

That he's a very secretive/deceptive but ultimately kind person, and that he has boundaries and morals, that when crossed, mean that his hands are now untied and that he won't be holding back

That he's actually a doll, he literally is a doll with Bluetooth

His love for his family :(

Nope, because as the author i get to change anything at any time. And i do when I'm not satisfied

No recent things! Or I'm forgetting.

That he can so anything and that he's really powerful, but he chooses to travel the world with some traumatised war(s) veterans

Questions About Creating Your OCs

‘Cause sometimes the stories of how OCs come to be are just as interesting as the OCs, themselves. Tell me how your virtual kids came into the world.

What was the first element of your OC that you remember considering (name, appearance, backstory, etc.)? 

Did you design them with any other characters/OCs from their universe in mind? 

How did you choose their name? 

In developing their backstory, what elements of the world they live in played the most influential parts? 

Is there any significance behind their hair color? 

Is there any significance behind their eye color? 

Is there any significance behind their height? 

What (if anything) do you relate to within their character/story? 

Are they based off of you, in some way? 

If they have an LI, how much of their character is tailored to be compatible to that person? 

Did you know what the OC’s sexuality would be at the time of their creation? 

What have you found to be most difficult about creating art for your OC (any form of art: writing, drawing, edits, etc.)? 

How far past the canon events that take place in their world have you extended their story, if at all? 

If you had to narrow it down to 2 things that you MUST keep in mind while working with your OC, what would those things be? 

What is something about your OC can make you laugh? 

What is something about your OC can make you cry? 

Is there some element you regret adding to your OC or their story? 

What is the most recent thing you’ve discovered about your OC? 

What is your favorite fact about your OC?

[aishaspen]

how i met your mother | james potter + sirius black

summary: james decides to tell his son the story of how he met his mother.

warnings: the italics indicate present time. swearing, sexual innuendos, underage drinking, use of Y/N. reader is implied to be of another house. there's like ONE crumb of sirius x reader. no-voldemort au, but the canon-compliant bigotry still exists.

a/n: i recently started rewatching himym which prompted me to write a marauders fanfic haha. anyways, i hope you guys like this and i’m always open to criticism and input as long as it is respectful!

“Harry!” The sixteen year old boy heard his father’s voice boom across the house, and rolled his eyes.

“Yes, dad?” Harry answered, loudly enough for his father to hear. He sat up in his sheets and reached for his glasses, putting them on and getting out of the bed.

There was a beat of silence. Harry furrowed his brows at it, and walked out of his room.

“Dad?” Harry called, before James finally answered.

“Yes, come into the living room! I wanted to talk to you about something.” James responded, and his voice sounded entirely too chirpy for his son’s liking.

Harry frowned for a moment, before his eyes widened in pure horror. He took a glance into his room, and saw the bottom of an empty bottle of firewhiskey hidden lousily beneath the bed.

Merlin, him and Ron were so stupid!

Harry took a few deep breaths, and walked down the stairs. When he walked into the living room, he saw that his father was already sitting on the couch, with a smile on his face, whose meaning Harry couldn't quite decipher.

“Sit, kiddo.” James looked up at his son, and gestured towards a cushioned chair.

The younger boy gulped nervously, before nodding and sitting down in the chair. Then, he peeked up at his father.

“I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Talk to me about what?” Maybe if he made his father think that he was being paranoid and delusional, he would feel guilty and drop the talk about the alcohol. Yeah, this was brilliant.

James’ eyebrows furrowed for a moment at his son’s strange tone, before shaking it off and answering his question.

“It’s something important, Harry. I hope you understand.”

“Am I being punished for something? Is this about me and Ron stealing your firewhiskey?”

“You lads stole my- nevermind. I am not going to punish you for anything Harry. This is about your mother.” James looked at his son expectantly as he waited for his reaction.

“What about mum?” Harry was both confused yet curious about what his father had to say, as it was on rare occasion that he ever spoke of mum. Harry had been begging him for scraps for an entire year, before he finally gave up and just stopped asking.

The younger Potter looked at the family photo on the wall for a moment, seeing his mum holding a toddler version of himself, while her and his dad laughed out at something. It had been his favourite photo.  

“Harry, I want you to listen to me carefully and patiently now. Because today, I am going to tell you the story of how I met your mother.”

It had been James Potter’s fourth year at Hogwarts, when he saw her for the first time.

And although neither of them knew it yet, that year was going to change their lives forever, for better or for worse.

They met at a Gryffindor party. Alice Fortesque’s courtesy.

“Now Harry, I am not trying to make excuses for myself or anything, but you need to know one thing.”

“What?” Harry wanted to tell his father that it did awfully sound a lot like he was making excuses for himself, but decided to bite his tongue on the matter.

“When I was at Hogwarts, I was not known as a cool popular guy, but an annoying git.”

“That’s not an unknown or surprising fact in any way whatsoever, dad.”

James decided to ignore his son’s jibe, and continued.

“I was also a really huge hopeless romantic.” James said, and Harry raised his eyebrows. But to be fair, he didn't really find it extremely difficult to believe.

James and Sirius were laughing to themselves as they reminisced about one of their old pranks, most probably aimed towards Snivellus.

“To hell with him, by the way.” James interrupted suddenly, making his son furrow his brows. Then he shrugged and nodded, because he didn't hold much love for his potions professor either.

He felt her before he saw her.

She came in through the portrait walking with a gaggle of girls surrounding her, all of them listening closely to what she had to say. As she gestured for the girls to spread out in the party, one of her friends—James had no idea about the relationship they shared—decided to stick by her.

So there she was, talking and laughing animatedly with her friend, while all he did was stare at her as if he would stare at a humongous carrot cake.

James’ eyes turned into hearts as she looked back at him, and gave him a small smile. Then she looked back at her friend and nodded along to whatever the girl was saying.

“It was like something from an old movie. When the sailor sees the beautiful girl across the crowded room and turns to his friend to say ‘See that girl over there? I am gonna marry her someday.’” James’ voice was animated as he talked, and Harry blamed the firewhiskey for the way his heart melted at his father’s words. Him and Mum were cute.

James felt his best friend’s presence behind him again, and immediately turned to him.

“Oye Sirius, see that girl over there?” James pointed his head in her direction, and Sirius looked at her as she talked to her friend.

“Oh yeah, you just know she likes it dirty.” He smirked to himself as he kept his eyes on her. James frowned at his friend's crass words, before rolling his eyes and going back to staring at the beautiful stranger.

As she was finally left alone by her companion, James found himself walking towards her.

“Hey, I’m-”

“I know who you are, Potter.” She interrupted him suddenly, and an awkward grin settled on his face. He sheepishly nodded, before looking back up at her. Of course she knew him. He had spent the last three years of his life extensively pranking people in each and every corner of Hogwarts.

“I saw you across the room.” What the fuck was that sentence? Obviously he saw her across the room, Merlin he was an idiot!

At hearing his words, a small smile paved its way onto her lips. Maybe she found his awkwardness cute? It wasn’t a regular occurrence for the Marauders—except for Sirius, of course—to involve themselves with girls. Especially not girls like the one standing in front of him.

“I noticed.”

“Um, brilliant! So, I was wondering if I… I mean if you want to, of course…” James sputtered out the words clumsily, before one of her friends walked towards her, and without any form of warning, pulled her towards a corner. James resisted the strongest urge to roll his eyes at the annoying friend;

The girl stood quietly as she listened to her friend rant about something or the other in extensive detail. James patiently waited for her to finish, and come back to him.

And when she did, a smile broke out on his face, managing to show off all 32 of his teeth. He swore he saw the girl smile as well.

“Hey, listen… My friend is having some issues, so I gotta deal with that. Can we put this conversation on hold?” James’ face fell for a moment as he took her words in. This was not fair! At all!

“But… Do you wanna do something fun before I go?”

“I’m always in to do something fun.” He grinned and this time, the girl smiled at him fully.

“In the next three seconds, I’m gonna throw a drink in your face and call you a jerk loud enough for the entire party to hear.

“Oh that's a good pla- wait what?” His voice came out way more high pitched than he wanted it to, but the girl had already put her plan in motion.

“JERK!” The girl yelled, and before James could respond, a cold drink was being thrown on his face, drenching both his skin and his frames.

There were a few gasps and murmurs in the room, as everyone turned to look at the pair. James swore that he heard Peter guffaw. Sirius, on the other hand, was laughing openly, while Remus awkwardly tried to hide his grin with his hand.

James’ mouth opened wide in surprise, and he looked at the girl. Then, a grin broke out on his face. And to his wonder and fortune, she smiled back at him.

“That was fun.” her voice was amused as she set the cup down, while never breaking eye contact with the bespectacled boy.

“See you around, Potter.” Her eyes twinkled, and James swore he could hear his own heartbeat fasten at the speed of light.

Then, she threw him a wink and turned towards the exit, while his eyes kept following her till she was completely out of sight.

James felt as if he was waking up from a daydream. He didn't even know this girl’s name, but the only thing his head could think of was how he was already completely in love with her. What the fuck was happening to him?

It was decided then, He was going to marry this girl someday.

“And that, Harry, is How I met your Aunt Y/N.”

