#i just really didn’t like watching their passion turn to hatred

[gr4cel4nd2]

i need a movie like In Secret but instead of it taking a dark turn, i want a version where laurent and thérèse don’t end up hating each other

[venuscxre]

CUPID’S CHOKEHOLD .ᐟ

summary ; lancelot x cupid!reader headcannons.

request ; “ hii, i was wondering if you could do lancelot x cupid! reader headcanons? she was like adopted by meliodas and elizabeth when she was an infant and stuff so shes like a holy knight (or one of four, which makes five) she is like the knight of hatred/love if you get what i mean??? idk if this makes any sense but its my first request as you can tell. it would a lot if you could do this since its been on my mind. however, no rush and just taker caree. ” — anon

pairing ; lancelot / black fem cupid!reader

tags ; fluff, mutual pining, the reader is a bit of an airhead, elizabeth and meliodas are her adoptive parents.

notes ; dinner is served!

𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞

lancelot with a cupid!reader who he always found quite… odd while growing up, choosing to steer clear of her during their childhood.

growing up into their teenage years, he found her less of a weirdo and more of an airhead. he found that she’d often space out, thinking of who knows what and always stood the risk of getting herself hurt because of it.

with her clumsiness and the knack she has for spacing out in the worst situations, lancelot just accepted his fate and decided to have an eye out on her, tailing her from behind at a good distance without her knowing to avoid her getting herself hurt or into trouble.

he’d watch in amusement whenever she’d help someone with relationship problems or even help budding relationships bloom. her passion for helping people find their other halves or help a relationship flourish is something he found slightly intrusive but didn’t say anything about it. at the end of the day, she was helping people and they seemed happy, so just kept his mouth shut about his opinions.

soon enough, the liones siblings and lancelot slowly hung out less and less as they all became increasingly busy with their training as knights of the prophecy.

when lancelot and tristan were assigned to go find the last two knights of the apocalypse, she secretly tagged along with lancelot, although the fairy was already aware of her presence; he could hear her thoughts from a mile away.

despite his original weariness of her, lancelot didn’t seem to mind having her around as much as he thought he would. she turned out to be really good company; he hated to admit it, but she was funny, he almost tried to persuade her into becoming a comedian rather than continuing on as a knight.

when they eventually managed to find cute lil’ percival, it was like she had cloned herself and split her brain cell, because those two were birds of a feather; optimistic and stupid as fuck. but they were cuties so he’d give them a pass.

during their time together, lancelot, albeit reluctant to come to terms with it, found that she was starting to grow on him. he’d find himself always listening to whatever thing she was rambling on about, making sure she’s alright during or after a battle with chaos knights, and making sure that she doesn’t walk into another tree like she did last time. he also found himself becoming a little more protective of her than usual. he knows that she can protect herself, but seeing her hurt kind of angers him in a way; a way that he can’t describe.

as someone who deals with love and everything in the sense of the word, the cupid!reader already knows the telltale signs of a crush, no matter what type of person they might be. she couldn’t help but feel giddy when she noticed some of the signs in lancelot’s recent behaviour towards her; having liked him for the longest time.

by the time they and the percival platoon reached liones, there was a significant change in the relationship between lancelot and the cupid!reader; the both of them being easily mistaken as lovers. this change in their relationship didn’t go unnoticed by the rest of the royal family or the tristan platoon. and at the realization that something might be going on between the two, a spark of protectiveness was lit within the king and prince.

during the showdown with arthur pendragon, she had sustained some serious damage whilst trying to evacuate the citizens, which further fueled lancelot’s hostility towards the king of chaos.

after getting healed and put on bed rest, lancelot made sure to stick by her side, not wanting to take his eyes off her for a minute. it was bad enough that percy had lost slight control when he and the rest of the platoon almost got taken out by isolde and co. he still needs to get back at that bastard chion for all the ruckus he’d caused.

“you know that i’m perfectly fine now, right? you don’t need to follow me around like this, lance.”

while you don’t mind the attention you’re getting from lancelot, it is getting increasingly hard to mask how flustered you're becoming. you wish that he could tone it down just a bit so that your heart doesn’t burst out of your chest.

“i’m not taking any more chances with you. you’re always getting hurt in one way or another, you damn klutz,” he grumbled, lightly flicking your forehead and snickering when your lips curl into a pout.

“hey! that’s mean—“

“watch it!” lancelot’s arm shoots out to grab your waist, pulling you into his side to prevent you from walking straight into one of the cracks in the middle of the road, curtsey of arthur’s attack earlier. he raises an eyebrow, looking down at you with a ‘see what i mean?’ expression.

“you should pay better attention to your surroundings, princess. i’m not always going to be by your side to protect you,” he gives your waist a light squeeze, not letting go.

“yeah, yeah..” you mumble, trying to suppress your thoughts that had begun to run laps in your head from how close he was.

lancelot chuckled slightly as you tried (and failed) to hide your thoughts from him; one of them did pique his interest, however. “you think i smell nice, princess?”

you feel yourself die inside a little as your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. damn it, damn it, damn it.

at your embarrassment, he lets out a louder laugh. “you never fail to amuse me, princess. but i must say, thank you for the compliment.”

“quit it. you’re being a jerk, lance...”

“you know you love me, princess. i know you do,” he presses a kiss to your cheek. you pause, your body going rigid as you try to process what he’d just done.

“did... did you just...” you stammer, unable to finish your sentence as your brain short circuits.

“kiss you? yeah, i did. you want another one?” he teased, leaning down so that your faces are inches away from each other.

“i—i..”

“your call, princess. i won’t kiss you unless you tell me to,” he murmured.

unable to form proper words, you nod. lancelot contemplates on teasing you some more, but decides against it for now. he presses a gentle kiss to your lips, his hand caressing your waist as he does. you kiss for a few seconds before pulling away from each other, both of you a little red faced.

“c’mon, let’s go see percy and the others.”

