#i crave these garbage posts

[fittsysart]

I’m really speepy but also really craving a burger but also can’t do either of those things rn so it’s sending my body into a “WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING” kind of state

[vel-vet61]

Remmick would be WAITING for one of your sex toys to break. Uses his thought projection to tell you that you need him because he won’t eventually break like one of those toys. Can see him being lustful enough to risk a little burn to scavenge it out of your trash on garbage day, some time before the sun starts setting. He is licking and smelling that thing and jacking himself to the taste and scent of you.

yes yes a thousand times yes🤍🤍🤍 + sequel for my previous ‘pretend its me’

explicit 18+, dirty talk, peeping tom, double penetration, fantasies, oral, masturbation, filth, everything smutty above

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you’ve really given remmick something to look forward to. something to idealize and a goal to chase after. someone that isn’t just the next blood bag to rip open and then throw away

remmick still aches inside while he’s pleading to you and the stars above him like it’s some deep holy prayer all the while still very deliberately messing with you in your head

the pervy little fuck that he is takes full advantage of your pliant mind to mold you. ingrain some of his favorite scenarios into you that he has while he gets so goddamn worked up from outside spying. pathetically drools as he’s posted up in that same tree outside your bedroom window. his go to excuse was that it’s not like he had anything else to do with his time. this ultimately became his new favorite sickly way of spending it

visions of having you pinned down often scrambled any thinking thoughts you had left after a long day. remmick would have you envisioning how he’d position you, how he’d fuck with you using those impressive sized toys to his advantage

thinks of getting you spread open wide and salivating for it as he’s smiling mischievously right above you. he’d keep his jaw hung open to let a nice drag of spit dribble down until it spreads over you. smoothing you up to take what you were gonna take

thinks if he had the chance he’d line up one of your rubber toys right above his cock like it’s another fat strap on before slowly stretching you out with both at the same time. spears them inside at the same time

feeling your hole clench and try to accommodate the thick girth of both dicks. he’s as whiny as you are, gushing over how beautiful you look getting stretched impossibly. filled to the very brim. his fingers take great care keeping that toy and his cock squished together close, moving real nice and slow for you at first

he’d takes extra time drawing out the made up scene of splitting your pussy open on two bulging cocks at once, making you compare out loud to him which one is better

one moves real nice and warm inside you, don’t it?

remmick knows what his hips could do to tease you, go gently side to side before slamming all he has in

he’d shake his head in utter disdain at how that rubber toy on top of his cock ruined all the slippery, heavenly friction that helped guide him between your legs

this other one just feels so stiff and so cold… you don’t need no lube to get on mine, I promise. s’this feel good, having two cocks in at once?

imagines giving you some well deserved sweltering ecstasy, making sure he’s pounding his hips good the way you’ve evidently craved day in and day out for so long. now without having to do any of the work, leaving all of it up to him instead. and nothing else would make him happier

other visions got lodged in with the rest, soon turning into ones strictly without a toy in sight. nothing to wash or plug in and recharge. just remmick. all the parts of him. remmick’s tongue, remmick’s cock, his lips and his hands. he makes the obsession all consuming

shows you other ones drowning through his thoughts like him on his knees and lapping at your pussy like you’re his only water supply. drinking and kissing up your slick mess

visions like spending way too long with his favorite foreplay. taking his cock and slapping that fat round head directly down on the throbbing hood of your clit. watches how those harsh blunt beatings on your pussy had you writhing and squirming like he was burning you so good

when the jealousy over your own rubber collection started becoming proper torture for him the whispering in your head got a little louder. louder but still delicate in your ear, straight in your subconscious that yeah those toys may be all fun and games when you’re riled up by yourself, alone, but do they ever truly beat the feel of the real thing? and honey, d’you really believe you been all alone this whole time?

he licks off some loose saliva hanging off his lips. fangs releasing as his cherry colored eyes dilated twice the size. like he can’t handle how hard his own daydreams made him. how it was so fun to force feed you all of them right out of the palm of his hand

we both know those things ain’t gonna last you long pretty girl. even that new one y’got that you been riding like a cowgirl every night. thing’ll wear down fast f’you keep gettin’ as needy as you do

sure as shit didn’t think a proper lady like you could take all that dick in so goddamn fast… m-must be real fucking wet. I love it. you’re always dripping down them legs, getting it on them sheets

he wants, he begs that someday somehow you’ll throw away those bedsheets too. soaked and unwashed just for him. manifests it

his eyes hone in on you, smiling teeth fully out on display in the dark. his greedy dick starving for more. starving for warmth.

bet you’ll be beggin’ to feel the real thing soon. and it’ll feel good for you ‘cause I got a real one right here, he tugs on the giant tent poking through his trousers with a tight fist. he sees how immediate you are, stroking your clit with the tip of a finger at the probing imagery of his cock. does thinking ‘bout the real thing too much make you wet, babygirl?

some could call it luck but remmick knows fate when he sees it and fate was what it was. truly your timing couldn’t have been better

it looked so precious - watching how short fused and pissed off you became when one of those batteries gave out and died on you about halfway through a quickie really early in the morning. hears your ramblings to yourself about hating having to deal with batteries and has a smug laugh to himself

and it’s stupid early in the morning. like. remmick shouldn’t have even still been out. his skin slowly started to crawl and bubble and burn like it was pressed up against a skillet under the warmth of impending daylight

but you were up and at em, so he wasn’t interested in anything else. nothing compared to watching how you ground those hips down on that loud, buzzing, battery-powered one that intrigued him enough to obviously keep feasting his eyes. before you could cum for him one last time it dies on you, freezing your high mid-moan and it seems like you’d had enough

of course he’s still staring with hyper vigilance and baited breath as you’re marching out your front door with a loose bag of trash in hand, slamming it in the can carelessly before stomping right back in. watches as you head back to your room. sees your heavy head fall to the pillow. body language screaming that you were irritated with defeat

remmick goes back and forth between watching you and eyeing the trash you left out front. might’ve been fucking foolish but it would be absolutely fucking worth it. he smells that used up toy that you’d rid yourself of and shoved inside the trash. and now the risk was a no-brainer

the opportunities it gave him felt delicious, felt endless. once his grubby creep hands snuck it from your garbage he’d been fucking his fist on it ever since. gets to thoroughly smell you and taste you now so distinctly up close for the first time was easily more than enough to have him busting untouched before his hand even gets started on the job for him

he gives that cute little toy some long feverish kitten licks so he’ll get to taste the ghost of you and your creamed up slick. digs his nose right into it, inhaling hard to reminisce on all the sticky memories you’ve had with that exact toy tucked right between your legs

mm. should get rid of a couple more of these for me. right after using them too. what a good girl. tastes too fucking ethereal, baby

remmick thinks it’s adorable seeing how you toss and turn in your sleep in the midst of all his mind games. knowing that he’s the root cause of this restlessness. knowing that he’s the one that’s had the underlying thread of control over whatever plays behind those eyelids. anything that goes on in your imagination. all without you ever knowing

your name leaves his lips in a hushed rasp. he knows you can hear it when your head lifts off the pillow in real time, barely conscious before he’s in your head again while spitting down his own cock yet again. teasing himself with some wet slow drags up and down

agonizing me. tempting me. got me out here touchin’ myself, gettin’ off on your sloppy seconds, a smirk appears while he holds onto the base of it, shoved in one of his pockets of his trousers

strokes two fingers down the length of that used toy with his unoccupied hand before taking a lick of those same fingers like your trash was his own dirty little trophy

fucking shit… gonna—g-gonna make me cum again. pussy’s already the death of me—

his full body shudder could’ve sent him tumbling down from the branch he barely still balanced on. with his eyes screwed shut and that hand still vigorously stroking, he doesn’t see it in time when you’re first waking up. half conscious and trying your hardest to drill the nonstop slideshows of getting fucked behind your eyes. you shake your head and try to pinch yourself before any more paranoia sets in

he’s still lost and blissfully unaware to see you trudging over as if you might as well have been sleepwalking. in an instant you’ve slammed your window shut, ripping both curtains until they’re fully closed. the sound makes him flinch, killing the high he was about to reach in an instant

reluctantly jolting him back to reality, he finally seems to remember where he is. tucks his painfully hard neglected dick back in his pants in a hurry before flying back down to the ground. eyes barely even once leaving what was now your covered up bedroom window

alright, alright sweetheart. privacy. I get it. f’it comes down to this then that’s just fine by me. don’t gotta shut me out like that. don’t be so shy. we’ll just get you to let me on in next time so I can fuck this new attitude you got right outta you

———————|||—————————————

might def have to do another part after having this one be alllll edging too :D

[arthur-morgans-wife]

hii lovely looking forward to your writing so here's a request 💘 could you do any like fluffy oneshots with Arthur and a female reader in like Colter or early chapters? 🫶

~Colter Comfort

thank you so much for this idea, i absolutely love it!! i tried to do it justice, but in reality i’m not a great writer.

this is my first time posting my writing, so please don’t hate too much. i understand my writing is basically garbage, but i would appreciate feedback and constructive criticism instead of just criticism. i did edit it, but i likely missed some things. it’s also pretty short, sorry!!

summary; reader is burnt out and needs comfort, set in colter

content warnings; afab reader, reader uses she/her pronouns, reader is burnt out, established relationship, cuddles, comfort, fluff, suggestive dialogue, brief intimate touching, short and sweet

You’re Arthur’s girl, everyone knows it. You always managed to find time for each other, that was until now. It’s been almost a week since Blackwater. Days since you and Arthur had a moment of peace. He had been busy with robbing, hunting, and scouting. You two had barely been able to rest together since the massacre. Just fleeting touches and the occasional peck, not nearly enough for either of you. You had been allowed to share a private room together, but it changed little.