“WHAT?”

likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated <3

[littledes1re]

Hiii, i love your writing. Could you please do one where you and Joel just started dating. And maybe go to a little event or social gathering and he sees a lot of guys looking at you and talking to you and he gets jealous and sad. Thinking you deserve better, younger and he gets insecure. But you make sure he knows you love him. Thanks!!

My Old man

Warnings: Joel is insecure, Age gap!, lots of fluff!!!

It wasn't the first time he'd felt this way. Countless times when you two went out for dinner together or were invited to some event in Jackson, you were stared at. The staring was from young men who wanted to dance with you, who thought you were pretty, hot. But the other old men were staring too. And even the women. They spent the evening gossiping about how the hell you could have landed as a pretty young girl with an old geezer like Joel. Is he holding you hostage? Is he manipulating you? You'd heard it all.

But you never paid attention to this. You were happy with Joel, more than happy. All those other men in Jackson could never give you what Joel gives you.

But Joel still took it to heart.

The looks from others, the gossip. He knew this would happen after he held your hand and said he wanted to be with you. He had his doubts; he never thought you, a beautiful young woman, could ever love him. But you pushed those doubts away every time. You loved him more than anything in this world, and you showed him that, every day.

You saw his face. Pouting and eyebrows furrowed. Deep in thought. This event was a small dance, nothing serious. Joel didn't even want to go, but Maria insisted. Every time any of those men even glanced at you, he got jealous and had a sad face, that looked down on the ground, just thinking. You couldn't bear to look at it much longer.

"Maria, I'm sorry. I'm not feeling well, so Joel and I are leaving early."

You worried Joel with that. He immediately set off alarm bells and asked you if you were okay. When you got home, the questions continued, but you had something else on your mind.

“You mr.miller gonna sit down and we will have a little talk about something.” His face was all confused while you pushed him gently down to the couch, making him sit down.

You sat down on the coffee table in front of him, his sweet eyes never leaving you, like an obedient puppy.

“Baby. My old man. There is nothing in this world that I want more than you. And only you.” You could see his face drop and even heart drop at that.

He sighed into the room, looked at you with a certain exhaustion, and sadness. Uncertainty. "Don't look at me like that, Joel. I mean it, and you should know it."

"Sweetheart, I—I just don't know what you see in me. Heck, these guys that look at you are all fit, they can go with you to those stupid events without whining about their backs, can keep up with you and they don’t have a past.”

You couldn’t believe your ears. You sat up and gently sat down his lap, his cosy pullover hugging you just right.

“I can’t believe you think like that, joel. I don’t care about any of these guys. I don’t care about you ‘not being fit’ which is not true by the way—“ you stopped pointing at his crotch and winking, earning a chuckle from him.

“I don’t even want to go to these stupid events either, look— we went because of maria. Nothing more. Wanted to be home with my man and watch some stupid movies he loves so much.”

“Hey—they ain’t stupid.” He chuckled again.

“Yea yea, whatever. But this is what I really mean joel. Since I came to jackson you were the only one in my eyes. Didn’t care about your past, didn’t care about your back, didn’t care about the fact that you were grumpy—“

“Wait now you are putting extra things in there”

“Sh sh. Didn’t care about any other boys. I saw you and the way you handled things turned me on, your way of demanding, taking care of people, being so stubborn but also the kindest of them all. The one who came to my house because I skipped patrol one day and asked if I was okey.”

His sweet eyes turned glassy, as he held you on your hips and squeezed, letting out a little smile.

“You’re too good to me, baby.”

“Nah, it’s not being good, i’m telling the truth.” You nodded, gently stroking his hair, playing with his curls. “Of course, everything is going slower, of course there are things that you can’t actively do. But I love it just because of that. I enjoy slow evenings on the porch with you. I enjoy waking up late and drinking black coffee that tastes like poison—“ he let out a giggle.

“And I love your wood carvings, your handsome face, your white hair that suits you so much, that grumpy face you always make whenever you need to read something with your glasses.”

You looked into each other’s eyes, he leaned in and connected your lips.

“Can’t believe I have you, baby. My pretty girl.” He cupped your face softly, giving you a peck on your forehead.

“Promise me you are gonna stop having these thoughts about yourself.”

“Can’t really stop them, but I will try and do my best from letting them get me.” He whispered, nodding his head to you.

You put your forehead to his and looked into his beautiful brown eyes, the world around you going silent.

“I love you, joel.”

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

Taglist: @vickie5446 @a-goose-on-mars @thatgirlmendo @ihearttdilfs @pickyeater13 @sweetiegirl16 @keseqna @shivispunk @kyloispunk @meetmeatyourworst @joelmillerswife9 @iveseenstrangerthings50 @idrkman @cuntyhunty22

[havecouraqe]

Reconnection

Pairing: Go Hyuntak x fem!reader

Summary: Having known of Hyuntak from his training days of Tae Kwon Do, you never thought you'd run into him again. What started as admiration from afar quickly turned into the beginning of something more.

Word count: 3.8k

Warnings: Bullying, profanity, mentions of blood. Nothing but fluff towards the end.

A/N: Part 1 ☆ Part 2 ☆ Part 3

After Hyuntak left yesterday, you didn't know what to think. He has your number now and continues to offer to walk you home after school. Did that make you and him friends? Friends can softly caress the side of your face, right? They can also call you cute. They can hold hands and lean towards one another, eyes looking at their plump lips, imagining how they would taste and—

You shook your head, gently slapping your cheeks to get the daydream out of your mind. The new day had forecast cloudy weather, and you shoved your hands into the pockets of your jacket, holding on to one of the small hand warmers. As you continued your walk to school, anxiety slowly crept its way into you. Having no idea how the girls would react, it felt best to act like nothing even happened.

The minute you stepped foot into the school, however, all you heard was gossip. Slut. Whore. Bitch. This didn't surprise you. Although Hyuntak wasn't the most coveted boy from his school, the first being Baku, he was still extremely popular with some of the girls and even boys. So you've heard.

You kept your head down, making your way to homeroom until someone pushed you straight into the lockers. The loud sound startled some of the girls who turned to look at the scene. You winced in pain, the combination lock had hit your upper arm, and you held on to it before looking back at the girl who did this to you.

Yuna. She was a well-known bully in the school, her group of followers too scared of her to think for themselves. Her parents owned a bunch of hotels around the city, so she pretty much got whatever she wanted. With the way she's glaring at you now, you got the idea that Hyuntak was just another thing of wants on her list.

"Hey," she spat. "What's the deal with you and Go Hyuntak?"

You straightened up, adjusting the shoulder strap on your backpack. "Nothing."

Yuna laughed. "Liar. We know he went home with you last night."

"We're just friends."

"Well, stay away from him." She snapped. "If I see you two together again, you better watch yourself."

The girl turned on her heels, her minions following close behind. What the hell was that? You scoffed, having expected the name calling, but you didn't take Yuna as one to resort to violence. Her way was mostly picking on someone from a distance. You groaned, the pain of your bruised arm coming back into focus.

Walking into class, your best friend, Ja-in, was busy trying to pass another level of a game on her phone. She must have heard your presence when you sat down at the desk next to hers because she said without looking up, "Hey, y/n, don't think you're off the hook from what happened with Gotak yesterday. We want to know everything."

"Don't worry," you said, rubbing your arm. "Yuna beat you to it." You laughed at your own pun in your head.

Soo-ah, another close friend who sat in front of you noticed. "What happened? Did she hurt you?"

You shook your head. "No, just pushed me into the lockers."

"What?" Ja-in whipped around to face you, forgetting her game. "Did you fight back?"

"And risk getting suspended? Of course not."

Even though you haven't really practiced Tae Kwon Do after hearing about Hyuntak's knee injury, you were confident in remembering enough for basic self-defense. It wasn't something you'd ever thought to use, though. Your life was pretty mundane. Until now.

"What did she say?" Soo-ah asked you.

"To stay away from him."

Ja-in scoffed, "Hey, the nerves of that girl. Just because she's rich, she thinks she can have whatever she wants."

"Guys, it's fine. I'm sure she'll forget about it eventually. People like her have a shiny new toy almost every week."

"Are you going to see him again today? Gotak?" Soo-ah questioned.

You became aware that the class had fallen silent. It wasn't a full room since school hadn't started yet, but you didn't want the rumors to pick back up again. So you lied, shaking your head no. Your friends only nodded, understanding that this would be a conversation for a later time. As the class started filling up, you unzipped your backpack and focused on your academics for the rest of the day. It was also a good distraction from thinking about Hyuntak and how you were going to see him later.

◇

Ja-in and Soo-ah came rushing to find you at your last class after the last bell. As you were putting notebooks into your bag, they quickly scooped you up from your desk, leading you to one of the class windows overlooking the front of the school. "Hey, what are you two doing?"

"Look!"

You stared out, and because you were on the second floor of the school, it didn't take long for you to see them. Hyuntak and Baku were standing across the street at the front of the school. What were they both doing here? This was bad. You were sure Yuna had heard by now and was probably waiting for you out front.

"Shit." You said under your breath.

"Maybe Yuna already left." Soo-ah hoped.

Ja-in laughed. "I wouldn't count on it."