[cetaitlaverite]

Call It What You Want

or: The Three Times They Lied to Each Other and the One Time They Told the Truth

Masters of the Air - John Brady x OC

informal part 2 to this short fic but can be read as a standalone. also features characters from my multi-chapter rosie x oc fic 'why all this music?' but, again, this can be read on its own. by popular demand, here is 6k words of millie and brady's clownery. you asked and i delivered (i hope). they're iconic your honour and sooo much fun to write. hope you loooooove <3

It took Millie several moments to calm her raging blush when she first caught sight of John Brady waiting for her outside the tower. It was impossible to look at him and not remember the way they’d kissed last night. She wanted to blame it on the darkness they’d been blanketed in when he’d first done it, wanted to blame it on the alcohol she’d consumed. But in the light of day as she watched him wander in idle circles in the grass, his hands in his pockets and his eyes squinted into the sunshine, she knew she’d be lying to herself to blame everything which had transpired between them on anything other than passion. Fiery hatred or fiery desire, it didn’t matter; both of them were impossible to ignore.

When her cheeks cooled down and she’d assumed some semblance of composure, Millie resumed her walk to work. Really, she lectured herself, he might not even be waiting for her. She wasn’t the only wireless operator who worked in the tower, let alone the only person who worked in there - he could have been waiting for anyone, one of his superiors included. But when she got close to the door he turned, as though sensing her, and straightened his posture. The way he was looking at her told her she’d been right; he was there for her.

“Harlow,” he greeted coolly.

“Brady,” she replied. “You’re not even flying today and yet you’re still here to lecture me on my skills as a wireless op. That’s true dedication, Brady, really, but I can assure you you’re the only pilot on this base who takes any issue with the way I do my job.”

Brady’s lips turned down in a sour approximation of a smile but he didn’t retort, as she might have expected. Instead, he said quietly, “About last night -”

Hearing him acknowledge it while the sun was high in the sky, while she was looking directly into his eyes and watching his lips move, while no single part of him was concealed by darkness and no single part of her was, either, was too much. Millie felt her stomach flip and her hands start to sweat. She hurried to cut across him, “Nothing happened last night.”

Brady raised his eyebrows at her. “Oh? So I must’ve dreamed that we kissed.”

“I’m sure it’s a dream you have often,” Millie replied. “Not to worry, you wouldn’t be the only one.”

He rolled his eyes. “We kissed, Harlow, and you know it.”

“I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about,” she said. But, regardless, when he opened his mouth to reply she took him by the elbow and towed him behind her around the back of the tower, away from prying eyes and ears who may have been curious to know what the two of them were arguing about this time.

“So -” Brady began when they were alone.

Again, Millie cut him off. “We didn’t kiss.”

Brady scoffed. “We did. Twice, in fact.”

“Why would I ever kiss you?” Millie demanded, squeezing her hands into fists and tucking them behind her back. “I don’t even like you.”

Brady was smirking even as he rolled his eyes at her. “You don’t need to be so defensive about it. I was just coming here to say it’s never gonna happen again. So, you know, don’t get your hopes up or anything.”

He was so self-righteous, convincing himself he was letting her down gently. He’d come here thinking he was rejecting her?

“Don’t get my hopes up?” Millie echoed with a scoff. “How typical of you, to convince yourself that you’ve got the upper hand. What, did you fancy that I’ve been twirling my hair and kicking my feet, waiting for you to come ask me to marry you?”

Brady shrugged. “Something like that.”

“You’re a real arsehole.”

“But am I wrong?”

“Yes!” Millie cried. “If you remember correctly, you kissed me!”

“You kissed me after!” Brady exclaimed right back at her.

“A major lapse in judgement!” she defended herself.

“On my part as well,” Brady hissed.

Millie scoffed. “You grabbed my arm and took me away from the club -”

“To talk -”

“We could’ve done that outside the club! We didn’t need to be in some alley to argue, we do it everyday!”

“Maybe I didn’t want everyone overhearing!”

“Everyone’s overheard us a million times before,” Millie pointed out. Now her eyebrows were raised with palpable suspicion. “Why did you only decide it mattered last night? Hm? And only after you interrupted my dance with Benny?”

Brady stared her down. He had no answer for her. Millie could tell by the twisting of his lips and the way his fingers were twitching in his pockets, straining against the fabric of his trousers like he was pressing down on the keys of his saxophone, that he was fighting for a viable explanation.

Her eyes were dancing. Her smile was smug. “Because you wanted to kiss me,” she deduced. “Admit it. There’s no shame in it, Brady, you’d hardly be the first man who’s wanted to.”

“You’re so goddamn arrogant,” he snarled. “You’re the last woman on this base I’d want to kiss, Harlow. The very last.”

“Yes, because the ladies are just lining up for you, Brady, you miserable -”

“I don’t see anyone else tripping over themselves to fall at your feet,” Brady cut her off.

Millie raised her eyebrows. “Yes, you do.”

“So why don’t you go for them? Why do you spend all your time in the club staring at me?” Now Brady was smug, removing his hands from his pockets to cross his arms over his chest.

Millie scowled. “I do not stare at you.”

“You do.”

“Only if I feel you glaring at me.”

“I only glare at you when I feel you staring.”

“Chicken and egg,” Millie replied. “It’s beside the point. The point is, you took me to that alley last night because you wanted to kiss me.” Her eyes were penetrating, fiery, as they bore into his. “Admit it,” she said slowly, savouring the taste of the words.

“No,” Brady said lowly. “I didn’t want to kiss you, Harlow. In your dreams.”

“You didn’t want to,” Millie repeated, “and yet you did. You did kiss me. And you wanted to. Admit it.”

“No.”

“Admit it.”

“No.”

Millie took a step closer to him, craning her neck back to maintain the hold she had on his eyes. Her smirk was small and yet it was there, playing at the corners of her lips. Her gaze, she knew, was sultry. She’d perfected it a while ago.

Close enough that they could hold a sheet of paper aloft between them, Millie lowered her voice to only barely above a whisper. She gazed at him from beneath her eyelashes. “Admit it, John.”