It was usual for him that Arthur would come in by the time you were asleep and leave before you woke, leaving no time for affection other than sleeping next to each other. You were exhausted, yet you crave his touch more than anything in the world.

After a long day of taking care of John’s bloodied face and helping mend some worn clothing, you open the door to the cabin. It was old, dusty, but it did the job. You amble into your room, taking part in the same routine you’ve been doing since arriving here. You shed off the thick outer layers of your winter outfit, folding them down onto a warped wooden desk. You straighten out your chemise, soothing the wrinkles from the long day’s work. The room is cramped with little space for mess. There is a dresser, a mirror, a weathered wooden desk, and a beat to shit bed. It was small, but soft and comfortable. Better than nothing.

You look up into the mirror that hangs across from the door, looking at your appearance. You hardly recognise yourself. Your hair is a mess, so frazzled and knotted. Dark bags hang heavy under your eyes, restless nights catching up to you. You feel so tired, and you look it too. The past week nearly drained you, physically and mentally. You hated this version of you, this worn down girl.

“What ‘s that frown for, pretty girl?” Arthur rasps as his eyes catch yours in the mirror. He closes the door behind him with his foot, holding two bowls of Pearson’s stew. You spin around, surprised to see him back so soon. After the series of late nights, you expected tonight to be the same. You were wrong.

Seeing your expression, he wordlessly sets the bowls down and makes his way towards you. He immediately envelops you in a hug, bringing your body to his. His warmth surrounds you, the pleasant scent of earth, smoke, and something entirely him floods your senses. Arthur’s head rests on top of yours, his strong hands gently holding and rubbing your waist. You respond in kind, arms twining around his neck and pulling him even closer.

The moment your bodies meet, you both melt into the feeling. A moment's silence and respite after days of endless effort. It felt so good to finally be held without worrying when you had to pull away. This was heaven.

You don’t even notice the tears, not until his hands gently move to your face, his thumbs brushing away the salty droplets. “Oh, my sweet girl,” Arthur whispers so softly, leaning down to press a few kisses to your forehead. “It ‘s alright, darlin’. I’m ‘ere. What’s goin’ on in that pretty head of yours?”

His words are sweet, his tone that soothing rasp. Your arms stay wrapped around his neck, just holding him close to you as he cups your face in his rough hands. “Just missed you,” you murmur softly, tilting your head into his touch. His calloused fingers felt so good against your soft skin, something so purely Arthur. You look up at him through your lashes, tears clumping the thin wisps together. “I’m so tired,” you admit defeatedly.

Arthur just nods softly at your words, not giving you any warning before he picks you up. His rough hands tenderly grasp underneath your thighs, guiding you to wrap your legs around his waist. You were so close to him, no space between your bodies as you rest your head on his shoulder. He felt so warm, so comforting.

“’s alright, sweetheart,” he drawls by your ear, moving to sit down on the edge of the bed. Your body is nestled against his, your fronts flush as he shifts you forward. “We can rest. We have all the time in the world.”

Arthur pulls back, his hands moving from your thighs to your back, gently rubbing and kneading the knots in your back. A low moan leaves your lips as he eases the tense muscles, your head lolling forward.

He chuckles at your reaction, the sound deep and amused. “Atta girl,” he praises, continuing to draw satisfied sounds from your lips. “Just relax, darlin’. When yer ready, I wanna get some food in yuh, okay?”

You hum in affirmation, your eyes closed while he touches you. Minutes go by, Arthur completely contented to make sure you feel good before prioritising his own needs. Hesitantly, you pull away as your stomach growls, reminding you of how little you’ve eaten today.

“Jesus, woman,” he chides, his features contorting into worry. He gingerly repositions his hands to your stomach, not feeling its usual fullness. “Have you had anythin’ at all?”

Blush stains your cheeks, embarrassment and guilt rolling through you. You nibble at your lower lip, nodding as you tentatively look up at him. “Shared some canned pineapple with the girls this morning,” you confirm, looking into his ocean like eyes. “Haven’t had anything since… didn’t feel like I needed to until now.”

Arthur grunts in understanding, lifting you off of him and onto the bed as he stands. He grabs the long forgotten bowls, returning to you and sitting by your side. “I reckon’ it’ll be a little cold now, but it’s food nonetheless,” he mutters, sliding a bowl and spoon into your hands.

“If it’s Pearson’s cooking, it’s barely food,” you mumble before taking a bite, immediately cringing at the taste.

Arthur can’t hide his smile, an amused grin breaking out across his face. “As long as it fills you up, it’s food,” he counters as he starts eating, immune to the taste after consuming his cooking for so long.

“You’re not food, yet you fill me u-” Arthur chokes on his spoonful of soup, interrupting your debate. His expression one of shock and horror, not expecting your brazenness.

Laughter fills the room, a warm smile on your face as you watch his cheeks go rosy. “L-let’s just focus on eating,” he grumbles, his voice gruff and gravely.

Once both dishes are done, Arthur sets them down on the desk, moving back to you with a tender look in his eyes. “Gettin’ late, darlin’,” he drawls, taking a few steps towards you as he begins to unbutton his shirt. His thick fingers made their way down, slowly revealing more of his toned chest. He wasn’t thin by any means, carrying both muscle and some softness. He knew just how much you loved his body, but it never stopped the self deprecating thoughts from getting to him.

You look up at him from where you’re sitting on the edge of the bed, eyes full of heat as you reach out and pull him in by his belt loops. Your hands quickly go to his belt, rushing to unbuckle it.

Arthur lets out a gravelly chuckle, watching your every move as he finishes taking off his shirt. His skin was paler than normal, but still smothered with freckles. Chestnut hair covered his chest, leading down his stomach before dipping beneath his jeans.

When the belt is finally gone, you unbutton and unzip the denim pants. Biting your lip, you tug down the unwanted trousers to reveal his long johns. The imprint of his length was unmistakable, your hands eagerly reaching to rub him through the fabric.

Arthur’s head falls back, a low groan spilling from his lips at the contact. You could feel the way his body was responding to your fingers, twitching and hardening beneath you. His hands move to gently clasp your wrists, moving them away from his covered cock. Your lips curve into a frown, a protest on the tip of your tongue.

“Yer tired, ain’t right for you to be pleasin’ me,” he rasps as he gently brings your hands up to his lips, pressing sweet kisses to your knuckles. He slips away, only to kick off his jeans and climb into bed. Arthur’s hand grasps the large blanket, gesturing for you to crawl in beside him.

The moment you’re pressed against his side, he rests the blanket down on top of you, cocooning you in warmth. Arthur lays on his side, his gaze roaming over your features. “How’d I get so lucky?”

You can’t help but blush at his words, your arms moving to wrap around his neck. “I ask myself the same thing every morning,” you whisper softly, moving one of your legs to curve around his hip, pulling yourself impossibly close. Leaning up, your lips meet his.

It’s sweet, soft, and slow. It’s the rushed moments, the quick kisses, that finally led to this moment. No hurry, no impending doom. Just you and Arthur.

His touch is gentle as he moves one hand to the back of your head, angling your head to deepen the kiss. Arthur’s tongue leisurely runs along your lower lip, pleading for entrance. The action alone causes a sigh to leave your mouth. Taking the opportunity, his tongue slips in. Satisfied sounds leave the two of you at the same time, both of you desperate and needing.

One of Arthur’s hands moves to grip your thigh, his fingers digging into your skin. He breaks the kiss, his breaths shaky and uneven. His lips are swollen, and you have a suspicion that yours are in the same state. His eyes are closed as he moves his forehead down to yours, your noses bumping together unceremoniously.

Breathless laughter fills the air, soft pecks being exchanged. His arms wrap around you, bracing you against his body as he moves onto his back. “Found a rundown cabin while scoutin’ out around an hour away,” he whispers against your ear, his scruff rubbing against the sensitive skin. “Has a bed.”

You sigh, resting your head against his chest. “And what do we tell ‘em?” You mumble against his skin, the accent you’ve been gaining slipping out with your tiredness. “We want to go off into the woods to have sex?”

Arthur chuckles hoarsely, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. “Just say ’m teachin’ you to hunt.”

A soft hum falls past your lips, your eyes closed as you feel yourself begin to walk the line of conciseness. “I look forward to our lesson,” you mutter before slipping off, completely surrounded by comfort. As long as Arthur was there, you could finally relax.

thank you for reading!! i hope you enjoyed this and that it wasn’t too terrible. have a lovely morning, afternoon, or night!!

Tags; comment or message me if you would like to be tagged in future posts <3

divider credits; @anitalenia

[plethaid]

Hello! I have never written any of this shit down before, or posted! So here we go, its gonna be gargabe. But its my garbage so who cares?

Anyway!

Some Cod character headcannons

Simon definently has some crazy good hygiene when off the field. Can tell you first hand that some people who grew up dirt poor hate smelling bad. Simon is one of them. He has a full shower care routine, complete with exfoliating. Skincare too, he knows what that mask could do to his skin. Its almost meditative I think. A way to wind down after missions, to ground himself.

Price who was raised in a tough household. Not abusive, or so he says, just chaotic. A constantly working father, and a mess of a mother. Younger siblings, trying to be a parent while needing one himself. It gave him one hell of a need for control, and an outlet for frustration. He left to join the military, and never looked back. Still checks in on his baby siblings from time to time, but his parents are dead to him for reasons even he doesn't want to remember. It bleeds over into how he takes care of the 141, and how well he takes orders. He craves the rigidity, and the knowledge that somone else will always at least have a plan or orders for him, something he never got as a kid.

Johnny has a fascination with soft, cozy things. After he was allowed to get an apartment and live off base, his family, mainly his mother, sisters, and grandma, helped him decorsate. The place is full of old blankets, soft pillows, and a couple old childhood stuffed animals. It may seem out of character, but this man was not raised to reject much needed comfort out of a fucked sense of masculinity. You think he cares about getting made fun of? Look at that fuckass mohawk. He does not care.