With one last look at Hyuntak, you turned away and grabbed your stuff. "Let's go."

The walk to the entrance was nerve-wracking, but you held your head high. You decided that whatever happened, you didn't want Hyuntak or Baku to get involved. This was your fight, especially if it came down to that. But you hoped it didn't.

Stepping outside, Yuna and her posse were waiting for you. They were blocking your way. Trying to look unfazed, you stared at her. "Hey, move."

When she didn't, you tried again. "I said m—”

Yuna fisted your uniform, pulling you around and throwing you into her mob of followers. Without having time to react, they dragged you further into the courtyard, yanking your hair while others threw punches at you. Before raising your arms to protect your face, you saw Soo-ah run off while Ja-in tried to help you. Two of the minions held on to her as she screamed in protest. "y/n!"

You fell to the ground, your lip busted, and felt the kicks begin. You struggled for breath when one of the girls landed her foot on your stomach, knocking the wind out of you. Yuna walked towards you with her arms crossed, "I told you to stay away from him. Stand her up."

Two pairs of hands grabbed either side of you, bringing you to your feet. You felt dizzy, and your vision was a bit blurry. Looking at Yuna as she stepped closer, anger started building up inside of you. Waiting for the right moment, you used the support of the two girls holding you up to land a jump front kick straight to her face.

She screamed, stumbling back and bent over in pain. You were breathing heavily and saw that a crowd had formed when some of the girls cheered. A few of them even held out their phones, capturing the fight. When Yuna got her composure, this time she yelled out with rage. Blood ran down her nose as she charged towards you with a fist. You closed your eyes, ready to take the punch, only for it to not land on your face. You heard people gasped and opened your eyes.

Hyuntak held Yuna's wrist inches away from you. You looked at his face, and you've never seen him so angry. He glared at her, his chest heaving up and down. Shoving her hand away, his words came out as a threat, "Do you have a death wish?"

"What?" Yuna chuckled in confusion or shock, maybe both.

He glanced at you and then looked back at her, "Five against one is unfair, don't you think?" His voice came out through gritted teeth. It was only then that you realized just how much he was trying to control himself. 

“And what are you doing to do? Hit me?” She mocked. 

Up above, a voice was heard from one of the windows. "Hey! What's going on down there?"

That was everyone's cue to disband. Not looking to get into trouble, the two girls holding you let go as they ran. You almost fell over if it weren't for Hyuntak catching you and holding you in place. Ja-in and Soo-ah ran up to you full of worry.

"y/n! Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." You tried walking but failed. Feeling lightheaded, you let Hyuntak support you. 

Baku's voice came from behind them. "Gotak, the taxi is here."

Hyuntak hadn't said a word, all the while looking at you. Still holding on to you, he turned around and bent down a bit. Looking over his shoulder, he only said, "Get on."

Too tired to argue, you wrapped your arms over his neck, holding on tight as he lifted you up, his arms supporting your legs wrapped around his waist. His back felt warm and strong as you rested against him. When he turned you around, you saw that most of the courtyard was empty and Yuna had left.

"Thank you for coming to get me." Hyuntak said to Soo-ah. He then looked at Ja-in. "And thank you for trying to help her."

"Will you let us know as soon as she's alright?" Soo-ah asked.

"Of course."

"Take care of her, please." You heard Ja-in say.

You couldn't see his expression, but he only nodded. Your friends said goodbye to you as Hyuntak and Baku started walking towards the taxi. Once inside, you leaned against him, your eyes closed and sleep beginning to take over. Baku, who had been busy putting all of the bags into the trunk, hopped in and urgently said to the driver, "Please take us to the nearest hospital."

Hyuntak looked you over, moving your hair away from your face. His hands felt rough but gentle as he took in your injuries. You lightly shivered when his thumb touched over your bruised lips. You also had a few scratches from the girls' nails, and your body ached. A lot. Looking up at him, you leaned further into his touch. The look on his face was a mix of pain and worry. He hated seeing you like this.

“She's going to be okay, Gotak.” Baku reassured him.

The last thing you heard before drifting off to sleep was Hyuntak's soft voice saying, “I know. She's a fighter. That's what I like about her.”

◇

Your eyes fluttered open, the bright light blinding you for a moment. Taking in your surroundings, the hospital room was quiet apart from the beeping of the monitor, keeping your vitals in check. Your arm felt heavy and found Hyuntak leaning over the edge of the bed sleeping on a chair, his head down and arm over yours. Feeling emotional that he didn't leave, you reached over and ran your fingers through his hair. He stirred awake, lifting his head and widening his eyes when he saw that you awoke. 

“y/n. How are you feeling?”

“I'm grand.” You winced, trying to sit up. Your joke didn’t seem to land as he helped you.

Sighing, you looked at him, “I'm okay. Really. What did the doctor say?”

Hyuntak sat back down. “Apart from the scratches and bruises, he thinks you'll be fine. He said you'll be sore and to watch out for a possible concussion.”

“Did they call my dad?”

“They couldn't reach him.”

“Probably for the best. I wouldn't want him to worry if it's nothing serious.”

You saw him bite his tongue, looking away. “What?”

“You're in a hospital, and you think it's nothing serious?” He said, frowning.

“Considering it's not life or death, no, it's not.”

He looked at you incredulously. And then, he started laughing. Throwing his head back, you watched as he tried to catch his breath. You didn't know how to feel, much less what to say, so you just listened to the sound of his laughter, trying to commit it to memory.

“At first, I thought trouble went looking for you,” he smiled, petting your head, “but it looks like you're the one that goes looking for it.” 

“Shut up.” You rolled your eyes.

The door to your room opened, and Baku walked in, carrying your backpack.

“Hey. How are you doing?”

“I'm alright.” You smiled. “Thank you for your help today.”

“I'm just sorry we have to keep meeting like this. Even if seeing you kick that girl in the face was badass.” Baku grinned. “The doctor said you can leave whenever you're ready.”

Hearing the good news, you began to get up. The boys left to let you get changed, and you checked your phone once you had your uniform and jacket back on. Ja-in and Soo-ah had sent you messages checking in on you. You quickly replied, saying you were okay and on your way home. Exiting the hospital, the day had turned to night during your slumber. You checked the time and saw it was almost eight.

“I'll be heading home first.” Baku said.

Hyuntak hugged him tightly. “Thanks for sticking around.”

“And miss all the fun? Come on, you know me better than that.” He turned to you, leaning down to your level. “If he gets out of line, you give him one of those kicks for me, would you?” You both laughed.

“Hey, Park Hu-min! What are you saying?” Hyuntak objected, playfully punching his friend.

Baku dodged, striding away, only turning around to yell back, “See you tomorrow!” 

“Ah, that guy.” He shook his head, hands on his hips.

You smiled and started walking in the direction of your home when you were pulled back from the sleeve of your jacket.

“Where are you going, troublemaker?” Hyuntak questioned.

“Home.” You stated, ignoring the new nickname. 

He shook his head. “It's too far. My place is closer.”

“I can call a taxi.”

“And who's going to take care of you if you get a concussion?”

You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came out. You wanted to argue, saying you'll be fine. But then you recall his words from yesterday. How he wants to be there for you. You knew you would do the same for him in a heartbeat, so you gave in.

“Okay.” You nodded.

“Are you okay to walk, or should I carry you again?” 

You felt embarrassed at his question for some reason and quickly said, “I can walk.”

He nodded, grabbing your backpack from your hands. His own was already on his back, so he just slung yours over his shoulder. 

“It's not far,” He said softly, feeling his free hand grab yours. Blushing, you looked up at him, “Is this alright?”

Nodding your head, Hyuntak started leading you towards his home. The night air was chilly, so you leaned closer to him for warmth. You both were lost in thought, but it was a comfortable silence, the noise of the city filling in. His hand felt secure, holding yours like you might disappear. After a few blocks, he led you up to his apartment. Opening the door, you excused yourself as you stepped in. It was surprisingly spacious.

“Are your parents home?” You wondered.

“Mom's working a night shift at a clinic. She won't be back till late morning.” He set the backpacks down and turned towards you. “I'll lend you some of my clothes. My room is down the hall, first door on the right.”

Taking off your shoes, you slowly made your way. Opening the door and turning on the light, you caught your breath at the sight before you. Tae Kwon Do trophies lined up on one side of his room above his dresser. You walked towards them and noticed he had some various medals hung around the mirror. Reaching up, you twirled one with your hand, admiring it.

“Are you thirsty?”

You whipped around and saw Hyuntak standing at the doorway, holding a glass of water. He was expressionless as he walked in and offered it to you. Taking it, you watched him as he looked for something. He grabbed his blue hoodie and a pair of clean sweatpants from his closet.

“These are going to fit too big on you.” He finally smiled. 

“It's okay.” You smiled back.

Leaving you to it, you took off everything apart from your underwear. Slipping on his hoodie, which was slowly becoming your favorite, you inhaled his scent. It relaxed you and brought you comfort even though it was too big on you, going past your waist. You thought about not even wearing the sweatpants, but nerves got the better of you. You tied your hair up in a bun with a hair tie you found in the pocket of your uniform. Pushing back the sleeves to free your hands, you opened the door.