She could only admit to herself that she’d wanted him to kiss her when he did, when he had her pressed up against the wall of the tower, one hand cupping her cheek and the other on her hip, tugging it towards him. Just like last night, his lips were fast and feverish, desperate against her own, like he was worried this would be the last time he’d ever get to touch her like this.

She couldn’t find it within herself to resent herself for kissing back. Just like last night, it was addictive. She’d never been kissed like this, never kissed anyone like this either. Kissing was something entirely other when it was done with John Brady.

His hands kept to modest areas but the heat they trailed may as well have been against her bare skin. As his hand slid up from her hip, past her waist and over her shoulder, up to the back of her neck beneath her hair, as his other hand slid down from her cheek and drew across to the centre of her back, encouraging her to arch up off the wall into him, the hold he had on her felt more intimate than anything she’d ever done with any other man.

It was just kissing.

Why did it feel like so much more?

When they drew apart briefly, so briefly, for breath, it was just enough time for Millie to gasp, “So you did want to kiss me!”

It was also just enough time for Brady to reply, “Shut up,” right before he caught her lips in another searing kiss, slower than the last and somehow more intense because of it.

Millie wanted to take advantage of their closeness and put her hands all over him the way he was doing to her, but she could not for the life of her seem to get her hands out of his hair. It was exactly as soft as she’d imagined - maybe even softer - and the way he groaned lowly into her mouth when she tugged on it just a little bit too hard was more intoxicating than any alcohol she’d ever consumed.

She knew she was making a mess of him. Knew that he’d have to go all the way back to his hut to redo his hair in the bathroom, return the strands to their rightful positions meticulously like he did every morning - as she imagined, at least. And it brought her joy to imagine him having to hurry back there to do it, lest he get caught and anyone ask why he looked like he’d been dragged through a hedge. He’d have an excellent time trying to explain this, she was sure; the way his tongue was licking hotly into her mouth, the way his hands were dragging reverently over her curves, the way he was pressing his body into hers - all of it would be a tough thing to explain to anyone without blushing.

The foggy haze smothering Millie’s critical thinking cleared only when she heard Freddie’s voice, presumably talking to Jem as the two of them walked to the tower. They’d been taking forever to get ready this morning so Millie had left ahead of them; they would know that something was off if Millie was later than them into work.

Carefully, this time, and with significantly less force, Millie placed her hands on John’s chest and pushed him back. When he started to speak she covered his mouth, narrowing her eyes to make him remain silent, and the two of them listened to Freddie and Jem talking about breakfast before they disappeared into the tower, their voices fading away.

Millie kept her hand over John’s mouth for a few more beats, just to be safe, before finally letting it fall away and sighing. Leaning back against the tower once more, her breaths came heavy, her chest heaving. Still, she found resolve enough within herself to murmur, “Tell no one,” and with that pushed herself upright, skirting around the side of the building and heading into work. She would tell Freddie and Jem she’d been in the bathroom, she decided. There was no reason for them to suspect a thing.

*

If anyone asked Millie why she was taking so long getting ready tonight, she’d have no real excuse. They all went to the officers’ club often and, yes, they put effort into their appearances, setting their hair nicely and straightening their uniforms and freshening up their makeup after the workday, but no one went to this length. Millie had taken a shower and brushed her teeth and redone her hair and makeup entirely, had put on a fresh pair of tights and the pair of fancy earrings her parents had gotten her for Christmas which she hadn’t yet had the opportunity to wear. She repainted her nails and put on hand cream, plucked her eyebrows and shaved her upper lip.

If anyone asked, she would have to lie.

“Someone you’re trying to impress, Mils?” Jem asked when Millie finally emerged from the bathroom. It was only she and Freddie left in the bedroom of their hut, sitting on their respective beds with their shoes on and their eyes bored, as though they’d been ready and waiting for a while.

“Got all sweaty today,” Millie explained, trying to be casual about it. “Tried to keep my face away from the shower water but when I washed my hair it ruined my makeup so I had to start again.”

“Are you wearing new earrings?” Freddie inquired curiously.

Millie felt herself blushing. She prayed she’d put on enough makeup to hide it. “Got them for Christmas,” she confirmed. “Mum wrote me in her last letter asking if I’d worn them yet and I lied and said yes, so I thought I should probably put them on.”

Freddie smiled, accepting this readily, innocent little flower as she was. “They’re pretty,” she offered. “They make your eyes strikingly green.”

Millie smiled back at her. “Thanks, Fred. And you’re gorgeous as always. You too, Jem.”

“A compliment from Millie Harlow?” Jem gasped in mock shock. “What’s the matter, Mils, you got an upset tummy? Are we all set to be smelling the contents of your stomach when we go to bed tonight?”

Freddie scoffed. “Jem, that is vile.”

Millie just rolled her eyes. “D’you want that drink I owe you tonight, Jem, or do you want me to conveniently forget that it’s my round?”

Jem clamped her mouth shut immediately. “I want that drink,” she said as she rose from her bed.

Millie smiled smugly. “Yes,” she said, “that’s what I thought.”

Millie didn’t speak during the walk to the officers’ club. Her mind was filled with thoughts of one man, of his stupid smirk and his stupid soft hair and his stupid saxophone, which he was no doubt set to spend half the night married to. She tried to imagine what he might say to her, how he might look at her, whether he might try to get her alone. Did she even want him to get her alone? Did she even want to talk to him?

All too suddenly, Jem was pushing into the club and holding the door for Freddie and Millie behind her, then leading them to the bar.

“I’ll have a pint, thanks, Mils,” Jem declared, draping herself over the only available space at the bar with a twinkle in her eye.

Millie rolled her eyes. “I know what you’ll have, you little ponce, because you have the same thing every night.”

“Lemonade, please, Mils,” Freddie added.

Millie scoffed. “No, Fred. Wine or nothing.”

“What is your problem with me and my lemonade?!” Freddie complained, pouting.

Millie simply laughed, leaning past Jem when Atley the barman approached to take their order.

They’d gotten to the club too late tonight to secure themselves a table, so, once they all had their drinks, the three of them found an empty patch of wall to lean against and surveyed the room and its occupants.