Gaz who is always, always lonely when not on a mission or on base. Sure, he has friends from before he joined up, but theres a disconnect now. A chasm that can never be crossed created by the horrors he's seen and done. He has plenty of one night stands, but never sticks around. A smaller family, and he has a hard time keeping in touch. Just lonely. Eventually he caves and goes to a veterans support group, full of old men doing various crafts and activities. He is by far the youngest one there, but he finds himself enjoying it. Gets adopted by almost all of them. And he finds that they understand very well what he is going through. Afterall, they went through it too. Price doesn't question later how Gaz knows exactly how to fix a wobbly chair using only glue and some paper, but he is glad that his soldier seems a bit happier and coping better.

[zafill]

If you’re taking requests, could you do something cute n’ fluffy with Sanemi?

Perhaps after the final battle with Sanemi and the reader starting a family, I dunno I’m just craving smth domestic

Title: "After the Storm" Pairing: Sanemi Shinazugawa x Reader (You/Reader-Insert, Gender Neutral) Genre: Fluff, Domestic, Post-Canon, Family, Hurt/Comfort, Healing, Found Family Length: Really long and really soft (i just wanna say im trying a new way of writing btw)

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

🌸 AFTER THE STORM 🌸

The war was over.

It felt surreal. After so many years, so much bloodshed, so many funerals and bitter goodbyes, the silence of peace settled over the land like a blanket — unfamiliar and too soft at first. You weren’t sure what to do with yourself in a world where you weren’t waking up to the stench of blood or the sound of your name being screamed in desperation.

Sanemi wasn’t sure either.

After Muzan fell, after the chaos of that final battle, the survivors were scattered. Some stayed close, some disappeared to distant corners of the country to build new lives. But you stayed close to Sanemi. And he — perhaps to his own surprise — never asked you to leave.

He didn’t say it aloud, of course. He never did. But the way he lingered when you sat by his side, the way his eyes softened when he thought you weren’t looking, the way he didn’t flinch when you reached for his hand — that was enough.

Sanemi Shinazugawa had spent so long in battle that he didn’t know what peace looked like on him. It didn’t fit at first. He walked like a soldier, slept like a man waiting for the next attack. But with you, he started to soften. He started to breathe.

🏠 The Cottage

You found a little place just outside a quiet village — nestled at the edge of a forest, close enough to town to visit, far enough to be left alone. The cottage was old but sturdy, with ivy creeping along its stone walls and sunlight that spilled through the kitchen window like a promise.

Sanemi grumbled about how much fixing it would need, how the porch creaked and the roof sagged. But you saw the way he kept coming back after every errand in town with supplies — wood, nails, even paint. You saw how he carved small things: a hook for your coat, a stool for your feet, a hand-carved fox figurine that mysteriously appeared on your windowsill one morning with no explanation.

He built that house into a home. Rough hands, tender heart.

One morning, you found him outside, shirtless and sweating under the sun as he chopped wood. His scars caught the light, silvery streaks against muscle and toil. You leaned on the doorframe, watching him.

He paused when he caught your eye. “What?” he grunted.

“Nothing,” you smiled. “Just admiring the view.”

Sanemi rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched. Later, he brought in extra firewood — and a wildflower tucked behind his ear.

🍼 The Baby

It wasn’t something either of you had planned.

When you first told Sanemi you were expecting, he froze. You’d never seen him so still. Not even in battle.

His hands trembled when he reached for you, resting on your stomach like he was afraid it would vanish if he touched it wrong. “A kid?” he asked, voice hoarse. “I... I don’t know how to—”

You placed your hand over his. “We’ll learn together.”

He didn’t say anything at first. Just pulled you into his arms, held you so tightly you felt the old pain in him crack and bleed out — and something new take its place. Hope.

And he did learn. Gods, he tried. You’d never seen Sanemi read so much. Piles of parenting scrolls and birth advice, half of which he angrily declared “utter garbage” but read anyway. He built the crib himself — even carved wind-themed patterns into the wood. He lined the nursery walls with little wooden animals.

When the baby came — a stormy night, wind howling against the windows — Sanemi never left your side. He held your hand so tight it left marks, but he didn’t flinch. And when the cries filled the air, and he saw the tiny, squirming bundle placed into your arms, his face broke.

Tears streamed down his cheeks.

He tried to hide them, of course. Turned away like he always did when his feelings surged too hard. But you saw. You always saw him.

“Sanemi,” you whispered, holding your newborn close. “Come meet your daughter.”

His knees nearly gave out.

🐣 Family Life

If you’d told Sanemi a few years ago that he’d be raising a daughter in a cozy cottage with someone who kissed his scars and held him during thunderstorms, he would’ve laughed in your face.

But now, he couldn’t imagine anything else.

The baby — your daughter — was everything. She had your eyes and his temper, tiny fists and wild little grunts when she didn’t get her way. Sanemi swore up and down he wouldn’t spoil her, but she had him wrapped around her chubby little fingers by the time she could crawl.

He carried her everywhere. On his shoulders, against his chest in a sling he pretended to hate but wore every day. He told her stories — of wind and strength and the people who came before. He taught her to hold a wooden spoon like a sword and scolded her gently when she smacked the dog with it.

Your home was always full of life. Laughter, squeals, soft singing. On rainy days, you all curled up by the fire. On sunny ones, you picnicked under the trees. Sanemi built her a swing on the big oak out back. She giggled so hard the first time he pushed her that you nearly cried.

And sometimes, at night, you’d wake to find him standing by her crib, arms folded, just watching her sleep. As if trying to protect her from nightmares with nothing but his presence.

“She’s safe,” you’d whisper.

“I know,” he’d say. “Just... makin’ sure.”

💌 The Love

Sanemi never said “I love you” easily. Words weren’t his strong suit. But he showed it every day — in a hundred tiny ways.

In the way he always took the left side of the bed — the one closest to the door, so he could protect you. In the way he cooked your favorite breakfast every time you looked tired, grumbling about “keeping your strength up.” In the way he reached for your hand when he thought you were asleep. In the way he looked at you — like you were his whole world.

Eventually, he did say it. Late one night, stars bleeding across the sky, your daughter curled between you in bed.

He looked at you, eyes tired but soft, and said it like a promise.

“I love you, y/n. More than I ever thought I could love anything. You gave me... everything.”

You smiled, tears warm on your cheeks. “You deserved everything, Sanemi. You just didn’t know it yet.”

He kissed you then — long, slow, grateful. The kind of kiss that tasted like forever.

🌾 Epilogue: The Wind at Your Back

Years passed.

Your daughter grew — wild and bright, with wind in her hair and fire in her heart. Sanemi aged gracefully, hair grayer at the temples, lines softening his face, but his spirit never dulled. He still grumbled. Still protected. Still loved fiercely.

Sometimes, on quiet evenings, you’d sit together on the porch, his arm around your waist, your child chasing fireflies in the yard.

The wind would whisper through the trees.

And for once — after everything — Sanemi Shinazugawa was at peace.

With you.

With your family.

With the life he never thought he’d live long enough to see.

THE END.

[moriwood]

Just Like We Used To — j.jh

jeong jaehyun x male reader angst 3k words

Waking up after a party, you find yourself alone with Jaehyun, stirring unresolved feelings from a drunken kiss a year ago that shifted your once-extremely close friendship. As you deal with the aftermath of meeting him again, you remember this cycle of yearning and his inability to fully reciprocate.

includes: flashbacks (non-linear narrative?), dialogue heavy, strong implied internalized homophobia, jaehyun is a dumb and dense asshole (ngl mc here is kinda on the same boat)

A wet sensation on your eyebrow rouses you, blurry vision stirred by sunlight streaming through tacky velvet curtains. You blink your eyes open, meeting Jaehyun’s concerned gaze, a cold water bottle pressed against your forehead.

“You alright?” he gently asks, in a voice that felt too familiar and too comfortable. You nod, realizing that you were sprawled on a couch in Johnny’s living room, clothes disheveled from last night’s party. The room smells of stale alcohol and dried sweat; lucky there was no stench of vomit. Memories dart in and out your head, unlabeled images that you know would linger in your head for the following weeks.

Jaehyun settles beside you, air hanging heavy with things left untold. The warmth of his body immediately tugs you, and you can’t exactly pin if the shivers you’re suddenly having are of longing or discomfort.

“I’m talking to you,” he grumbles.

“Yeah,” you mumble, voice scratchy. “Thank you.”

You sit up a little, taking the water bottle from Jaehyun’s hand and downing it in one go. You grimace at its awful taste, plasticky from being left out in the sun too long.

“Where’s Johnny?” you ask, glancing around for the missing homeowner as you gauge the post-party wreckage.

“Brought the kids back home,” Jaehyun sighs, leaning back against the couch, a hand brushing close to your thigh. “Just you and I at the moment to clean the rest of this.” He pulls the hand away, using it to gesture around the scattered garbage in Johnny’s living room.

“What even happened?” you mutter, reveling in what only looked like the aftermath of a cyclone. Crushed cans, empty bottles, discarded plastic cups, and mysterious stains litter the carpeted floor. You chuckle. “A hurricane struck last night or something?”

“That’s what happens when friends meet again after a long while,” Jaehyun mutters. He looks at you, expression unreadable. He seems to seek some kind of intimacy, like he’s begging you to agree.

You avoid his gaze, focusing on a crushed cup near your feet. “Really?” you tease, but it comes out half-hearted.

Jaehyun shifts closer and the weight of his presence becomes heavier. There was a time when you craved moments like this, when having him by your side could burn you alive. But now, it reminds you of a dying flame, a friendship fading because you were so brave to start wanting more. The silence stretches, suffocating. You want to fill it, to say something, but what can you say at this moment?