Finding him in the kitchen, the aroma of ramen made your stomach growl. He turned to look at you and chuckled, “I figured you'd be hungry since we practically missed dinner.”

You starred at him, your eyes traveling down from his face and saw that he had changed clothes as well, settling for some basketball shorts and a loose black t-shirt. Sitting down at the kitchen counter, you found him staring at you too, “What?”

“Blue looks lovely on you.”

“I like it better on you.” You blushed, looking down.

Hyuntak smiled warmly, placing the bowl of noodles in front of you. He sat across from you, and you both began to eat. You ate with gusto, feeling satisfied with the delicious meal. He watched and smiled to himself. After taking a bite, he spoke up.

“Who was that girl you were fighting?”

You blinked, not expecting his question. Swallowing the remaining food in your mouth, you drank some water before answering. “Yuna. The most popular girl in the school.”

“Why did she start the fight?”

“She wanted me to stay away from you.” You shrugged.

“How come?”

That made you laugh, “I'll ask her that next time I'm smashing her nose in.”

He remained silent, deep in thought. You looked at him, a bit surprised. Did he seriously mean his question? He had to know what some of the girls thought of him, right? How they all wanted to date him or just hook up if they could. You hesitated before saying, “Almost everyone at school thinks you're amazing.”

“They do?”

You nodded.

There was a moment of silence until he asked, “Is that what you think too?”

“Yes.” You confessed, unable to look at him. “Even before we met at training, I always thought of you as amazing.” 

Hyuntak's heart swelled with love at your words. He got up and came around to pull you in for a hug. Wrapping your arms around him like you did last time, you pulled him in closer. You felt his chin rest at the top of your head and place a hand at the back of it.

“I think you're amazing too.”

His warmth engulfed you, compared to the coldness of the rain when he hugged you last time. He had this aura about him that just made you want to trust him. His eyes, so kind and inviting towards you. The more you got to know him, the more you realized you've never met anyone like him before. People like Hyuntak don't come around very often.

Eventually, he pulls back, lightly pinching your cheek, “Are you sleepy yet?”

“A little.” You giggled. 

“I set an extra toothbrush in the bathroom across my room for you. I can also make you some hot chocolate to help you sleep. Go get some rest, and I'll be there shortly.”

You quickly brushed your teeth and went back to his room, taking the opportunity to look around more. There were a few basketball trophies above his desk on the other side. Further down, some workout equipment, like a jump rope, lay on the floor. He had some books here and there, a Bluetooth stereo, and other little knick knacks. Overall, his room reflected him down to a tee.

When Hyuntak came back, you took the mug and sat on his bed, legs crossed. He grabbed his basketball, tossing it from hand to hand as he sat down on his desk chair. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

“My friends will want to know how I am, so I'll probably invite them over.” You took a sip of your drink.

“Since it'll be Saturday, it's a good idea to take it easy.”

“We don't go out much. I'm more of a homebody.”

Hyuntak nodded.

“Do you go out a lot?” You asked.

“Sometimes. My friends and I do volunteer work from time to time. Either that or we just hang out playing basketball or catch up at Baku's dad's restaurant.”

It was your turn to nod. You finished your drink and watched as he took it and placed it on his desk.

“You can sleep in here,” he said. “I'll take the couch.”

“Won't you be uncomfortable?”

A teasing smile crept up on his face, “Where do you suggest I sleep then?”

“In your room.” You tried not to notice his smirk. “I can sleep on the couch.”

That upset him. “In your condition? Don't be ridiculous.”

You tried staring him down, and he sighed. “I can see where this is going to go.”

To your disbelief, he turned off the light and walked over to the empty side of his bed. He undid the covers and sat down, turning to look at you. “Is this okay with you?”

Swallowing hard, you quietly let out a yes, unsure if he heard it.

“Come here.”

You crawled in next to him under the covers, your heart beating fast. Both of you were on your side, facing each other. With the little bit of light coming in from his window, you were able to see his face. His hand moved a strand of hair behind your ear, eyes never leaving yours.

“You're so pretty.” He whispered.

Melting at his words, you felt brave to move closer to him. You placed your forehead against his chest, and he welcomed you, wrapping his arms around you. His heart was beating fast, just like yours. Sleep started taking over, and you tried to fight it, not wanting to go just yet.

“Hyuntak,” you said softly, “I really like you.”

You felt his soft lips press against your forehead. Overcome with emotion, Hyuntak pulled you in closer.

“I really like you too, y/n.”

“Hmm,” you humed with a smile, too tired to say anything else. You drifted off to sleep, safe and sound in his arms.

a/n: Thank you all for reading. Reblogs and likes are appreciated :)

Taglist: @snowflakemoon3 , @l5byrinth , @hollxe1

[rubykgrant]

(my parents were both raised different kinds of Christian, but by the time they got together and had me, it was just this vague "culturally Christian" but generally agnostic and secular kind of thing. we didn't go to church except for special events if somebody invited us, and I grew up learning about bible stories along with history/science and a variety of folklore/mythology. it was never a conflict for little-kid-me to believe in God but also know that evolution was definitely real, and I was comfortable thinking "God made everything, including evolution", and I kinda distrusted anything that denied facts using religion... I also got really annoyed when I was little when somebody would try to "convert" me into being MORE Christian, or tried to use religion to punish people/dictate how EVERYBODY should live. I could understand and respect people, from different beliefs, who were very devout and dedicated for themselves, it just didn't see, fair to impose that on others. like, I definitely grew up in a community that puts Christianity in the spot-light and celebrated mostly Christian holidays, but it wasn't an intense thing in my home, and I was at least mildly aware of the world outside of Christianity. I remember being like 6, and met this older kid when I was playing in a field, and she started talking about bible stories... and the kid and her mom got mad at me for saying there HAD to be more people besides Adam and Eve because then they could only make more people by generations of incest and that wouldn't work. oh yeah, I knew the basis of where babies came from really young, too. I was the "Christian" kid all the other Christian parents hated- I told kids about evolution/where babies came from/"satanic things" and witchcraft/other religious stuff I'd heard about. also I knew what abortion was and thought it was OK by the time I was 9. this isn't me bragging about how "perfect" my hippy-agnostic-secular-but-still-Christian up-bringing was, my family was flawed in many ways and I am NOT morally superior to anybody else, and because I was still raised culturally Christian it is in the background of everything; but this is just part of the bigger picture to when I met people in their 30s who were never allowed to watch the Simpsons because it was "evil and sinful" meanwhile I had been watching that with my parents because to us it was a "family show". like, it's just funny how WEIRD my childhood was compared to more conventionally Christian homes. in college, within the same WEEK, I had two different conversations with two different guys; one wanted me to PROVE God was real, the other wanted me to PROVE evolution was real... I was just like, I don't need to? you don't need me to? you can be atheist/religious respectively. it's fine. they were more baffled that I didn't care)

(These are the more common ones i can name off the top of my head, just curious)

[revolutionsingingintherainnn]

i've seen a lot of people talk about lando fans needing to touch grass because we're mad about that picture, but you don't understand why we're mad. honestly, i have no reason to this, but i do need to get this off my chest.

a lot of lando fans (myself included) tried to ignore the way mclaren has been treating lando off track, as well as on track. we're not going to touch the subject of on track here. we're only talking about off track here. their instagram page has more oscar/oscar's car or joint pictures than that of just lando. they do post lando, but it's always in the second or the third slide. it's not the front of it, so it looks like they're posting oscar more.

now, the issue with that picture is that its fine that they clicked the picture. mistakes happen, oscar saw that he was covering lando, and he moved over for another picture where lando was visible as well. so, we, as fans, know that there are two versions of that picture that exists. what bothers us is that they not only posted it on their instagram with a heartfelt team related caption, but also made it their twitter header.

now, the instagram thing could have gone multiple different ways than the one mclaren chose to do it. they could have added a funny caption instead, or they couldn't done a little drawing of lando, just something cute, something funny, something that feels included. instead, they chose a picture where lando is completely covered. like, when i first saw the picture, i didn't even notice that lando was behind oscar. so, they chose that picture, they chose that caption, and on top of that, they chose to only tag one driver out of the two drivers they have.

and then, to go on and make that picture their twitter header? knowing full well that there is a version of that same moment where lando is, in fact, visible? that speaks volumes.

it took them over 2k comments on instagram before they changed their header picture on twitter, and before they tried to do damage control by posting lando more.

i'm not saying that the team should stop posting oscar or something. do not twist my words. i'm saying that there should be a balance of how much they post each driver, and if they're posting a team picture, it should include the entire team.

seeing that picture, as a lando fan, it is really disheartening. to us, it feels like the team have forgotten him, or put him on the back burner. to us, it feels like they have a bias and they're not being subtle about it. it kills us because we have seen lando hold his team higher than himself, work for the team instead of himself, count every win as the team's, and every loss as his own. we have seen lando do that for years, but mclaren seem to have completely left him in the trenches.

for every "mentally weak" comment regarding lando that comes up in the press, there are other drivers and other teams that are saying it's not true and are defending lando. his own team never say a word. for every mistake or bad quali/race position, lando blames himself and mclaren let him take the brunt of it from the media and the fans, and then a week later, come out with a small article somewhere about how it was actually the team's fault, not lando's.

people underestimate the power of social media sometimes. you think it's not a big deal that lando's being posted, just in the second or the third slide? sponsors only look at the face. the face on their instagram page is not lando. the way they're promoting both drivers differently is clear, and it's clear because that what we're seeing, what's being shown to us. mclaren are trying to be subtle about it, but their subtlety left the conversation a long time ago.

the narratives that they push about lando being weak, having reached his highest potential already, buckling under pressure, all of it could be debunked if the team spoke out about it and supported their driver. they're not, so these narratives are being shoved down people's throats. the hate comments on their own instagram posts are vile, and it doesn't take that long to put out a statement that those need to stop, that the fans don't know what's going on behind the scenes, and that the fans have no right to judge a driver on things they can't do. it's not that difficult, but it really seems like mclaren would rather burn to the ground than support their driver.

i don't expect everyone to understand this. i know there's going to be people who come at me and say that i'm being a conspiracy theorist or i'm overthinking this or whatever. but, if you haven't seen a person, or have been a person, who has given your all to someone or something, and get close to nothing in return, this is the type of behaviour that cannot be ignored.