Millie kept her eyes carefully diverted from the band just in case Brady was looking at her. She didn’t want to seem eager.

“Your makeup looks nice tonight, Mils,” Freddie spoke into the brief quiet which had fallen. “Did you get a new lipstick?”

“Borrowed Jem’s,” Millie replied easily, taking a sip from her beer.

Beside her, Jem sputtered. “Disgusting.”

“We’re all friends here,” Millie dismissed her.

“It suits you,” Freddie said. “A paler shade of red, no?”

Millie smiled at her sidelong. “I think so. Thanks, Fred.”

Freddie hummed her acceptance of this thanks.

Millie couldn’t take it any longer. Her eyes sought Brady of their own accord, as though they were being pulled there by magnets, and she met his gaze instantly. She had no idea how long he’d been watching her but she liked to think it was a while.

As such, she refused to be the one to break eye contact. She raised her eyebrows at him, a subtle smirk tugging at her lips, before lifting her glass to her lips and taking a slow sip.

Even from all the way over here she could see the bob of his throat as he swallowed.

Her smile was sweet when she lowered her glass.

Brady looked away, turning back to his sheet music.

If Millie didn’t know better, she would have thought she could spy a pale blush in his cheeks.

Millie kept an eye on Brady the entire time the band was playing, trying to force herself to find his saxophone playing unattractive and failing miserably. She only half-listened to the conversation going on around her, mumbling yeses and nos when asked any questions, smiling and laughing when she thought it was appropriate. When some of the other airmen joined them briefly she greeted them warmly but couldn’t help the glances she shot over their shoulders at their fellow pilot where he was playing with the band.

No one noticed, she thought. That was, until she caught Benny DeMarco smirking.

“Something catch your eye, Mils?” he asked, keeping his voice quiet enough that no one else acknowledged their private conversation.

Millie was starkly conscious of the burning in her cheeks. “What?”

Benny shrugged but there was an amused smile playing at his lips. “You just seem awfully interested in the band tonight. ‘S all.”

“I’m not,” Millie replied hastily. “I just - Brady, he - he’s -”

“Staring?” Benny finished for her.

“Yes.” She tipped her chin up defiantly.

“That makes two of you,” Benny observed.

Millie took a long sip of her beer to buy herself time - so long, in fact, that she ended up finishing it. When her glass was empty and she had nothing else to distract herself with, she finally replied, “If you’re trying to imply something, Benny, why don’t you just come right out and say it?”

Infuriatingly, Benny laughed. “Something you want me to say, Mils?”

“Not sure what you mean.”

“Yeah,” Benny said easily. “Funny. Neither was he.”

To anyone else, the timing would have been coincidental. Well, to anyone except Benny. But, secretly, Millie knew exactly what she was doing when she declared she was getting another drink about halfway through the last of the band’s songs.

She was still waiting to order when she felt someone come up on her other side at the bar. “Harlow,” he said.

“Brady,” she replied without turning to look at him.

He laughed. “You spend the whole night staring at me from across the room but won’t even look at me when I’m right beside you?”

“How would you know what I’ve been doing all night,” Millie replied, “unless you’ve been staring back?”

He scoffed but left that line of debate alone.

“Not dancing with any of your thousands of suitors?” he ventured instead.

Millie smiled to herself, tracking Atley as he moved around the bar, preparing drinks for other patrons. “Jealous, are we?”

Brady scoffed lowly. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Still smiling, Millie shrugged. “It wouldn’t matter much to me.”

“I think it would.”

“Think what you like, Brady.”

“Do you wanna dance?” he asked suddenly.

Millie’s eyes shot to his. She blinked at him. “You mean, with you?”

“No,” Brady drawled, “with Meatball.” He rolled his eyes at her. “Yes, with me.”

Millie fought to keep her voice level. “Why would I want to dance with you?”

Brady didn’t take the bait. “I don’t know, Harlow,” he replied simply, staring at her hard, his gaze smouldering, “why would you want to dance with me?”

Swallowing hard, Millie searched his face for a sign he was making fun of her but she came up empty. For once, he looked entirely in earnest. And the longer she took to answer, the more he started to fidget. He was uncertain, she realised. Nervous, maybe.

He thought she was going to say no.

“One dance,” Millie decided, putting both of them out of their misery. “And if you step on my toes you’re dead.”

“Worry about yourself, Harlow,” Brady replied easily, offering his palm to her. “I’ve seen you dance, you’re no Rita Hayworth.”

“And yet, you still want to dance with me,” Millie teased, laying her hand in his. Instantly, he curled his fingers around hers.

“Charity work,” Brady said as he started to lead her to the dance floor.

Millie rolled her eyes.

The two of them had never danced together. The first time they’d even touched had been last night, and they’d been completely alone. With everyone around, in the midst of a sea of couples, it should have felt awkward, uncomfortable, clunky, trying to figure out how they fit together as dance partners. But it didn’t. They slotted together as naturally and as easily as puzzle pieces, the wrong ones forcibly attached for so long that the right ones clicked instantly.

The song was slow. For better or for worse, that gave them time to talk.

Millie could not, for the life of her, keep her eyes off his lips.

“What were you and Benny talking about?” Brady asked when they started to sway together.

Millie let out an amused huff of breath. “None of your business.”

“Did he ask you to dance?”

“No.” He was asking me about you.

“Something about you looks different.”

Better? “New lipstick.”

“Right.”

“I borrowed it from Jem.” Silly thing to say. Why would he care?

“It’s - uh -” He cleared his throat.

Millie’s eyes drew up his face until she could meet his gaze. “It’s what?”

“Nothing,” he decided.

Millie nodded. His gaze was intense. “So you hate it,” she said.

He shook his head. The hold he had on the small of her back tightened slightly. “I don’t hate it,” he assured her softly.

If they had been alone, the both of them knew they would have been kissing by now. How quickly they’d fallen into a routine. This time yesterday they’d only ever dreamed about it, and only late, late at night when it was impossible to hide anything from yourself. Now it was something of a habit, unavoidable when they were in each other’s presence.