“I miss this,” Jaehyun says, voice low but steady. He confesses, echoing a sentiment that you have begun to forget amid your own struggle. “I miss you,” he adds.

His hand finally settles on your thigh, a gesture that feels too intimate now, something you want and dread all at once. “I miss you the most,” he says, voice soft to a whisper.

A biting reply sits on the tip of your tongue, but all you could do was swallow an audible gulp. Jaehyun had a soft expression on his face, a faint smile touching his lips. The delusional part of you begs that this be a glimmer of hope, thinking that maybe, just maybe, your relationship with him could start anew, that you could go back to seeing him as just a friend and nothing more.

“I miss you too,” you admit, in a context that probably differs from Jaehyun’s. You don’t know if you mean it the way he wants you to, or the way you once wanted to. The words feel hollow.

He studies you, brows furrowing. “Yeah?”

“We’re about to graduate, Jaehyun-ah,” you reason, grasping for logic in a circumstance driven purely by emotion. “Things change. People drift apart. We can’t do dumb shit just like we used to.”

Jaehyun’s hand withdraws, just slightly, and he retreats into himself, expression still frustratingly unreadable.

“Is that really it?” he asks, stance guarded and hesitant. “We’re just… graduating? Growing up? That’s why you’ve been avoiding me?”

Of course, it’s not just that. It’s you. It’s you who was always sober enough to remember the drunken antics of your friends. It’s how Jaehyun always ended up by your side, how everyone else faded into the background as the two of you laid your hearts bare. It’s how in one drunken stupor almost a year ago, he kissed you senseless, then forgot it like the rest of his drunk confessions. And it shouldn’t have meant anything, but it meant everything to you, and it’s a downward spiral that could no longer be stopped.

—

You’ve been leaning against the kitchen counter in Taeyong’s apartment for the better part of an hour, a half-empty cup in hand, your surroundings starting to blur into techno music and shadows of bodies. Across the space was Jaehyun, sprawled on a couch, head tipped back as he laughed at something the pretty woman beside him said. He looks so beautiful—hair tousled, eyes half-lidded, one of the reasons you were so willing to be a wallflower in these parties.

You’ve known him for years, seen him grow from a lanky nerd with too-big clothes to the handsome man he’s become, sharp jawline and all that. You’d been inseparable then. He’d show up to your classes out of nowhere, leaning against the doorframe with such confidence, then whisk you away to whatever adventure he had in mind—desolate food stalls in Dongdaemun where he’d pay for everything even if he only had crumpled bills and small coins, midnight walks along the Han River with you wearing his jacket as you were always more sensitive to cold weather—every bullet point that you’d find in a list of must-dos for couples in Seoul. 

Taeyong once said that Jaehyun was yours in “every way but the words” and you have long mulled over whether there was any point in finding those words. In the end, you’ve decided it’s much better to keep things the way they are—some feet away from him, watching him from a distance, and letting him draw the line himself if it ever came to that.

His eyes meet yours from across the room and his smile softens. He excuses himself and slowly strides to the opposite side of the counter. “Hey,” he murmurs. “You’re doing that thing again. People-watching.”

“It’s fun seeing everyone transform under the influence of alcohol,” you reason, tilting your cup towards Doyoung, draped over Johnny’s shoulder and giggling into his neck. “Like Doyoung turning into a clingy mess.” Then you point to Mark, who is staring at Haechan with such affection it’s almost blinding. “Or Mark here who can’t look at anyone else but Haechan.”

Jaehyun tilts his head, staring at you with curiosity, then takes your hand. “Come with me,” he says, coaxing, tugging you toward the balcony, splitting the party’s cacophony like a tide.

The air outside is less humid, cool and crisp to clear someone’s head so quickly. He doesn’t let go of your hand, pulling your hand over the railing with his. You glance at Jaehyun, waiting for him to speak first like you always do.

“How do you see me when I’m drunk, then?” he asks, his thumb tracing circles on your knuckles.

You smile, looking out at the night skyline to buy yourself some time. “Not much changes,” you admit. “Less reserved, more outgoing. You talk with a lot of people, but you always end up next to me.”

A lot of things change, more than that. It’s the way he’d stumble to you in a crowded room, him slurring your name like it was the only word he knew; the way he’d rest his head against yours as if you were his only constant. It’s the way he suddenly becomes vulnerable like this, only to forget everything he has said as the sun rises.

He chuckles, his deep voice vibrating through the cold air. “You’re always the one I look for, drunk or not,” he says, a confession you’re scared to measure.

Your chest tightens. “Yeah, well,” you mumble, deflecting, “I have to keep you from doing stupid shit.”

His hand, still holding yours, lifts to rest against his chest, your knuckles feeling the steady thud of his heartbeat. “Do you know how I see you when I’m drunk?”

“How?” you reply, already cautious of the direction he’s taking you to.

“You’re like… everything.”

You sigh. “Stop,” you warn him.

He’s said it before and you’ve seen it before. To him, you’re everything he wants and it’s devastating, because you imagine it too; but one thing never changes: it’s not you he’s after.

“You’re so pretty and so strong yet so delicate, Jaehyun spills. “I don’t want to lose you. The drunker I get, the more I realize that you’re everything I want...”

In a woman. You wanted to add.

You slip your hand away from his chest, staring at the ground instead of entertaining Jaehyun further. “You’re drunk, we should go.”

You step back, intending to go back inside, but a hand grasps on your wrist. “Tell me you don’t feel it too,” he whispers, almost a plea.

“Look,” you reply, “you can keep this up forever, but I’m a guy, Jaehyun-ah.”

He lets go, voice cracking. “So what?” he replies weakly, a response that seems more like a straining attempt to prove himself wrong rather than to convince you.

“Fine, I’ll bite,” you mutter, stepping closer. You close the distance, hands sliding up his chest, fingers curling into his jacket so you could hold onto him. “So what if I’m everything? Do something about it,” you taunt, eyebrow raised.

Jaehyun shatters the tender tension with a kiss—rough and urgent. His lips are warm and soft, tasting faintly of whiskey, but the unbridled want eclipses everything else. It’s as if he’s distilled all his unresolved confessions into this one fragile moment. His hand cradles your jaw, pulling you closer, and you melt into him, arms looping around his neck, desperate to hold onto this before it burns out. It’s real now, and you both know it’ll end in wreckage.

He reluctantly pulls back, resting his forehead against yours. “Best friends don’t usually do this, right? What are we then?”

You don’t know how to answer, because you’ve never wanted to find one. “We’re us,” you say, a non-answer, because it’s all you can give, really. You’ve been Jaehyun’s shadow, his anchor, and his everything—as he has always said. The reins are his.

He exhales, a shaky, broken sound, and his lips curve into an anguished half-smile. “Yeah,” he murmurs, “us.”

Then the balcony door slides open, Doyoung’s voice piercing like a shard of glass. “There you two are! Let me sing the two of you a song!” he laughs, oblivious.

Jaehyun stiffens, arms loosening around you. There’s the sobering expression that flickers on his face—pain, regret, a quiet resignation. “We got carried away,” he says.

You nod, stepping back, turning to follow Doyoung back inside. The kiss lingers like a bruise, and you never liked the blemishes on your skin.

—

You take a hard swallow, admitting, “I don’t know.”

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he says firmly. It’s not a question.

“I’ve been busy,” you lie, the excuse sounding weak even to your own ears. You beg that Jaehyun lets it slide without digging any deeper. But of course, he doesn’t.

“Busy? Bullshit,” he repeats, voice laced with disbelief. “For a whole year? Come on, I know you better than that. You still go partying, for fuck’s sake. Just without me.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” you mumble. “I just… needed space.”

Jaehyun shakes his head, frustration across his face. “That’s not it,” he grunts sharply. “You’ve been different ever since that night. The party at Taeyong’s place.”

You feel the blood drain from your face. You try to come up with anything sensible, but you end up stunned into shameful silence. Jaehyun’s not leaving without a concrete answer. 

“Was that why? Because of the kiss?”

“It’s complicated—”

Jaehyun scoffs. “If it’s the kiss, I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have done it. I thought…” He falters, and for a moment, he looks as lost as how you feel. “I thought it didn’t mean anything.”

The truth. There’s no point in prolonging this suffocating pretense of still being close friends. Whether this breaks everything or not should no longer matter to you—it already broke long ago. Nobody knows what the fuck your relationship is.

“That’s the thing. It meant everything to me.”

He exhales, a shaky breath that carries the weight of a thousand unspoken things. A belated confession, and a sober one at that. “You like me.”

“I liked you,” you clarify, a poor attempt at dampening the wounds that you’re reopening. “But it felt wrong exploiting our friendship like that.”

Jaehyun’s eyes soften, and for a split second, you think he might say the right thing to pull you back in. But he shakes his head, looking more lost than ever. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know… I was drunk, I—I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

You try your hardest not to bitterly laugh. “You’re stupid if you really think that one fucking kiss ruined it.”

“If it hadn’t happened, it wouldn’t have hurt you this much.”

“It’s been hurting for a while,” your voice trembles. “You do it every time. Get drunk, make me feel like we’re the only people in the world, like you could love me as a lover even if I’m not a woman, then go back to pretending we’re just friends who are just a little bit too intimate.”

Jaehyun’s eyes widen in surprise, hands reaching out for yours. “No, I didn’t mean—”

“It’d be unfair for both of us, no matter how I looked at it.”