[strawberrysohn]

"if you want forever (i bet you do)" | taste — jjk (pt 2)

series summary: your best friend (with benefits) has a new girlfriend...little does she know, you were and would always be there first.

what to expect for this part: fuckbuddy! jk, y/n is still a bad person (what are morals anyway), cheating, oral (m receiving), whiny! jk (!!!), again feel free to imagine 2018/2019 jungkook for this <3

also!! y/n is described to have dyed blonde hair & hair with strands that can be tugged on. just a heads up for readers with different hair textures :)

again no word count...a lot of words.

enjoy :)

"what do you see in her?"

jungkook shrugs. "she's pretty, nice," he thinks of all his favorite features of his girlfriend, siyeon. "she cares about me. she's really gentle too. she's just a good soul."

y/n nods, trying to seem interested while also trying not to yawn. "how nice," she speaks. she sits back further on the bed, his monitor screen more visible to her now.

she loved to watch him play video games. it was fun for him because he enjoyed his little games, and fun for her because she found all the little noises he made whenever he got shot endearing. the hushed whispers of 'shit', the hisses and groans...he got really into it. plus, telling him he could play was just a really subtle way to get him in the mood. and the more she distracted him with questions, the worse he would do in the game. and the worse he did, the more he'd rage quit. and then he was all hers.

"are you jealous of siyeon?" jungkook asks, smirking a little.

y/n can't hold in the laugh this time. "are you joking? absolutely not, try the opposite." she shakes her head as she flips through her magazine. "she's gotta be jealous of me. you saw, yesterday when i came up to you guys, right?"

it was quite funny, seeing the way siyeon clutched onto jungkook as soon as y/n walked up to him after class had ended. all she wanted was to ask a homework question (and maybe piss off siyeon a little...), and her very presence near jungkook had siyeon eyeing her up from head to toe and everywhere in between. it was, as y/n loved to say, pathetic.

"you're reading too much into that, y/n," jungkook chuckles at his friend. "she barely acknowledged you."

"she was clutching onto you like she was a dog and i had come to steal away her favorite chew toy."

"you're being dramatic."

"and you're being delusional." y/n retorts, sitting her magazine down.

jungkook groans as his character is eliminated. since he has time before next round, he turns around his swivel chair to face her. "maybe you're right," he says, causing y/n to perk up a little. "she does get a little...nervous whenever you come around. even when i bring you up. it's weird."

"yeah?" god, she liked where this was going. "how weird? tell me."

jungkook takes a moment to recall before he speaks again. "this morning, as i was leaving her place, i told her i was having you over. she got this really flushed look on her face...like i had really said something crazy. she asked what we were gonna be doing and i just shrugged because i didn't know yet. siyeon let out a really shaky breath...it was weird."

y/n listens intently, trying not to look as victorious as she felt right then. "oh wow," she says nonchalantly. "that is weird."

jungkook nods as he continues. "yeah, and then she asked if she could come with...like, she was willing to take off work to hang out with us."

y/n places a hand over her mouth in fake shock, but also to hide her growing smirk. she feared if she tried to say anything else, a laugh would come out instead, so she just sits and listens.

"i told her maybe next time, on a day when she's not working," jungkook explains. "maybe after class one day. would you be okay with that?"

y/n shrugs, feeling her eyes brimming with tears from holding in her laughter for this long. luckily, jungkook had turned back around to play his game again so he couldn’t see. "sure, why the hell not, right?"

"i'm glad you see it that way!" jungkook's smile is evident in his voice. "i can't wait...my two favorite ladies in one place!"

y/n can't help but roll her eyes at his enthusiasm for something that very well would not ever happen. she looks back on the past, when she was his only favorite girl, and she didn't have anybody trying to compete with her. it was less complicated but it was also way less fun.

she looks at the back of his head while he plays, seeing the soft fluffiness to his hair today. she watches as he leans over to grab his can of soda and take a drink. then, he's back to clicking away at his keyboard, his nimble fingers working hard to get him the win.

"jungkookie?"

"hmmmm?"

"do you see a future with siyeon?"

the question makes jungkook actually pause his game. he faces forward for a few more seconds before turning around again to look at y/n.

"a future..." he thinks, his top lip coming over his bottom lip as he concentrates. "well, sure."

"yeah? how long?" y/n was curious now, wondering if he'd actually thought about this or if he was just thinking off the top of his head right now because she asked.

"i don't know," jungkook hums in thought. "as long as we could make it work, i guess."

"and what about you and i during that time, hm? she watches as his expression changes. "what would we be doing?"

jungkook thinks about the best way to answer this question. he looks at y/n, his best friend, sat back against his headboard, looking gorgeous as ever. the way her tight baby pink top fit her gorgeously and her beautiful legs were on display. of course he had to notice the way she spread them, probably on purpose, as he stared. he blinked and met her eyes.

"i think we'd still be friends."

y/n stifles a laugh and nods. "okay," she could tell he was hesitant to answer realistically, but she let it slide. she tucks her legs up to change position, not ignoring the way his eyes followed her every move. she crawls over to him, slowly. "just friends...?" she sits right in front of him, looking at him as her legs dangle off the bed.

"y-yes," he replies. "we wouldn't be, um, you know..." jungkook trails off.

"we wouldn't be fucking anymore, huh?" y/n fake pouts at him. "good thing this is only hypothetical. we both know you can't resist me."

"y/n–"

"you know she doesn't understand you like i do, right?" she interrupts him and his mouth goes zip. "she doesn't. she couldn't possibly get you the way that i do. i mean, have you two even had sex?"

"we have," jungkook answers, quickly and swiftly enough for her to know it wasn't true. "what does it matter?"

y/n shakes her head and laughs. "god, jungkookie, this is honestly quite sad." she sighs, having way too much fun.

"what is?" he frowns, her laughing only making him more confused. he just wanted to play his game and spend time with his friend, what was so bad about that?

"you're dating some diner maid bitch who genuinely has nothing appealing about her, except maybe her body, and you haven't even fucked her yet? it's sad."

jungkook feels his face heat up. "don't talk about my girlfriend like that, please." he speaks, trying to sound stern.

"she's literally beyond boring, and she doesn't have anything in common with you," y/n continues, ignoring jungkook's plea. "there's no way she could ever begin to get you, really."

"y/n, i don't wanna get into this," jungkook shakes his head, standing up from his gaming chair and approaching her. "okay? i don't wanna talk about this with you. i get that you don't like siyeon but you don't have to be mean, okay?"

"i get you, jungkook," y/n looks up at him, rising to her feet. her hands find his biceps and she waits for his hands to find her waist like they always do. "you hear me? i get you."

jungkook's hands tentatively find her waist, like they always do, though this time his grip isn't as strong. he looks her in the eyes, his heart racing in his chest "i-i know you do, y/n."

"good boy," she smiles and reaches up to pet his hair, watching as his eyelids flutter at the feeling and the praise. his gaze lingers on her lips for a few seconds before he leans in slowly.

"n-need you so bad..." he whisper against her lips.

"i know."

their lips meet and the kiss is messy, yet passionate. jungkook's grip on her hips tightens to it's usual roughness as the kiss deepens.

jungkook pulls away at last, breathing hard, his eyes darkened. y/n meets his eyes with an innocent expression.

"jungkookie..." she hums his name in her usual sing-songy tone. "why don't you lay back on the bed and let me show you just how much i understand your needs, hm?"

his eyes widen in childlike wonder and he nods, sitting on the edge of the bed and crawling upward so he was all the way against the headboard.

y/n smirks at his eagerness and crawls up with him, her eyes glowing with devious intent. "good boy, jungkookie...so good always." he gulps at her words, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink. "aw, baby...you're blushing." she coos at his reaction and he groans in embarrassment.

"whatever, just," jungkook blinks and looks away. "do something, please."

y/n smirks and hums, reaching for the waistband of his sweatpants. she hears him gasp, caught off guard by the sudden movement.