It was all either of them could think about.

 “I, uh,” Brady began. He tilted his head down closer to hers, speaking so softly his voice felt like feathers. “I’m flying again tomorrow.”

Millie nodded, a slight, almost imperceptible movement of her head. “I know,” she replied. “I work here.”

“Right.” He smiled and breathed a laugh.

Millie smiled right back at him.

“Good luck,” she offered quietly. “On your mission.”

“Thanks.” He nodded. He was staring so deeply into her eyes she felt like she was under a microscope. “I might - uh - I might get you on the radio.”

Millie laughed softly at this. “Only if you’re unlucky.”

He didn’t laugh with her, only kept on gazing deep into her eyes. “Yeah,” he breathed after a moment, when the joke had already passed.

It was impossible not to kiss him when he was looking at her like this, so Millie looked away. She set her eyes over his shoulder at the group of friends she’d left behind, watched as Jem joked with Benny and Freddie played with Meatball, as Dougie leaned lazily against the wall and Hambone came ambling over.

Millie and John were quiet for the rest of the song. Neither of them noticed, but they curled into each other more and more as time wore on, like a pair of mourning doves.

When the song ended and the next was ready to start, they untangled themselves from each other. They gave each other a nod, all formality as they tried to think up something, anything, to say, and parted ways without saying a word. They had only agreed on one dance, after all.

*

“Harlow,” Brady said as he came up behind her. “Can we talk?”

Silently, Millie sighed. She didn’t turn to look at him. “About what?”

“I’ll tell you when we’re talking,” he said. “In private.”

Millie knew exactly what that meant. They’d done this enough times by now to establish a pattern.

“I’m not in the mood to talk in private with you right now, Brady,” she said quickly, coolly. Freddie was having nightmares again - she hadn’t had nightmares since she’d first transferred to Thorpe Abbotts - so Millie had been up half the night trying to soothe her back to sleep. And Jem wasn’t very well - she’d gone home for the weekend and come back with food poisoning. Not to mention the fact that all this sneaking around was starting to make Millie anxious. She and Freddie and Jem didn’t keep secrets from each other, it wasn’t how they operated. It had taken a lot of courage for Freddie to tell them about Daniel, to open herself up to reliving the trauma of losing her soulmate if just so that Millie and Jem could know her entirely and understand her entirely, too. It felt wrong, after that, to hide this from them - from Freddie especially. She’d never had a friend like Freddie. It wasn’t right that she comforted Freddie about nightmares about her lost love, listened to her recount the gory details of his death and how she’d found out while she assured her everything was going to be okay, all the while sneaking around behind her back with a pilot of her own.

It felt wrong. Dirty. Millie wasn’t sure how she’d even gotten herself into this situation in the first place.

Brady wasn’t so easily dismissed. “What’s wrong?” he asked, falling into step beside her. When she didn’t spare him a glance he hissed out a sigh between his teeth and took a gentle hold of her elbow, tugging her behind him into the alley between buildings. Just like that very first time. The way it had all begun.

“Is this going to keep happening between us?” Millie demanded before Brady could get a word out. “You ask me to talk, in private, we fight, we kiss, and then we pretend to hate each other again. Is this the way it’s always going to be?”

Brady looked bewildered, like she’d just thrown a bucket of ice water in his face. He blinked at her for a few moments, his mouth half-open as he processed her words, and then he clamped it closed and said, “I’m only following your lead, Mils. You don’t exactly go out of your way to give me the time of day when we’re with everyone else.”

Millie rolled her eyes and turned away from him, staring at the patch of sky visible between the edges of the two buildings. “I won’t let you make me into an idiot, John,” she told him firmly. “Men have messed me around before and I won’t let it happen again.”

“Then what do you want from me, Mils?” John demanded. He reached for her hands but she wouldn’t let him take them. “You’re so goddamn difficult to read,” he said. “One second I think you like me, the next I think you’re about to knock my head off my shoulders. One second you act like you wanna dance with me, the next you’re dancing with Benny.” He shook his head with a low scoff. “You want me to show up at your door with roses when you won’t even make it clear to me what you want?”

Millie ground her teeth together and crossed her arms over her chest. She couldn’t think, for a moment, how on earth she wanted to reply. She could be vulnerable or she could be venomous, could pour her heart out to him or make him out to be delusional. She didn’t know which was wiser.

“I hate roses,” she said after a beat. “They’re cliché. And prickly. Any man who gets me roses is a man who doesn’t really know me - or really like me, more to the point.”

John didn’t say anything.

Millie’s heart was pounding in her ears as she ventured, “A man who was really after my heart would know to buy lilies.”

John was quiet for a moment. And then: “Lilies?”

“Orange lilies,” Millie confirmed softly. “They’re my favourite.”

She wasn’t looking at him, but she felt the change in the air around him when his posture loosened and he started to smile. “Of course they are,” he said.

Finally, she turned back to him, but only to narrow her eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s so like you,” he said, grinning. “Red roses are everywhere. I can’t remember the last time I saw an orange lily.”

“Maybe you just weren’t looking,” Millie said.

John was still grinning, shaking his head and laughing under his breath. “Do you know how long it’d take a guy to find you orange lilies?”

“If he really liked me, he wouldn’t mind, would he?” Millie fired back, tilting her chin up defiantly. “One day I’ll meet a man who would welcome the challenge because he just wants to make me happy. Don’t concern yourself about it, I’ll find him.”

His smile became strained, hard. “I’m not concerned about it,” he informed her evenly.

“I know you’re not,” she replied. “You’re content to kiss me in dark alleyways like some sort of -”

“Why do you always insist on arguing?!” Brady demanded, cutting her off. “Just when we’re making progress! You shut me out at every available opportunity, send me mixed signals and then complain that I’m not dropping to the ground and shoving an engagement ring in your face!”