—

You sip your beer, the bitterness sharp on your tongue as you chug it all down. A year ago, Mark had been hovering near Haechan, timid and hesitating; now, they’re tangled together in the corner of the room, an official couple making out without a hint of shame giggling against each other’s lips. Doyoung’s still as clingy as ever, singing some new song directly to Johnny’s face, a grin splitting his features as he still manages to sound lke the great singer that he is. You feel Jaehyun’s presence in your peripheral vision, but he stays where he is, locked in conversation with someone else. And yet, you feel his scrutinizing gaze from far away, a gravitation that pulls you closer with each passing second. 

Like every last time, Jaehyun somehow slips past everything and ends up right beside you. It’s not as seamless as it once was, no casual arm around the back, no brushing shoulders. His steps are now measured, hesitant.

“Hey,” he says cautiously, a far cry from the casual intimacy that you used to have with him.

“Hey,” you echo, grip tightening on your bottle of beer.

“You’re still doing that thing,” Jaehyun chuckles. “People-watching,” he says, nodding toward the room.

“Yeah. Mark and Haechan finally figured their shit out,” you say, voice thinner than you mean it to be. “While others…” You trail off, the implications of your thought dawning on you.

Like us.

Jaehyun’s eyes narrow, then he steps closer, a hand hovering near yours. “Dance with me?” he asks, the traces of his usual confidence nowhere to be found.

You should say no, should walk away and spare yourself from repeating the same mistake. But you can’t. You nod, setting your bottle on the counter with a clink that feels too loud and urgent, and follow him to the edge of Johnny’s makeshift dance floor. His hands settle on your waist, and you rest yours on his shoulders, keeping a careful distance. But he pulls you closer, erasing that gap, and you catch the strong stench of alcohol mixed in with his usual perfume, dizzying.

You swear you’re indulging yourself for the last time. It’s the same desperation, the grip on your waist a little too tight. You sway together but the rhythm is off, it’s clumsy, strained.

“You’ve been gone,” he murmurs, breath hot against your ear. His eyes, half-lidded, lock onto yours, and there’s that same longing from a year ago—from years before that, in the quiet moments between you two.

“I’ve been around,” you sigh. 

He scoffs. “You used to be my everything and now you’re just gone.”

You flinch, because he’s right. His eyes search yours, glassy and raw, and then he kisses you. It’s so slow and so gentle, begging to hold on for a little bit longer. You let him, for a moment, your hands finding their way to his hair, because you’ve missed Jaehyun too.

“I need air,” you mutter, stepping away. He doesn’t follow, like he always does—because what happened tonight will not survive tomorrow.

Johnny doesn’t question you when you come to him asking for stronger liquor.

—

Jaehyun lets his hands fall. There’s nothing left to say that could change the course of things. “I’m sorry… for everything.” 

“I’m sorry,” you echo. “I couldn’t be what you want me to be.”

Because neither of you can reconcile with the truth. He looked at you like you were his future, only to be reminded that you’d never fit the shape of his dreams; likewise, you were reaching for something you’d never get from him, and the weight of it could only get so heavy before you seek some temporary relief.

A distant sound breaks the tension, the roar of an engine rumbling as Johnny pulls up the driveway. His timing couldn’t be more perfect. You take this as your cue to leave.

“I should go,” you say, getting to your feet. The disappointment in Jaehyun’s face could not be more obvious, but he masks it with a casual nod.

“Wait,” Jaehyun commands, a hand grabbing your arm to stop you from leaving yet. He stares at your arm, fingers tightening briefly. “Will I still see you around?” he asks, desperation seeping into his words.

You don’t answer anymore. Not when you can’t commit to an answer. Once you see him again, broken and reaching, you won’t be able to stop yourself from settling with whatever he gives you, just like you always used to.

author's note: this story has been sitting in my drafts since my first fic and it’s kinda sad i only got to finish it when y’know… that one dude rn :// i was hesitating whether or not i should still post this but i decided to keep it as there’s not much going on in the fic (and so it could stop being an unfinished draft asdpvas) lightly inspired by peach pit - tommy's party

— moriwood.

[madockisser]

I just finished Elfhame series and came across your tumblr and your post about "Cardan just wanting love" and your analysis was enjoyable to read.

However, after finishing books 1, 2, and 3, I get the feeling that Cardan isn’t... faithful to Jude. Fae are very poly, and Cardan was/is definitely a thot, and Jude's insecurities over that never go away.

Do you believe Cardan is monogamous after The Wicked King?

Will cardan stay loyal to jude? / cardans views of faith / his love for jude

😭😭no hate to anon but i can’t ever picture cardan NOT being faithful to jude. Also anon did you read “how the king of elfhame learned to hate stories”

btw I’ve made posts like this before(regarding his faith) and they dive into other aspects of why i think he was faithful: this one!!!

he singled jude out from the very beginning during palace school, he fell for jude WHILE he was with nicasia, for so many reasons.

he at first found her infuriating and frustrating for her advantages that she had and he didn’t, despite being raised on the idea that humans were garbage.

then he fell for her determination and audacity, her cunning and strength. even as jude made him look weak, he wanted her and only her.

Meanwhile, cardan hates ass-kissers, which is nicasia, and the rest of the court. He hates that courtiers will allow him to slap and use them, all while going home to people that actually loved them. This is stated in his novella.

Cardan is brought up on the idea that he is a prince that has nothing, that he is worthless despite his title, and he hates it. And that’s how the people treat him, adored and petted on for short times (mostly for favor), but ultimately abandoned and unloved.

Yes, cardan has had lovers, as seen in tcp, in twk, but never after the beggining of the wicked king when he’s shot at. of course courtiers drape themselves on him, but he is aware that they do not love him and that he does not love them, he has only grown not to lash out at them, at which i imagine was based on the fact that he was no longer under balekins suffrance (his beatings) and because he now had jude (even if they weren’t really allies at this point, he still craves Jude’s favor and acts accordingly, as seen as when he gives Taryn his army bc he thinks she’s jude, as seen as him trying time and time again to gain her favor in twk)

Because he wants jude to trust him. Even in the first book, even BEFORE the first book, in his novella, cardan WANTS jude to admire him. he wants jude to see him as he wishes to be seen, princely and powerful, i will attach a pic below from his novella:

(Honestly this pic ALONE pretty much seals the deal for me that he wouldn’t so much as look at another, let alone cheat on jude)

now, onto monogamy and fae standards:

Cardan has shown a clear dislike for many fae standards and cultures.

He sees humans differently from others, he sees life as precious and as something to hold onto, (I’m talking about his morals and his unwillingness to kill even someone that another faerie would consider beneath him), he is unlike his brothers in the power-hungry sense, he likes taking the easy way out, and he craves true love above all.

Jude’s monologue once said that faeries view lovemaking as a sport, as a game. But cardan also said that he never saw love as a game. And he cannot lie.

Add on: bro LITERALLY called jude his GOD. and he cannot lie… so why would he ever have anyone else? exactly!

Another thing, his view of human culture. We know he read Alice in wonderland. We also know that to humans, exchanging rings is commonly our wedding/marital tradition. It it not a fae tradition, for a bride and groom to give each other rings.

Cardan went out of his way to learn about Jude’s culture when proposing to her, and he also stole her ring very early on in the wicked king, so i can imagine that he was planning to propose for a while. To make her his queen.

It is also human culture to remain loyal and monogamous.

Then, when she left during the exile. he was devastated, and begged her to come home in letters that his mother did not send.

In twk, cardan learns, slowly but surely, how to be good. How to be a good king, a good person. For Jude. He learns that he doesn’t have to resort to drinking himself sick to avoid all the misery he endures, but to overcome those miseries and become a good man. and he does it partly for jude and also of course-for himself.

Cardan never knew he could be good, he could be loved. But jude taught him that. (If that isn’t enough to think that he wouldn’t remain monogamous then damn)

Then of COURSE there’s the fact that jude is human. there aren’t many unglamoured humans in elfhame, and obviously Jude’s body is different from a faerie. i like to think that cardan has a specific attraction to Jude’s human body, rather than the same old faerie bodies he’s seen. (I get it king)

LASTLY, i just want to remind us all of how cardan reacted when he found nicasia (of whom he was in a royal relationship with, like him and Jude) with Locke. the photos from his novella are below:

He views nicasias little fling with Locke as excruciating, as a horrible painful betrayal, and he trusted her not to hurt him. (Similar to him and jude, how they trust each other by the end of it, not to hurt one another)

and also, i highlighted “pretend” because although it is faerie standard to be poly in many relationships, cardan STILL is pained by her actions and his dignity and heart are both in shreds. he will pretend to love her after, if the opportunity arises and nicasia doesn’t love him, if it turns out to be just a fling, but he would still be pained by being with her.

if that is how cardan feels about being with lovers, about jude being poly or him being poly, why would he go and inflict that on jude?? he wouldn’t. what him and jude have is much more real than what he and nicasia had because it wasn’t built on obligation (and also the idea that nicasia was going to eventually murder him and steal his throne)

Moral of the story, cardan would not be with other lovers for these reasons: he loves her and he loves to be loved by her, he has learned human cultures to make himself a better husband for her and he follows those traditions, he is heavily distrustful and he dislikes courtiers. also him and jude are MARRIED ROYALTY, at which they are bound by the throne and the land to be together or whatever

anyway thanks for coming to my Ted talk! it shocks me that anyone would think that he would be with others, even if it is faerie culture, cardan is absolutely DEVOTED to that woman (i understand you king)

add on: also ofc jude is scared to get her heart hurt, she guards her heart the ENTIRE series until the end w cardan- and she’s sad when she sees him w nicasia when she asks cardan to get w her in twk. also he’s smoking hot and the king so yeah i would be thinking abt his sex life too lol. also- bro doesn’t even consider the thought that she thinks he may have been w another lover (in qon when they are about to bang) like he is so madly in love w her and she doesn’t even see it, they’re so cute! ALSO cardan has finally found love w jude so it doesn’t make sense for him to go and seek out another, especially since he’s distrusting and hates boot lickers lol

sorry for being so dead on here, I’m from the US so i was saving this last week for rotting my brain on TikTok for the last few days !! I’m working on more asks and ily 🫶 also feel free to add anything i probably missed!! This was messy and lmk if there are any typos!! ok bye

[thezombieprostitute]

Dragonfly - Part 2

Summary: Steve has just about everything he could ever want in life. He's got you, a baby on the way, and a successful Family. No one would dare interfere with that. Right?