"w-wait, you're gonna...?" he looks at her hands on his waistband and the gleam in her eyes and lays his head back against the pillow. "shit, y/n, really? you know i can't hold back when you—"

"you talk too much, jungkookie," y/n pipes up, and his mouth goes zip. she smirks. she loved how quickly she could shut him up. she pulls his sweatpants down after he lifts his hips off the bed to help. jungkook hisses when the cool air hits his length, its tip already leaking for her.

y/n grabs his base, earning a small whine from him as he watches her actions. she begins to stroke his length, her manicured nails ever so often rubbing against him, making him shiver. "g-god, y/n, don't do that with the nails, okay?" he begs softly and she complies, only because she had more things in store.

"relax, jungkookie..." y/n smiles warmly at her friend, innocently even. she looks back down at his cock, rock hard and leaking. he looked so pathetic like this, it made her toes curl. "let me take care of you, baby, hm?"

"p-please..." he whispers under his breath, watching as she moves her face closer to where he needed her most.

she begins with just his tip, entering it in her mouth, sucking softly. he groans from above her on the bed..it was clear he could get off from any kind of pleasure right now.

then, she takes in half of him, her cheeks hollowed out as she sucks him off agonizingly slow.

"b-baby, please, your mouth is so good, but–ah need more..." he whines again, the sound pleasing y/n's ears.

finally, she gives in and takes all of him in her mouth, his tip hitting the back of her throat. jungkook lets out a guttural moan, throwing his head back against the pillow, his eyes screwing shut. "o-oh my god, y/n..."

she keeps a steady pace as she sucks his cock, gagging ever so often when his tip would hit her throat. her hands rest on his muscular thighs as she listens to his pathetic whining.

"y/n, y/n, shit, i–mmph!–fuck–hah–shit..." jungkook's a whining, moaning mess as he tries to resist the urge to buck his desperate hips up into her her perfect mouth. he knew she'd be okay with it, but now it was like a challenge for himself, to see if he could take it.

he watches the way every inch of his cock disappears into her mouth, then reappears again, only to disappear once more. he hears the way she gags ever so often, the idea that he was so big she had to gag on him really boosting his ego.

y/n swirls her tongue around his tip as she sucks, adding extra pleasure. his hands quickly find her hair, messing it up without meaning to as he tugs on the strands, her dark roots finally starting to show from under her bleach blonde hair. his tugging causes her to moan around his length which sends a vibration up his cock.

"fuck, y/n do that again," he tugs on her hair again and she moans around him, the same vibrations return. "oh, shit, i'm s' close...y/n, i-i'm g-gonna cum soon..." he whines, almost whimpers.

she hums around his length, eager to feel him cum down her throat. she deep throats him repeatedly, the gagging sound more constant, since she knew it drove him crazy.

"y/n, y/n, oh, fuck–" jungkook whimpers loudly as he releases down her throat, his eyes rolling back. "shit, baby, take it all..."

y/n swallows every drop, humming happily at the familiar taste on her tongue. she pulls off his cock with a 'pop' and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand.

"you really want forever with a girl who won't even do that for you?"

jungkook meets her eyes and sighs, his chest still rising and falling quickly as he comes down from his release. "n-not right now..." he averts his eyes, realizing what had just happened. they couldn't keep doing this.

"relax, jungkook, i'm only teasing," y/n smiles as she crawls up to lay beside him, her head propped up by her elbow.

"oh...right," jungkook gulps and turns to face her. his cheeks were a light pink. "t-thanks...also..."

she smirks at his quietness. "you're welcome," she hums in response, her free hand toying with his hair. "you're using that conditioner i like, aren't you?" her fingers thread through the slight volume.

"yeah, siyeon likes when i have fluffier hair," jungkook replies absentmindedly. y/n's eye twitches. "i remembered you got this for me so...i bought a new bottle."

how nice, y/n thinks to herself. she continues to play with jungkook's hair, unintentionally (maybe) tugging on the strands a bit, noticing the way he whines softly.

then, there's a knock on the door.

jungkook looks up at y/n, who furrows her brows. he looks at the time and sits up slowly, fixing himself. "it's probably siyeon. try not to look so...vexing." he gestures at her awkwardly before heading out into the main room of his dorm.

y/n stifles a laugh at his clearly flustered state when he answers the door for siyeon, noticing the way his voice waivers a little. she hears a bit of their conversation.

"is she still here?"

"y/n? yeah, she's in my room."

"what did you do all day?"

"just hung out, played video games. why?"

y/n stifles a laugh at the way jungkook dances around the truth. he had gotten much better at lying over the years. she sighs, bored, and decides to make her presence known. she stands up, stretches and slides her shoes back on.

siyeon watches y/n's scandily-clad figure emerges from her boyfriend's bedroom.

"oh, hey, siyeon!" y/n greets with a smile. "wow, love that hat! really fun!" she notices the crocheted hat atop the woman's head, the yellow and orange combo making her insides hurt.

"thanks..." siyeon glances at y/n again before stepping closer to jungkook on instinct. "i had just gotten off of work, so i came over...i hope that's okay."

jungkook nods. "yeah, of course! the more the merrier, right, y/n?" he looks to his friend, who has a hand on her throat, a troubled expression on her face.

"sorry, you two, i'd love to stay and hang but my throat is suddenly killing me," y/n sends a small teasing glance at jungkook who looks away, clenching his jaw. "i better go back to mine and take something." she places a hand on jungkook's arm, bidding farewell, the touch lingering of course. she waves to siyeon who waves back, still clutching onto her man.

"see y'all around! toodles!" y/n sends one last look back at the two of them before heading out, winking at jungkook subtly.

then, she was out.

(i have no beef against crocheting/crocheted hats btw no hate to the crocheting community)

tags:

@bhonbhon @emmie2308 @ttanniett

[eddiesprius]

Still frothing at the mouth about the fact Eddie was projecting “I’m fine” and also insisting on it with Hen and Karen—hell, probably thinking the entire time that he’s so glad they had each other—but letting Buck not only see how hurt and sad he is but also be the one to finally make Eddie shed more than that one little tear at the funeral. And either consciously or unconsciously, he chose to go back home to his person, to where he knew he would be kept afloat by the only person who’s ever loved him so unconditionally (like idk I think Buck definitely wouldn’t have made Eddie getting a firefighting job in El Paso all about himself because Buck has already more or less come to terms with the fact Eddie is never coming back to LA. It’s Eddie who’s still in denial about it, and he probably worried about telling Buck because he doesn’t want Buck to support him in taking the El Paso job. He wants Buck to fight for him to move back to LA with Chris) (and like yeah we all know Eddie won’t be taking that job but god the angst of it all is just!!!)

no like i really do think eddie is lying to himself and lying to buck about the real reason he didn't say anything about the job. and the clues are all in that henren scene. he KNOWSSSSS deep down he does not want to take that job. He KNOWSSSSS it feels right being back in LA the way everything about being in El Paso felt wrong except that he was with Chris. he KNOWSSSS he's putting off returning to El Paso, that he's lingering in LA for reasons he hasn't admitted to himself. he's worried about buck, he doesn't want to be alone in his grief, he doesn't want to leave Buck alone in his. and he still thinks of LA as home, not El Paso.

but literally leaving buck the first time was hard enough and i think eddie STILL has not come to terms with how hard it was for him. he still has not unpacked what "it's not nothing" means. and telling Buck about the job would feel like leaving him all over again and he BARELY managed it the first time and how is he going to manage it again when he's being crushed by grief and he knows buck is too?

[kaiserboom]

𝐈'𝐌 𝐀 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐁𝐎𝐘! 𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐈𝐓!

cw. pure smut, MDNI, sub! sae x fem! reader, brat and brat tamer dynamic??, understimulation? (not really), reader is called an bitch, whore, and other degrading names,(if im missing any warnings pls tell me!),

a/n: omds.. I'm an new writer!! and I decided to start with this.. please spare me if it's isn't the best ^^, help I usaully see people doing dom! sae and I kinda wanted be diff, i think this may be very ooc.. also i gave up at the ending bye pairings: bllk itoshi sae. (x fem! reader)

NOT PROOFREAD

"finally! home sweet home!" you giggled, eye drawn to Sae's movements, watching how he tried get his keys to open the entrance, "babe I got em" he stares at you bluntly, before in an blink of an eye he snatches it off you.

rude.

You and Sae had just finally came back from an party, you fall flat on the bed, letting the bed sheets dangle on your body. groaning and complaining about how everything hurts.

you expected your husband, to comfort you. but all you got was the cold shoulder. he wasn't even looking at you, instead all you got was the view of his back. body facing the mirror while he undo's his stupid tie.

You glanced at him; noticing how he was muttering under his tone. "Sae are you okay?" realizing he wasn't going say anything to you, you faced the courage to walk up to him. hands creeping up his waist, "You know you can tell me anything." his eyes sharply darted at you. "are you fucking serious?" his tone was fuming and you couldn't even figure out why.

you finally look up at him, slightly confuse. "I'm sorry?" you spoke. "What the fuck is your problem" he stares at you, facial expressions curving into an deadpanned look "Are you that much of an whore?" you were about to speak, ask him what the fuck is that meant to mean.

But he interrupted you, not even wanting to hear your side of whatever story you could even try to explain about.