“I wouldn’t want you to shove an engagement ring in my face, Brady,” Millie hissed, stepping closer and lowering her voice. “Forget I ever even said anything. I’d be embarrassed if anyone found out I’ve been entertaining your little charade.” She was being spiteful and she knew it but she was embarrassed, so embarrassed, that he was calling her out on her vulnerability. She’d tried to hide it, tried to be casual, but he could see right through her - of course he could! He always did. And now he was making fun of her for wanting more from him than whatever casual arrangement they’d fallen into. It was clear to her now that she’d misread him, had taken for granted that good Catholic boys only ever behaved as such when in reality they only behaved that way with women they were serious about.

Brady’s smile was bitter and full of disbelief. “Mils, don’t do this.”

“Don’t do what?” she snapped. “You won, Brady. You made me into an idiot. Thanks a lot.”

“I didn’t make you into anything,” Brady disagreed. “All I’ve ever done is try to be nice to you -”

“Oh, is that what all this was? You were just being nice? Taking pity on me? God forbid you ever actually listen to a word I say, Brady, but for the last time, you are not the only man who has ever shown an interest in me, hard as that may be for you to believe! Your charity work is over. Congratulations, you passed with flying colours.”

“What the fuck are you even talking about?!” Brady demanded as she started to storm away from him. His footsteps were loud and echoing as he followed after her.

“Just leave me alone, Brady, for god’s sake,” Millie said over her shoulder. “Go back to ATA-Alice or literally anyone else, I don’t care. Just leave me alone.”

Brady slowed to a stop, watching in utter bewilderment as Millie turned the corner and stomped off elsewhere. He really and truly had no idea what had just happened. But did he ever, really, with her? She was as infuriating as she was fascinating. He couldn’t stay away from her if he tried, and he had no interest in trying.

*

There was a rose waiting for her on her desk on Monday morning. A single red rose, all by itself, and Millie wasn’t sure whether to smile or scowl.

“Idiot,” she muttered, and the smile won out.

“Looks like you’ve got a secret admirer, Mils,” Freddie remarked as she took a seat at her own desk. “Did they leave a note?”

“No,” Millie said, still staring down at the rose. Tentatively, she reached out and picked it up, bringing it to her nose to smell.

“Who’s buying you roses?” Jem asked as she took her seat on Millie’s other side.

Millie smiled to herself as she set the rose back down and sat down in her desk chair. “No idea.”

Work that day could not have dragged on any longer. Millie felt like she was being suffocated by the many, many hours which stretched out before her. But, eventually, all the ATA pilots and all of the outgoing planes returned - those which were ever going to return, that was - and she was dismissed.

The other girls went straight to dinner.

Millie knew where she’d find the mastermind behind the stupid rose.

“Save me a seat!” she called over her shoulder to Freddie, Jem, and the rest of the wireless ops. “I’ll only be a minute!” She’d deliberately spilt water on her blouse right before the end of the workday to give herself an excuse to head back to the nissen huts. She wasn’t sure whether she’d really only be a minute. She didn’t think so.

True to prediction, John Brady was dawdling in the grass outside her hut when she approached. He didn’t see her just yet, his hands in his pockets and his head tilted back as he squinted into the sunlight, but she stopped a few metres away so she could really look at him.

He had no business being as handsome as he was. All boyish smiles and innocent blue eyes, biting wit and soft, fluffy hair. How was she ever supposed to come up against him in any significant way when he looked the way he did, said the things he did, acted the way he did? She’d been powerless from the start.

“You,” she called as she finally set her legs back into motion, “are such an arse, John Brady! Even when you’re nice you’re an arse!”

John was grinning when he turned to her. He shrugged. “A little birdie told me you like roses.”

Millie rolled her eyes and gave him a gentle shove when she came to a stop before him. “Shut up,” she said.

She kissed him, then, and couldn’t have given any logical reason for why other than she wanted to. She really, really wanted to.

He certainly wasn’t hurrying to make any complaints.

They wrapped themselves up in each other immediately, instinctively, like this was where they belonged and every second they spent apart was a second the world was off kilter. Anyone might have walked by for any reason and yet neither of them paid the outside world any mind. All of their attention, focus, thoughts were solely on each other.

When they pulled apart they were breathless, so close their chests pressed together as they breathed.

John was smirking. Because of course he was.

“If I knew I was gonna get a kiss anyway,” he said, all cocky and pleased with himself, “I wouldn’t have run around the whole of East Anglia trying to find these.”

He stepped away and Millie reached for him. His smile was soft as he took hold of both of her hands and pressed gentle kisses to the backs of both of them. Then he disappeared behind the door of her hut and emerged a moment later, still smiling, with a bouquet of orange lilies in one hand.

Millie’s smile ached in her cheeks. “You didn’t,” she said.

John shrugged. “I like to think I have my moments.”

“Where did you find them?” she demanded, accepting them from him and cradling them to her chest like a puppy.

John was grinning as he watched her. “Some East Anglian town. I couldn’t pronounce the name even if I remembered it.” He breathed a laugh. “But I thought they might make you happy, so they were worth the trip.” You were worth the trip. Worth an entire weekend pass spent looking for one bouquet of flowers.

Millie was still smiling wildly as she stepped back towards him, still cradling her flowers close to her chest. “Did they take you long to find?”

“A little.” He shrugged. “I didn’t mind.”

Her smile turned sheepish. “I feel like I need to make a confession.”

John’s heart dropped. “Oh.” She had a boyfriend. Or she had a husband. Or she didn’t even like him in that way. Or the flowers were fakes. Or -

“I actually love roses.”

His jaw fell open.

Millie was grinning. “Oops?”

“Millie Harlow,” John said, fastening his hands on her hips and tugging her to him, shaking his head with a wide smile on his lips, “you are such a pain in my ass.”

“Oh yeah?” she asked. She transferred her bouquet into one hand so she could wrap her arms around him, then smiled as she pushed up onto her tiptoes and nudged their noses together. “The feeling’s mutual.”