A/N: Reader is female, pregnant. No other descriptors used.

Word Count: ~1k

Warnings: Death threats, Implied violence, Pregnancy. Please let me know if I missed any!

Part 1 -- Part 3

Series Masterlist

You’ve been stuck inside the house for days. It’s a beautiful house, you feel comfortable in it, but knowing you can’t leave makes you want out more than ever. You try to distract yourself by cooking and baking whatever it is the baby is craving but that only goes so far. Especially when you can feel Steve’s frustration adding to your own. Something needs to actually be done but, with nothing you can actually do, it’s just building up a lot of frustrated energy for both of you. He can at least use the home gym for some of his energy but all you’re allowed to use in there is the treadmill and it’s just not enough. 

Bucky finally has some news and calls you both into Steve’s office. You vaguely recognize the person with him as God the Bounty Hunter, or GBH as he allows only his closest circle to call him. Steve sets you in the chair behind his desk, the most comfortable one in the office, before sitting on the desk facing the two men. 

“GBH has been able to get an appointment with the person who runs the boards,” Bucky starts. Steve’s fists clench as he grabs the edge of the desk, fighting the urge to punch the faceless person. “It’s at the Cairo Hotel and I’m gonna recommend neither of you is there for it.”

“What?” Steve’s anger is evident in his clenched jaw.

“There are a few factors, Steve,” Bucky raises his hands. “Namely, I don’t think you can control yourself to follow the rules of neutrality at the appointment. We can’t afford to lose Pine’s support.” 

Steve lowers his head in understanding. You get up and gently rub your hand between his shoulder blades, trying to help him keep calm.

“Another factor is my professional standing,” GBH adds. “I have a reputation and clout to uphold. These aren’t the kind of people you want to piss off. Anything happens to Mr. Smith at an appointment with me, I’ll be done for. And not just professionally.”

“GBH assures me that there is procedure for a target to remove their contract or for someone else to do so on their behalf,” Bucky offers. “It’s likely gonna cost a lot, but I know that doesn’t matter.” Steve nods. “Plus, it’ll keep her off of the contract postings for at least five years.”

“But I am highly doubtful anyone will get any information on who posted the contract,” GBH confessed. Steve turned to glare at him but the other man seemed unaffected as he continued, “again, lots of regulation and factors. Namely trust within the business. No one’s gonna post a contract if there’s a chance the target finds out they’re the ones who opened it.”

“Just business, huh,” Steve mocks. 

You hug him from behind, “just getting the hit on me removed would be a major quality of life improvement.” You nuzzle your face against his shoulder. “And maybe we can send one of the Garbage Men to the appointment? They’re good at getting subtext and negotiations, right?”

Steve and Bucky both nod at your assessment. 

“I was planning on just me and God,” Bucky admits. “Would it be acceptable for us to bring a third?” 

GBH contemplates, “it shouldn’t be a problem. The key thing is that it’s at Pine’s establishment and he doesn’t have to worry about someone trying to hurt him in retaliation for doing his job.” 

Steve’s grip on the desk makes his knuckles go white. He hates the idea of his wife’s life or death being a matter of ‘business’. But he knows that’s how it is for everyone outside his circle. It’s the kind of thinking that he’s worked hard to make sure he doesn’t fall into. “Whatever you need to do, do it. I want this contract burnt.”

It’s finally the day of the contract appointment and you do your best to distract yourself and Steve. He’s always been willing to do whatever you needed but it’s been magnified since your confirmed pregnancy test a few months ago. Thinking it might help both of you to relax a little, you ask him to help you out. 

A foot massage for your swollen feet, keeping his hands busy and his thoughts focused on your moans of pleasure. 

A warm bath to help your muscle aches, keeping his attention focused on your naked body and the temperature of the water. 

Which, of course, led to the two of you in bed so he can properly worship your body. Part of you misses the rougher sex but you understand Steve’s hesitancy. And damn if he doesn’t still make you feel so good you forget your name. 

Steve holds your sleeping form in his arms, gently rubbing your belly. He knows you’ve been trying to distract him and he’s so grateful to you. He’s barely been able to keep from punching walls and checking his phone every five minutes. But taking care of you really helped to settle him. 

He hears the telltale chirp of his phone and moves as carefully as he can so that he doesn’t wake you. The message is from Bucky, Contract burnt. Possible lead thanks to Teach. His shoulders go lax as he finally feels the relief he’s been longing for. 

He returns to his place in the bed, holding you close. You barely wake up, just enough to make yourself comfortable and kiss his neck. It’s not completely safe for you and your baby boy yet. But now that the overarching danger has been taken care of, he can focus on finding and crushing the source. Whoever Dragonfly is, Steve vows they will die in agony by his own hand.

Part 1 -- Part 3

Series Masterlist

Tags:

@alicedopey; @aryhyuuga; @cynic-spirit; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @jamneuromain; @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory; @ktficworld; @leryg0; @rayofdawnworld; @rebekahdawkins; @talesofadragon; @texmexdarling

[dayntee]

You know, I’ve seen a lot of horrible shit on the internet. 10+ years in community management (and honestly even longer since basically the dawn of the internet, as an elder millennial) will do that. I totally get when I see comments like “the internet was a mistake” or “don’t waste your time on random internet strangers.”

And some of that is true. Like most technology, the human race made something cool and then immediately found the most heinous things they could do with it, often doubling down year after year. Plenty of people online are, in fact, shitbags and shouldn’t be trusted.

But I also can’t fully prescribe to the idea that we’d be better off without it or that it had never happened. Honestly? I probably would not have survived high school or even my most recent stint of unemployment without it. Because the internet has given me meaningful connections I would have never found otherwise.

I’ve made friends for life through work, fandom, and online games. People I love and cherish even if I may never know their real name or see their faces.

And the awful people I’ve met? I find they filter themselves out pretty quickly, casting a spotlight on their garbage out of some demented form of pride. Once you know how to spot it, it gets easier to avoid. If you can learn and have the tools to ignore it, even better. Like any bully, starving them of the attention they crave is the fastest way to combat them.

It’s not fool proof. Some people are just that determined to be shitbags. But I find their noise so insignificant in the face of the veritable horde of positivity, compassion, and friendship I’ve found in my community spaces.

I like to think I lead by example; I try to pour out love and support whenever I can, because I’m paying it forward. In doing so, I’ve had so many magical moments come back to me. I wouldn’t be here without the kindness I’ve been blessed with by internet friends. I wouldn’t have my career. I probably wouldn’t have my husband (even if he has his own rightful reasons to hate and avoid the internet too).

I’m gonna keep putting good out there whenever I can. And if something stupid and cruel and selfish comes your way and you feel that weight of the algorithm bearing down to feed you nothing but pain and hate, but you’ve seen this post?

Well, at least one internet weirdo out there is thinking about you, wishing you the best, and hoping you find a little light amongst the dark.

Back to aggressively supporting my friends, faceless and otherwise. ❤️

[raindropren]

Some Hermit(+rats) sketches(+Plus the rambles I'm required to write about them)!

going from the ones I like the most to the ones that look more like doodles then sketches lolsie

A Joel! I wanted to try my hand at a S!10 Joel! I've been watching him for quite abit now and He's become one of my favorite hermits(an unsurprisingly long list ngl) :3 Also I found the Animator PerryRata a bit ago and I love how skrunkly they draw everyone, especially Joel, lol. I also have a ton of Joel headcanons from back during empires! He's made of clay and he can form his own body like you would a clay sculpture :D It's my headcanon for why his physical body changes without the use of outside "mods" He's also just a funky silly guy, and I really like how I drew this. Also the tanuki headcanons really fun, to me it's more, raccoon, but it can be either at this point :P

A Jevin! I'll admit I haven't watched him much, but I really wanted to try my hand at drawing a slime character who actually,,, like,,, looks like slime,,, instead of,,, really human with slime bits, lol. I also had a certain body type in mind so ya! I have few headcanons for him but I've thought alittle about how his slime body would work in my AU, so that's fun!

A Non-Hermit! A Garbage Rat Oli! Specifically season 2 Rats tho, lol! I very clearly just wanted to try my hand at drawing a rat on two legs, Garbage's very all over the place in the sketch. The lines are messy and that was kinda on purpose(Garbage whole look and personality is messy and I wanted to kinda,,, feel that in the art and design,, lol) also I was completely going from memory at some points :p

A non-hermit! A Rat Shubble! I don't remember what her like, thing was(like the titles most rats seem to have) but I do know she's lovely and I missed her. I was at my sister house, taking a break from craving pumpkins, and thought about the fact that Oli thought she,,, turned into,, a pumpkin, so I decided to draw her lol! I was trying to keep her cuter then Oli, alittle more put together, and I think I conveyed that at least alittle bit, :3 (also her outfits are so easy, Shubble please never change your outfits from the sweater + overall combo, Complicated outfits are my downfall LOL /lh)

A Etho! This was probably one of the better Etho sketches I did while trying to figure out what the hell his design's deal was ;w; I was having a very hard time but I think the eyes saved it on this one, it looks cute compared to some others! lol! also I gave him a little braid for no reason other then "cute!" lolsie

A second Joel! Secret life specially! I just wanted to draw him in a hoodie, I like drawing hoodies :] I'll make a slightly more complicated design later, but I like how he's just, in a hoodie, that season lol

A second Jevin! Frogger time!!! :O It's Jevin in that frog costume(drawn from memory instead of actually looking so it probably looks really wrong lol) I just really wanted to draw him again :]

A Gem! I was drawing newer peeps so I drew gem as like, a easier thing to doodle :'3 Also I had forgotten her hair buns in past sketches,,, oops

A Pearl! This ones much older than the others(as in, It's on the same page as the meme's with Pearl and Tim Drake lol), I just didn't find it good enough to post sadly ;w; It's a first try at Postmaster Pearl, from memory of course xP She's very cute but I don't think I tried even slightly on this one. you can tell cause I forgot a surprising amount.

and, Lastly, two more Etho's! I think these are cute, I'm just not proud of them at all, might not even look like Etho! but I still like them more then some of the others on that page,,,, They're silly, but not very good ;w;

Welp! That's it! I've been basically collecting my mcyt doodles to post, cause I don't deem a sketch or two alone, good enough to post :'] A hand full amount of doodles is enough for me tho, lol.