"At that fucking event. you seem to be really close with Shidou?" you were about to speak out, but yet again. Sae cut you off-

"I saw it... almost everyone fucking saw it. at this point, are you his bitch? or mine?" disgusted at what he just said-you managed to finally utter something "no way you had the guts to say that." he looks at you, before raising an eyebrow "and? what if I do?'

smut under the cut- MDNI

the only sounds that filled the room was Sae's slutty babbles and grunts.-you never ever thought you live the day to see an cold, blunt man release a more charming sound like that.

"f-fuck, baby!,-babe" his pathetic voice cracks clearly devouring the pleasure you give him, tears glinting in his eyes due to the way you rode him so well, so delicious, so sloppy. There is no way he wasn't so pussy-drunk, the way your pussy slick dripped upon his harden cock. every time you would rode him.

"shut up" you glance at him, feeling how his cock head brushes again your cervix. your eye twitches showing signs that the delicious pure pleasure is overtaking your body. "i'm-I'm going to fckn'n cum!" his voice guise out an sharp yelp, when you slam your sloppy messy pussy back on his harden cock.

"Don't, Not after how you treated me" his body shudders "baby don't" he cusses out, the way he whines an apology.

you weren't even listening to him, not when your too busy riding his delectable cock. ignoring how much your thighs hurt; from how fast your going.

you didn't want him be in control. because if you did let him you be the fuel to sparky ego.

"don't cum yet." you muttered, his back slightly arches from the bed, with this view, you watch how his eyes roll back. your speed rapidly changes. you can feel your high coming. your body tenses up, hips grinding even more than before; Sae hands creeps up to your waist. trying reduce your movements. "oi- slow down... fuck"

your even closer this time, "Cum with me Sae." he slowly nods closing his eyes, you give him a couple more thrusts on his sensitive cock, right before you feel his. Hot liquids spurts of his seeds quickly shoot out inside of you. your body shudders from the feeling,

you slowly shift into a better position for yourself. feeling your orgasm approaching. your pussy clenches around his grith, earning a sweet moan from him "baby please" he voice is croaky but you still get what he trying to say, "shh sae just one more.. let me cum.." you coo, his nods one last thrust. and you squirted all over his cock. you bite back a moan. Sae stares at you for a moment still catching his breath from his intense orgasm.

out of nowhere he flips you on the bed, you jolt up, looking up at him.

"Round two but this time I'm in control"

[falling-star-cygnus]

Gabin can't be acting perturbed that Tobias wants to sever a critic’s fingers and then turn around to pull a rock the size of a fucking bouncy ball out of his bag

"...what is that?" "A rock."

"Where did you get a rock?" "I always have a rock." "You just- walk around Paris with a giant rock..?"

if no one else utilizes this information in fanfics, TRUST that i will. and that i have ↓ ao3 fic: here please leave a comment or reblog if you enjoyed!!!

It always smelled nice, after it rained.

At least, Tobias thought so. There was something about the freshness about it, or the way the clouds hung around afterwards, that set something loose in his chest.

Or maybe it was the breeze? Or how the clouds dimmed everything down from harsh, too bright, too loud, LOOK AT ME buildings and signs to something tolerable- something he could keep his head up in.

But Paris was always kind of dim like that. Sort of. He didn't know if it was like that everywhere in Paris. Maybe he should google it later-

Either way- the only thing he didn't quite like was the stickiness in the air afterwards, the one that made the skin around his eyes tight and puffy.

Oh- and the puddles, he did not care for the puddles.

But still largely a positive.

"Top Gun, you are making the scrunchy-face," Gabin says from beside him, and his hand moves as if to gesture at said 'scrunchy face' and-

"Cheyenne called it that too," Tobias turns towards his.. his something, to the person he was holding hands with, "Is it really scrunchy? No one ever called it that in New York."

His hand tightens around Gabin's, without his permission.

Which was rude of it, he thought, considering he also liked to think that he was in charge of his body. But apparently not. So. Whatever.

"What did they call it in New York?"

If the dancer noticed, he didn't say anything. But he also didn't try and gesture with that hand again.

Little victories. Or a big victory?

"I don't really think they called it anything," he says.

If they did, he never heard it.

Gabin makes one of his french humming noises- acknowledging and playful and a little thoughtful. This one was a bit lower than his 'what the hell are you talking about' noise.

"It is a cute face," the dancer decides on, which- what? "But worrying also, because it usually means you are thinking about something."

Oh.

Tobias looks down at his chest when it decides to do a funny little lurch thing, like falling when you're right on the edge of sleep. But- warmer? Stabbier?

He'd never had someone.. know things about him before. Know his habits and faces and ticks. Not even with Kevin.

Although Kevin did know he liked tortillas. Was that niche information? Did that count?

It was weird, regardless. To be known. But not- bad weird. Even with the stab metaphor.

Could there be a good stab metaphor?

"And there it is again."

"Hm?"

"What do you mean 'hm?', Tobias, the face."

"What face?"

Usually, he never knew how much he's irritated a person until after they'd already rolled their eyes and walked away. There was a limit to how much he could forget or gloss over in a conversation, he knew that.

He didn't know where that limit was.

He didn't know if it even existed within Gabin.

The dancer closes his eyes, excruciatingly similar to all the other faces he'd seen, and stops walking. His chest lurches again, in a distinctly unpleasent way.

But- it just looked like Gabin was fighting a smile. A whoosh of air escapes his nose as he drags his hand- the one not still snugly intertwined with his- down his face.

"May I?" he asks, reaching for Tobias' face. But not touching yet.

Waiting. Hovering.

It's startling, he doesn't expect it, he doesn't know how to deal with things he can't expect- but he finds himself nodding anyway. Gabin... probably wouldn't ask like that just to punch him in the jaw.

Hopefully.

Plus his palm was open. Open palms typically didn't mean punches. Oh god, he wasn't going to slap him, was he?

Was he!?

"Breathe, Maverick," the dancer coaxes, and then his thumb his rubbing under his eye.

No, rubbing isn't the right word- it's too gentle for that. But carressing sounds wrong, and that word's too gentle for what hes doing.

It's kinda like.. an eraser? Like if he tries hard enough he could smooth out all the tension within Tobias' face. It was kind of working.

Especially when Gabin moved upwards, to the bridge of his nose and further still to between his brows. When had he closed his eyes? He didn't remember doing that.

Why wasn't his body listening to him today?

Tobias opens his eyes again- or tries to. It's surprisingly very hard when someone is feeling around the area.

"It is not so much of a scrunch, ehhh, so much as a pinch?" Gabin brushes over his eyebrow, "All focused. Right. Here."

Each following word gets punctuated with a firm, but not painful, tap to the bridge of his nose by the dancer's pointer and middle.

"It's a cute face, Tobias. I am not mocking you. I promise."

Well that was nice to know.

"...I didn't think you were mocking me, Gabin."

Hebreathes out, maybe in relief or maybe fondly- Tobias couldn't tell one way or another- and brings their joined hands up to his lips.

"I am glad," so in relief then..? "Now, will you tell me what you were thinking about? Please?"

And that word gets punctuated with a kiss to his knuckles.

Because they're still holding hands. Because Gabin hadn't let go. Because he wasn't upset..?

"Just the rain, mostly," Tobias says, unable to stop himself from glancing down again and again and again at their remaining point of contact.

"You were upset because of the rain?"

Was now a bad time to think about how much he liked the way Gabin pronounced the 'th' sound? It always came out sort of zee-ish, like a whir. Especially when he was confused.

That was when his french noises rose in pitch too.

It was adorable, but he should probably clear up the misunderstanding before it got too out of hand.

"No, not because of the rain," he denies, and shakes his head for good measure too.

A furrow creases Gabin's brow, "But you were upset?"

"...no. Well- not at first."

Pause. Someone kicks a can down the sidewalk.

"Start from the beginning."

Well. That was as clear an invitation to ramble as any, wasn't it? Tobias had been trying to get better at cutting back on those. At least in group settings.

Two counted as a group, right? It should, you could cast an entire ballet with two people.

"Uh.." Tobias looks up towards the clouds- "Okay."

He needs both hands for this. But also he didn't want to let go of Gabin's hand. And that was very confusing because he'd never felt that way about touch before.

Before he knew it, he'd started talking.

"At first I was thinking about the rain and what I like about it and, of course that led what I don't like about the rain and that's usually just the fact that makes my face feel weird. Oh and the puddles, I do not like the puddles. Especially when people like- drive through them? Intentionally? Huge mess."

Also it usually ended up with him getting drenched.

Alright, point one: down.

Now for point two-

"And then it was the face thing, I got really caught up on the face thing, Is it really scrunchy? Because when I think of scrunchy all I think of are those- hair accessory things. But also, you know me so well-"

Oh, and their hands are no longer connected. Okay. All the better to gesticulate with. He's always been told it's rude to point, but sometimes it's necessary. Right?

Right.

"I've never had someone who knows me as well as you do. Not even my parents, or my sister."

"You have a sister?"

Tobias only gives his.. lover? Partner? They hadn't really discussed labels yet... his something a flat look.

"Right, sorry. Continue." Gabin gestures him onward.