[ju1cyfru1t]

Labyrinth (Rise! Donnie x Human! Reader)

Drabble :D

big juicy (me) still gotta feed her kids while she’s busy.

angst

this is was rushed and it’s not thoroughly proof read I just felt like posting :)

It only feels this raw right now

Lost in the labyrinth of my mind

Break up, break free, break through, break down

You would break your back to make me break a smile

You know how much I hate that everybody just expects me to bounce back

Just like that

Uh oh, I'm falling in love

Oh no, I'm falling in love again

Oh, I'm falling in love

I thought the plane was going down

How'd you turn it right around

.

As everyone knows, Donatello is very much a passionate man of science. His advanced technologies! From robotics, engineering, biotechnologies. Almost anything you could ever wonder about, Donnie had all the answers and understandings.

…Except you.

No, it wasn’t you he couldn’t understand. It was what you did to him. What you made him feel.

How could a human be so understanding of…that whole situation? I mean, April always understood and Donnie understood he loved her like she was his own sister, but this was definitely different. Much different.

Donnie absolutely hated it. He hated the way you listened, really genuinely listened to him for hours about his passion projects, even if he knew you had no idea what he was talking about. He hated the way you were just happy to be there with him, and that it also made him happy. He hated how you would bend over backwards just to make him feel better. He hated how you knew exactly how to make him smile or laugh. He hated the way you could tell which smiles he was faking. He hated how you didn’t expect him to have all the answers all the time. He hated the way you really cared for his family. He hated how understanding you were, even if Donnie knew he was being unreasonable. He hated how you laughed at his snide comments when no one else did. He hated how comfortable, how cared for, how respected, how heard, how seen YOU made him feel.

He really hated that he didn’t hate you. He couldn’t, no matter how much he prayed for all of these confusing feelings to evade him completely so everything could go back to normal, or at least to just understand what this could possibly be.

These feelings were strong, and painful…but it felt good. So it couldn’t possibly be hatred, he knew what that felt like.

Donnie loved you. But not how he loved his stupid brothers or April or his dad. Donnie was in love with you. He was in love with you more than he could express. More than he could handle. He HATED it, and shuddered at the mere realization. He was supposed to be the sensible one, but you made all of the melt away and he couldn’t stand that. How could one little human make him feel so weak? He wasn’t used to just not knowing.

He hated that he couldn’t have you. You were just too different, and he knew that. He knew better than to let himself try to dream something that could never be his reality. He knew he shouldn’t even be thinking about you this late at night, but you haunted him even in his wildest dreams.

He hated how he would have to just watch you. Someday someone would fall this way for you all over again just like Donnie, and he would have to just sit back and watch you. Who wouldn’t? He hated the way he only wanted you to look at him.

A newfound pain stung through his chest as he visualized it. The person who could understand him better than anyone, but not with a mutant like him. It just wouldn’t work. It couldn’t, and it shouldn’t. No matter how much he yearned, or pined, or longed. He refused to live in false hope that you could ever love someone like him.

He hated how he knew if you were here to see him like this right now you would tell him that everything would be alright. He hated how badly he wanted that.

He hated how all he wanted was you.

………………………………………………………………………………

TYSM for reading! Hope you liked it :D

Please please please feel free to give any feedback or thoughts or just general comments! Trying to improve my writing. :)

Currently still working on the Y/N’s guide series + requests

[sukioyakio]

‘ɪᴅɪᴏᴛ’

paring: Gojo x femreader

an: this one is a short one,but I hope y’all like it.And pls forgive me for the grammar mistakes.This is just a thought I have. Wordcount: 879

You have never thought that you’ll will end up with him.The one that you despise when you first started jujitsu kaisen,you hated how carefree he was,you hated the way he smiled so much,you hated how he didn’t care about anyone opinion,you hated those godly beautiful sky blue eyes,you hated how he was touchy,you hated that he would put himself on the line for others,and you hated that he hadn’t changed that much even after all these years,making jokes,laughing around,Being a menace to the higher up.

But now it seems that the hatred you felt towards him only grew into something you didn’t think you had for him.You actually fell in love with him.And then one mission is all it took for him to confess to you,and for you to be the biggest embarrassment and saying yes.

Now your Gojo Satoru girlfriend,and also a teacher who takes and loves your job seriously.If your students were to describe you and his relationship together it was rather chaotic but funny to watch you guys,since your the complete opposite of him. Your uptight,serious,quiet,sarcastic at times,never smiles at all,But calm and gentle with others;has a honest heart,never makes your students go into danger/dangerous situations alone.Is never carefree with stuff and your students know that yet love how calm you are. While Gojo is the total opposite of that he is friendly,unserious about stuff,Talk-ive,make a few sarcastic comments about his students,Smiles a lot,is very active,but cares for his students,Has a unfliter attitude,And a good heart.Has a great sense of humor. He does put his students in dangerous situations to watch them (yea sure).He carefree about his job and doesn’t care.

You heard one of your students say,’I guess opposite really do attract’ and it made your heart warm at the fact.

And the difference between you two is a lot.But Hey you both love each other in your way.And So today was a day you both had a day off. So what you both did was just Sit down on your boyfriend large couch and watch movie together for a while.

You boyfriend being his clingy self is laying down his head on your laps as he wrapped around his arms your thighs like a baby,which it doesn’t bother you anymore but it would in the early stages.

you silently shift your seat.Your hand were already on his white angle like locks,smoothing his locks, scratching his scalp softly and gently. Your eyes watching whatever movie Gojo had pick on,you thought he was asleep until whatever actor that was on made a little joke cause him to snicker at that.

You aren’t the one to tell him affections words towards Gojo,your the type that show actions are more powerful than words.

But as of lately,your haven’t been on top of it since you been called constantly by the higher up to go on multiple missions.

The silence wrap around you like a warm blanket yet hanging suspension.

“You know..-“You spoke quietly and as you see him turn his head back to see your face.Your expression holding on a serious look.

You breathe in and out before continuing your words.

-I'll always. .. love you, right?" You say with content and passion,your voice coming a bit low then you originally expected. Gojo was now leaning up from your laps,with a huge smile on his soft pinks lips. Now sitting down next to you,with his face closed up to you,your cheeks began to roll in a red blush as you try to keep it together. Even all this time your still shy and quiet as you hear Gojo laugh rambling out of his mouth as he hugs you deeply making you unbalanced on your position causing you to fall onto the couch with his body weight trapping you in his embrace.