I'm real glad I've been expanding the number of hermits i've drawn tho! Yippeee!!

[austinslounge]

Austin is so cute on new pics with fans. I like his sleepy look including a wrinkled t-shirt. Have you seen his ex shaded him in People magazine? It is allegedly a source close to her but we know it's her.

"Lewis has a different vibe from some of Kaia's exes, and she really appreciates that," the source says. "He's very low-key, and she likes that he's not caught up in the spotlight. He just has this calm, down-to-earth energy, and she finds it really comforting."

Austin is actually very low-key with calm and down-to-earth energy. She is one who craves attention all the time.

Yes, unfortunately I've seen that garbage. 🙄

I was about to post a whole rundown analysis line for line of that hot mess of a nothingness article, but I decided against it. 😤

It's not worth it. Plus, all it does is bring more clicks to their link, and more attention on her.

Btw, haven't most of her exes been low-key? The only person who's never been low-key is this talentless, attention-seeking Nepobaby.

I feel bad for Austin. It's annoying that these two broke up nearly a year ago, and she's still flapping her gums to the media about a breakup of a relationship that nobody really even cared two cents about. Anything to keep your name in the media I guess.

Anyway, I know Austin will prevail. I think more and more people are starting to realize that something isn't adding up, and everyone who meets and knows Austin loves him to death, and meanwhile, she's looking petty, shady, desperate, obsessed with her ex, and fake.

Her mask is falling off, and I think more and more people are seeing her for what she is.

[the-fluff-piece]

For the now closed follower milestone event!

Also check my other stuff:

Stories and headcanons

I had a dream... + zoro + sexy for @plainsulla

Sorry for only getting around to finishing the milestone requests now! I am just no good at writing when I am stressed and it's too hot and I don't want to post a story I feel is absolute garbage...

so I hope you like:

Dream Girl

Zoro is a great sleeper, he has so much practice at it. So of course it throws him completely off balance when he begins to lose control of his dreams. Content: Zoro dreams sexy dreams about you and flirts aggressively. Contains sexy scenes but no smut

Zoro fought viciously. He watched his blades cut through the waves of faceless enemies with deadly precision and force. Sweat dripping from his bare chest, jaws already aching from holding his third sword. Go further. The hallway was lined with wano-style shoji doors, it seemed to stretch endlessly. He pressed on, towards his goal.

A big enemy, swinging a Hammer - no match for Zoro's speed or strength. A swift cut - the Hammer fell together with his master. Heaving, he let his swords slip back into their sheaths, a good fight.

The door directly ahead of him was painted with flowers and waterfalls. He opened them, finding a sweet surprise behind. A mass of concubines was giggling and already clinging to him, praising his strength with high, female voices.

"We have a gift for you" they cooed and led him to a large room, empty but for a mass of pillows in its centre. He almost drooled as he saw who lay there: y/n was seductively posing in the soft cushions, her eyelids heavy, her mouth painted red as blood. She wore an ornate kimono, the obi bound in front - like a whore would wear it. Not like it actually covered her body, it hung off her shoulders and a wide gap in the middle revealed the sweet space between her soft breasts, her belly. Knowing how to tease him, she had clamped her legs shut, blocking the sight he craved.

Pushed and encouraged by the concubines, Zoro practically flew on top of her and pinned her arms above her head, growling like an animal, licking his lips.

She moaned like he was already inside her. Zoro was as horny as he never was before.

He awoke shaken by lust and his own bucking hips - and his face on the floor. It took him a few seconds to realise that he had fallen out of his hammock. He groggily sat up, still absolutely randy. What was he dreaming about? It was stupid hot, he was sure, but the specifics already dwindled. He stumbled into the bathroom to finnish what his dream had started and get a clear head again.

But even as he sat down for breakfast, he still couldn't shake the weird feeling he had.

Bent over his tea and a sandwich, his mind grasped at the bits and pieces he could remember. Wano country? He fought. It happened a lot in his dreams. Mhm, concubines! That happened sometimes. But there was a bit more. As he dug in his own head for the memory that made him feel like a horny teenager, someone sat down opposite him.

"Morning y/nnaaaaaaaaa" he tried to greet his crewmate, but as soon as he looked in her face, he remembered with an uncomfortable clarity. His price, in a slutty outfit, there for him to take. As the memory of the dream returned, crashing is self control, his mouth stopped receiving orders and he almost chocked on a piece of bread. He coughed so loudly Chopper hurried to him and patted his back softly with his litttle hoof.

"Zoro, breathe!" the deer gave him his expert opinion as Zoro waved him off and got a grasp on himself.

He never looked much at women, unless they had swords to fight him, and especially he swore to never look at his crewmates this way to avoid complications. But right now, he couldn't tear his eye off her, staring, as bite by bite, her breakfast disappeared into her mouth. It had been red in his dream, but just as seductive with its natural shade.

When she spoke to Usopp, laughing at one of his stupid stories, Zoro had to swallow, he was reminded of that maddening moan from his dream that literally kicked him out of bed.

Fuck, she is absolutely cute, Zoro thought, chewing his breakfast. Remembering his past interactions with her, he realised that he felt most comfortable around her out of all the crew, maybe even more than with Luffy. She was always patient when he got lost, she was impressed by his skill, she tended to his wounds and thanked him when he had fought for her. And she laughed at his jokes, sometimes when no one else seemed to even notice them.

The more he thought about it, the clearer it became: he actually did think about her like a prize he won for fighting. When he had been absolutely out after his encounter with Kuma, she had taken great care of him, making him feel warm and safe.

No use in denying it anymore. He had a thing for her.

Fuck, he thought.

Fuckfuck, his mind repeated.

"I cannot fucking deal with this"he thought while wolfing down breakfast without really tasting it.

You

Full day ahead of you - you promised Nami to take care of her trees for today and than you wanted to help Chopper catalogue his herbs.

With your shears in hand, you got to work. There was a branch that would grow inward, possibly making the tree crown too dense, so you stretched and stretched to reach it without having to use the ladder. It was just out of reach, but suddenly moved towards you and you could grab it. You looked up - a scar and a light blue eye looked back down at you.

"Hey Zoro, thank you for helping me!" you thanked the swordsman. He was towering over you and could reach the higher parts with ease. He was also standing less than an inch behind you, so when you looked up your head almost bumped into his chest. Usually he respected other people's private space a bit more.

"No problem!" he answered and smiled. "Need me to grab anything else?" He asked, and swallowed as he realised that it sounded suggestive.

"No, not really" you told him - and lost your balance as you looked up at him and tried to turn around at the same time. He caught you with ease around your waist and brought you up against his chest, causing you to face him.

You were just catching your breath as his eyes grew heavy-lidded and his face came nearer.

His lips hovered above yours for a second, so close you could almost taste them, before he suddenly jerked his head back like he was burned.

You managed a small "thank you" and he let you down, looking flustered.

And things didn't get much better from here. He followed you around like a puppy, the whole day, growling at any crewmates that tried to communicate with you - except the girls and Chopper.

He grumpily sat beside you at dinner and looked like he could kill Sanji when he brought you an extra treat.

After dinner, he disappeared with a bottle of sake and it took you some time to find him huddled in a corner on deck, well on his way to getting drunk.

"Zoro, what's wrong with you today?" You demanded to know.

"Nuffin'" He mumbled, not looking at you.

"Following me all day and starting fights with the others is so unlike you, that's not nothing. What's wrong?" You asked again, bending down to look at his face.

"Nothing!" He shouted aggressively.

"I am not leaving until you tell me!" You stated your point again. You've had it with him.

"So you wann know?" He asked, clearly upset.

"Yes." You answered.

"You wanted it..." he said and took a step toward you, grabbing zur chin.

"It's you" He said, "you're doing this to me. I cannot deal with this right now..."

"I didn't to ANY-"your beginning protest is drowned by Zoro's greedy lips, practically eating you up. You felt a moan rumbling through his throat as he pressed you closer against his chest.

After an enticing moment that felt like an eternity, he let you go, panting and challenged you with a look.

His handsome face was red, his eye glinting, as he licked his lips as if he wanted to taste you once more.

"Now you know" he stated, studying your face.

"I can't fucking deal with this" you blurted out as you realised that everything has changed between you.

His shoulders started to shake - a deep laugh burst out of him.

"Me neither!" he chuckled. It was infectious and you had to laugh, too.

"Let's not deal with this, ever" he said, still laughing.

"Nah, let's not" you chimed in.

For a moment, you enjoyed the shared laughter, but as soon as it subsided, a nerve-wrecking silence fell over you. He nervously rubbed the back of his head as you stared at your shoes.

You kind of feared that this was it - case closed. As you looked up, you could barely brace yourself for impact again as he fell upon you, pinning you to the deck of the going merry.