Onto point three then. Fuck the rest of point two entirely, for several reasons.

"Okay, last part is the shortest. When you were asking to touch my face? And your palm was just sorta hovering?"

He gives a quick demonstration- very brief. And then pulls his hand away. Was face touching allowed yet? Like actual full-on contact? Could he do that?

"Like that. Anyway- there was like.. maybe two seconds where I thought you were going to slap me-"

Gabin chokes on his own spit, "What!?"

"You said you wouldn't interrupt!"

"No," oh that was another french noise, "I said 'continue'. That is not the same thing!"

...technically true. Okay, very true. But if he could just-

"I would never hit you," Gabin emphasizes, scandalized, "You know that right? It is important to me that you know that-'

Oh, and they were holding hands again. Both hands this time.

Although it wasn't really holding so much as his something had wrapped up both of Tobias' hands in his and held them to chest level. He was still talking.

...!

Still talking!

"-honestly, Tobias, that is worrying. Have you been hit before?"

Uh.. well. No. Yes?

He doesn't know what counts as a hit or not, alright, or how severe something has to be to qualify as a a bad hit or a playful hit. People did that sometimes right?

In the end, all Tobias can do is shrug- helpless to a fault. Like always.

"Tobias-"

Gabin takes a deep, steadying breath, "Alright. We will talk about that later- after we finish our walk."

"Well now it's going to be the only thing I think about.."

"Then think about it on our way back to your apartment. I want a list."

A list? A list of what?

...surely he didn't mean-

"Yes, Top Gun, that kind of list."

"This isn't Scott Pilgrim, Gabin, you're not going to fight my exes-"

The dancer drops Tobias' hands to intertwine one pair again, and then starts back off to the building that they’ve spent more of their time together in than they’ve ever apart.

"Not fight. I will not track them down," he compromises, probably, "But if I see them.."

"No, you are not getting suspended again-"

"Ah.. but they'll have to catch me to suspend me, no?"

"You've gotten caught every single time so far!"

They go back and forth like that for a while, neither truly serious nor completely joking. It's not until they reach relatively 'the finish line' of their walk that it happens.

A car shows up.

It's not Genevieve, who Tobias will swear has a secret sixth sense specifically for tracking him, no it's just some dude.

And a puddle.

Gabin had taken to walking on the outside of the sidewalk- for reasons the choreographer's not entirely sure of- so realistically, he knows that it won't be him getting the brunt of the inevitable splash attack.

It still sucks. Arguably even more so, because then they'll both need showers before doing anything even remotely relaxing and that'll be a drag all by itself.

Ugh.

Whatever, he's resigned himself to it. Paris really isn't all that different from New York, is it?

But Gabin is monumentally different than Kevin.

Kevin always walked on the inside of the sidewalk, closest to the buildings. Whenever cars wanted to splash some unfortunate victim, it was always Tobias that got soaked the most.

Gabin pulls a rock out of his bag. The rock.

The weirdly square shaped one that's supposedly always on him.

And the car immediately stops its curve towards the curb.

It's a whole spectacle really, the way the dancer lets go of Tobias' hand to point menacingly at the car and make french noises. Threatening french noises.

Tobias finds he really likes the way those sound too.

Or maybe he just likes all the sounds Gabin makes..

The car drives away without a fuss, and without splashing them. And without broken windows. They're still slightly sticky from all the humidity in the air but they're dry. All because Gabin threatened to throw a rock.

It was nice. Nice like the smell of rain, and nice like being known, and hand holds, and not being hit.

It was nice being known. But only if the person who knew him was Gabin Roux.

Tobias thought, maybe, as their hands intertwined again, it was nice like something he could get used to.

“Were you really going to throw your rock at that guy?”

“Of course I was going to throw my rock at that guy, Tobias, he was going to drown us-”

[sacredsorceress]

I'm gnawing at the bars of my enclosure for more bob content. How do you think Bob would be with intimacy both NSFW and non-NSFW?

☆.°*Physical Intimacy w/ Bob HCs*°.☆

a/n: oooo idk if you meant intimacy in general but since you mentioned NSFW, im going to focus on physical intimacy!! no smut though. also forgive the first bit just explaining my thought process word count: 1.0k warnings: sexual content but not smut, regardless 18+ Minors DNI!, also mentions of drugs and insecurities. just anything that would've been in thunderbolts.

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・inbox・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

Knowing Bob's background, I believe that he would deeply crave intimacy, but be very hesitant to initiate it himself.

He had a rough childhood that probably didn't consist of a lot of affection from his mother and if you read the file that Valentina had on Bob, it says that his drug addiction started in middle school and that he dropped out in eighth grade because of it. After that, he had a juvenile record a mile long from breaking & entering, robbery etc.

With this information, I'm going to guess that he hasn't had many (if any) relationships and if he did, they probably weren't very healthy. Overall, he has a negative history with trust and intimacy.

BUT despite all of this, being with the team has had a positive impact on him- showing him that he isn't alone, what it's like to be sober and that vulnerability can be a good thing. For once, he can let down his walls and be his true self.

Unfortunately, physical intimacy is a whole other battle with the void lurking between the surface.

Before you had even begun dating, you had made the mistake or brushing his hand. Once simply gesture- a subconscious one really- threw you into one of your worst memories with Bob as a viewer. When you both came back to reality you didn't pull away, or flinch. He did.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Bob said tearing his hand from yours. "I can't control it. I- I didn't mean-"

And even though you just relived your own past, you reached for him.

"Bob, I know." You said, squeezing his hand. "It's not your fault."

You didn't leave, didn't scream at him. Just held him. And from that day on its like the barrier was lifted.

He would never make the first moves touching you before you were dating- that's where you come in.

It would start slow: hugging him after a mission, playfully shoving him as you joked around. Before you knew it, you were laying your heads on each other's shoulders when you sat side by side.

Your first kiss was slow. Your hands cupping his cheeks, guided his face to yours and for a moment, as your noses brushed, you could feel his breath against your lips. His eyelashes brushed against your cheek as you hummed, then his lips were on yours.

It wasn't hungry- no. There was none of that carnal desire or devouring. Instead it was thirsty, desperate. He reached for your lips as if they held the last drop of water in a barren desert and held you close like you'd evaporate if he didn't. Your lips dragged painfully slow against his until he reached to meet you.

Cheek and forehead kisses are a hallmark of your relationship.

As much as he absolutely adores kissing your lips and making out with you, those kisses are simply so pure that they held such a sacred place in his heart. No one gave him those before you.

Before you left to go anywhere, you'd find him in his little reading nook, brush his hair from his face and kiss his cheek from behind.

Even after months of dating he'd still blush after you did that and touch his skin to make sure it was real.

"I love you." You said.

And sometimes he'd catch your hand before you turned to go, pulling you in for a kiss on the lips.

"I love you too." And he always said it with a smile.

Bob doesn't hold hands in the traditional way out in public, but he does lace his fingers with yours. Your palms aren't touching but your digits remain interlocked, leaving him room to run his thumb along your hand.

He's not big on PDA. It makes him self conscious, not because he's not proud of you because he is, but because it feels as if he's putting his heart on display. Although Bob knows those from his past aren't around anymore to hurt him, it's a lasting scar that isn't healed so easily.

For my self-conscious girls, I mean this so genuinely, I don't think Bob has a physical type whatsoever. If you were a curvier women and felt insecure about in comparison to him and his physique he wouldn't even be able to comprehend it because to him you hung the stars in the sky. You're ethereal and anyone who tried to take that from you because of something as silly as your weight, or hair or nose is ridiculous. You're a goddess in his eyes.

Like, being insecure is reserved for him and him only. If you started speaking poorly about yourself he wouldn't even be able to stand listening to it and would probably cup your face in his hands and kiss you to make you stop

Is a big-time cuddler. Bob's favorite way to fall asleep is tucked in your arms. Although, that wouldn't last for long because he runs hot and once he was unconscious he'd toss and turn, kicking all the sheets to the end of the bed. He'd only cuddle you once more when he woke in the morning.

NSFW

Now, as I mentioned earlier I don't think he has a lengthy relationship history, however, I do believe that he's had sex before.

Most of the other times Bob had sex he was high and doesn't really remember much, which only makes this moment with you even more significant- and a bit anxiety inducing. With a high, he wasn't as worried about how he did or how he felt. Now, he was hyperaware of all of his inadequacies.

I think he's submissive or vanilla. The only time he's dominant during sex is if he's bolstered by the sentry persona and as we know, that may lead to the void so it is a VERY rare occurrence.

And when I say vanilla, that doesn't mean boring or satisfactory. Bob feels everything so strongly that his love for you would almost be overwhelming for him. You were just intoxicating. His kisses are so deep and soft it makes his head spin.

Loves being called a good boy.

I just imagine sex with him either being the definition of lovemaking: slow, passionate, raw.

Or, so giggly.

He's also a munch. What?? Who said that?? He may be sober but he gets drunk on the taste of you all the same.

He adores looking at you. To him, it's almost the only way. He has needs, sure, but what makes it so special and otherworldly is the love he has for you.

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this is by no means a comprehensive list and I would love to revisit these ideas more. if you have more headcanons you'd like to see my inbox is open