"Not. Dealing. With. This" he breathed, his words immediately betrayed by his mouth as he devoured yours once again.

So yeah, that's you and Zoro not dealing with shit

[delicateartisantrash]

Wanted to pop by and say I found you recently due to RubyPasha. But..

HOW CAN YOU DRAG ME KICKING AND SCREAMING BACK INTO TRANSFORMERS?!?!

TO THE TRASHMAN HIMSELF NETHERLESS?!?

Like I always had hots for soundwave but that’s a given…

BUT WHHHHYYYYY DO YOU HAVE TO BLESS MY RYES WITH MASTERPIECES?!?

On other note I crave more chapters of your stuff when you are capable. Can’t wait to see what you update next! Stay safe and well!

Awww, thank you so much for stopping by to say hi and write! Made my day.

And you can blame this ( @ss-shitstorm ) beautiful glorious person because THEY dragged ME into the garbage disposal with trashmastiff

and then teased me with Soundwave which is how GOK and LS were born

More chapters are being written! :D as ever I have no ETA for exact post dates, I just post them when they're ready. Sometimes that's daily sometimes that's a month

or if it's Travel Buddies it's over two years now I think, and SOTS was wallowing in dusty pixels since 2018 until I resumed writing it like 3 months ago

unrelated-related LOOK AT THIS CUTE GIF I FOUND

[rimatsu]

'doubting the veracity of buck's words when nothing about that scene or the following episodes suggest that he's in denial/losing sleep over a suspicion he firmly and exasperatedly shut down' how about you doubting the veracity of his words when he told tommy he had feelings for eddie, did not have feelings for him, and later, removed from the situation told maddie that he had zero interest in getting back with tommy and only slept with him to get over eddie lmao.

LMAOOOOOOO last night's episode and its implications must've rattled you good if you're quoting a post i made 2 weeks ago out of nowhere to spew utter garbage while ignoring the damning clarification buck gave maddie at the end of 811. let it go bruh. there's no canon buddie, there was never any canon buddie, and there will never be any canon buddie. i know it, you know it, and the journos selling you lies for clicks know it too. hell even your mama knows it! ao3 can satisfy your cravings but you gotta accept it or drop the show

[adhdnursegoat]

Premiere!

The first three chapters of The Edge of Us are posted to Ao3! I hope you enjoy! Chapter 1/the prologue can be found below. See link to full work at the bottom!

Enjoy, goats/kids!

The funny thing about power…once you’ve tasted it, it’s the only flavor worth craving.

Gotham: the city that feeds off its own decay. 

To the average mind, it’s just a place of misfortune, filth, and bad timing—a battleground where the worst parts of humanity crawl out from under the rocks to have their day. 

But it’s more than that, isn’t it? 

The world is rotten, but Gotham? Gotham perfects it. This city doesn’t just wear its grime; it drapes itself in it, revels in the stink. Criminals here don’t bother with masks, and the so-called “heroes” don’t look much different than the scum they claim to fight. They’re all actors in a play nobody wanted tickets to, shuffling through their parts, pretending the whole time that it’s something worth fighting for…

Citizens stumble over the cracks in the pavement, breathing in fumes that would choke anyone with a shred of sense. They shuffle through the streets, heads down, eyes half-open, thinking they’re safe if they don’t look too hard. They’re sheep, scurrying through a city that’s sick to its core, all the while the ones at the top keep them under their thumb, pulling their strings like marionettes. They don’t notice a thing. To them, this is just another day in Gotham—a little rough around the edges, sure, but manageable if they keep their heads down and stick to their petty routines.

The poison in the air, the rot spreading through every corner—it’s not just the smell of the streets, it’s in the people, too. They’d rather breathe in the stench of corruption than acknowledge what’s been rotting under their feet for decades. They don’t care, not really, so long as the dirt and decay stay beneath the surface, so long as the ugly truth doesn’t disrupt their comfortable numbness. They’ll let Gotham crumble, brick by brick, piece by piece, from the inside out, so long as it happens quietly. It’s easier that way.

Maybe they’re too far gone to see it. Maybe they’re just afraid to look.

But that’s the tragedy of this city, isn’t it? The more it rots, the deeper its citizens bury their heads in the sand. Denial is their coping mechanism, their security blanket against the truth, and they wrap themselves in it tighter every day. Even as the city darkens, they cling to the idea that nothing’s wrong, that this is just Gotham’s way. The cracks in the concrete, the garbage piling up in alleyways, the shadows encroaching—they treat it all like background noise, scenery in the theater of their denial.

And if that wasn’t absurd enough, now there’s a man jumping off buildings in a costume, dishing out his brand of justice from behind a mask. A bat in the night, lurking on rooftops, swooping down with his fists and his gadgets, as if he’s the answer Gotham has been waiting for. A vigilante, a judge, jury, and executioner all rolled into one, convinced he can set right what’s broken. Self-appointed justice wrapped in Kevlar and rubber, clinging to the belief that he’s some force for change, that he’s somehow better than the criminals he hunts.

But what does he know about change? About Gotham’s sickness, the filth embedded so deeply it’s woven into the foundation of every skyscraper? He thinks he’s making a difference by leaving broken jaws and bruises in his wake, but all he’s doing is treating symptoms, like bandaids on bullet wounds. 

And the people? 

Oh, they eat it up. 

Some love him. 

Some hate him. 

Either way, they are talking about him.

The silent victims wallow in desperation for a hero, for a savior in the dark, someone to make them feel safe without ever asking them to confront what they’re really hiding from. They don’t realize that a man in a mask can’t save a city like Gotham. It’s too far gone for that, too used to its own decay. Maybe they’d understand that if they’d take a real look at the city around them, if they peeled back the wallpaper to see the termite infested structure, if they treated the sepsis festering in their police department and city hall. But they won’t. Because they’d rather believe in a fairy tale, in a hero with wings who can swoop down and make everything right without asking anything to change.

 Ridiculous. 

If he’s being honest, he can appreciate the nerve. At least someone’s trying to push against the status quo, to make this city something other than the mess it is.

He respects the attempt.

But he could do it better.

And it eats at him, you know? 

This knowledge that he could be so much more, that he could do so much more if he weren’t confined to this box, locked in with these idiots who think they’re saving Gotham one speeding and parking ticket at a time. These police, they’re as blind as the criminals they chase, running circles around each other and getting nowhere. It’s a cycle, a routine as dead as the city they claim to protect. 

And he? 

He’s trapped here, forced to watch from the sidelines as they flounder, the only one who sees the truth, the only one with the intelligence and balls to think independently.

There’s a part of him—dark, simmering, waiting—that knows he’s meant for more. He is born to change things, to show Gotham what it could be if it weren’t burdened by the inept and corrupt. Yet here he is, cursed to work in shadows, unrecognized, unappreciated, his potential wasted in a city that wouldn’t know brilliance even if it had a bright, green, neon sign. And sometimes, he wonders if Gotham even deserves saving. This city, these corrupt officials, the police, these pathetic citizens who live with the sickness festering in front of them—they must be enlightened. Stripped of their illusions, their petty routines, rebuilt from the ground up by someone who understands.

But the problem with Gotham? 

It’s too used to its own stench to even try changing. 

Who is he, in all this filth, to try and show them the way? 

He’s a reluctant ghost in their midst, a man asking questions no one dares to ask, a man with answers they don’t even know they need, a man with a mind sharper than any weapon in this city, reduced to sitting in the dark, waiting for someone—anyone—to notice.

They’d call it desperation. 

He calls it purpose. 

And it’s this purpose that sets him apart from them, this knowledge that he can be more, that he should be more. He doesn’t need a cape or a mask to be dangerous. He only needs what he’s already got: his mind, a gift he’s wasted long enough. 

He can see it now, the power of information—of knowledge.

He can feel it coming, a change in the air, a hum of something new. He doesn’t fully understand it yet, this shift that seems to hover just out of sight, a challenge on the horizon waiting to be met. A curiosity lurking in the corners of his mind. He’s close, he can feel it, standing on the edge of something inevitable, something transformative. He’s about to be seen. He will be more.

I will be more.

Full work on Ao3 here!

[the-font-bandit]

What can I say? I'm a sucker for media that digs deep into ugly, toxic relationships.

Listen on Spotify Here

Tracklist:

Animal - Chase Holfelder

When Doves Cry - Prince

Pretty When You Cry - Vast

Bad Romance (Epic Trailer Version) - J2, SAI

Gravity - Sara Bareilles

The Only Time - Nine Inch Nails

Where the Dark Things Are - Kerli

Love Hurt Bleed - Gary Numan

Suffer - Hurts

Post Blue - Placebo

The Space In Between - How To Destroy Angels

Sweet Little Lies (Epic Trailer Version) - J2, Midian

I Want My Innocence Back - Emilie Autumn

The Devil is a Gentleman - Merci Raines

You're No Good (Epic Trailer Version) - Hidden Citizens, Rånya

Tempted (Conjure One Mix) - Collide

Lucifer - Elle Lexxa

Get Ready - Chase Holfelder

Toxic - Rumer Willis

One Way Or Another - Until The Ribbon Breaks

Possession - Denmark + Winter

Mouth (Stingray Mix) - Bush

#1 Crush (Nellee Hooper Mix) - Garbage

Fresh Blood - Eels

Under Your Skin - Aesthetic Perfection

Tear You Apart - She Wants Revenge

Can't Get You Out Of My Head - In.Visible, Clan of Xymox

Me And The Devil - Soap&Skin

Beautiful Killer - Samsaruh

Fire and Whispers - IAMX

Craving - Godhead

Headstone - Mesh

I Hate Myself for Loving You - Halestorm

Bye Bye Bye - Aesthetic Perfection, Nikki Misery

Haunting Me - Stabbing Westward