"I don't blame you. I'm pretty spectacular." He says with his ironic cocky voice,As he intoxicated blue eyes stare into your eyes,with that handsome smirk on his lips.He was really god favorite.

It took you a minute before you realize what he said,making you grumble. “urgh,I was seriously about what I said Gojo” You said with a moody pout. As you roll your eyes from remembering his cocky voice.

“I meant what I said Baby,You have a spectacular guy right in front of you;Loving the sight he looking at,the way you are so gently yet so commanding in a good type of way,the way you worry about me when I do mission is adorable,I love that when your flustered you start to hide your red face from me.” He spoke in a dreamy voice lanced with seriousness,As his eyes stares down slightly at your lips then at your eyes.

You gulped down,as your face felt warm and hot.You were gonna cover your face with your hand but he stop you from doing that as he leaned against your forehead and whisper with a soft chuckle.

“did I say I love you,because I do” he says with a smile as you lips slightly turn up from his own smile.As he kiss you passionately as you let him lead the way.

Your face is red completely,but you whisper against his lips. “idiot”

And he smirk off before smashing his lips against your and making you completely forgot about the movie.

This was not pro-read by me,but pls check out on ‘Use me then’

I hope y’all have a wonderful day and weekend.

[fatherforgivethem]

The Cat and The Jealous Boy

Prompt: Aegon, ever the kind boyfriend, bought Helaena a cat. However, he didn’t expect to become so jealous of the cat. Jealousy turns to hatred for both the cat and Aegon. They are enemies, and nothing more

————To the amazing @i-am-traveling-the-multifandom thank you for thinking of me lol! This was super fun and I’m sorry it wasn’t longer! I hope you like this little fic thingy!💓————

…

…

…

It had been something that he did to make her smile. And now, all he wanted to do was open the door, let the cat walk outside, and lock the door shut. His life would be easier. Though only for a moment, because in minutes Helaena would be in tears and he would be in severe trouble.

She didn’t yell often. But Aegon knew, that if he got rid of the cat, she would probably scream at him until his ears bled. She was passionate like that. Especially when it came to the things she loved. Aegon just wished the thing she loved most was him and not that ball of fur that left hair all over his clothes.

Aegon suspected that the stupid cat, who Helaena called Fiona, was purposely getting her hair all over his clothes. He could feel her yellow eyes on him whenever he had to use the roller on his clothes.

And if anyone would bother to listen to him, he would swear on his life that the cat hat grinned at him one morning as he cleaned his jacket.

The cat was a monster, far from the gift he intended her to be. But Helaena loved the ugly thing, and there was nothing he could do about it. Expect for hiss at the thing when she hissed at him.

And now, perched on the kitchen counter, where food was made, the cat looked into his soul as he ate his breakfast. He glared right back at her. She was the cause for all of his headaches. And the cause for his jealousy. Though he would rather fight to the death than admit that little fact.

All the cat had done since she walked into their lives was steal the love of Aegon’s life away from him. She took up all of Helaena attention. Day and night it seemed that the cat was far more important than him. He was jealous of a monster, that was covered in fur, and that ate wild animals and fish food.

Though he supposed there were worse things to be he jealous of.

“Stop looking at her like that.” Helaena voice called out as she entered the kitchen. Aegon chewed at his food, “I’m just looking at her.”

“Yes, looking and making mean faces.”

“Same thing.”

“Not really.”

Aegon watched as Fiona walked towards Helaena and was scooped up into her arms. The cat purred for a moment, but hissed at Aegon when he walked towards the sink. He was able to hiss back before Helaena swatted the back of his head.

“I wish you two would get along.” Helaena said with a pout. Aegon grunted and leaned back on the counter, “And I wish she wasn’t so mean.”

“She would be nicer if you were.” Helaena pointed out.

Aegon grunted again.

“Stop grunting, Aeg.”

Helaena placed the cat back on the counter, “How about you two spend some time together today. Get to know each other better.”

“She’s a cat.”

“And?”

Aegon sighed when he looked at Helaena’s face. The one with the big eyes looking into his soul and a pout resting on her beautiful lips.

He rubbed his hands over his eyes and pushed off of the counter, “Fine. But I’m not petting her.”

Helaena gave a delightful squeal and kissed Aegon quickly before running up the stairs, “I’ll go find a movie to watch!” She shouted with a giggle.

Aegon looked over at the cat, who looked right back at him.

“I should never have bought you.” He said.

Fiona gave a hiss and scurried off after Helaena.

Maybe he should open a window and hope the cat would wonder out of it. If shutting the window when she left was purposeful, then people could mind their own damn business.

…

…

…

[seigephoenix]

Welcome to DADWC!! How about “Knowing someone else can hear” from the smut prompts for anyone you’d like?

Happy Friday!! For @dadrunkwriting I chose Briar Amell and Cullen for this one. It also got away from me a lot. XD I simply can't seem to write smut without feeling or some buildup.

Content Warning: dirty talk, face sitting, p in v, fingering, old feelings come up again Length: ~2.6k words

The first thing she saw upon entering Skyhold was a familiar head of curly hair.  Her lips dropped open in a perfect O as she spotted him, older than the last time they’d met.  She couldn’t help but note how well he carried himself but was he still a Templar?  She remembered seeing him get so flustered when she flirted with him.  He’d turn such a brilliant shade of red and stumble over himself with excuses.  Then that one passionate night where he’d caught her reading all alone after midnight.  Words were exchanged as were deep, drugging kisses that led to fumbling around in the dark to prevent anyone else from overhearing them.

Briar had left the Circle not long after that.  She’d been heartbroken to see the hatred in his eyes when she’d returned and saved them from Uldren.  The ice in his eyes had cut her like a physical injury when he’d turned away from her.  She hoped he’d gotten somewhat less bitter towards mages in the last ten years.  Especially if she was going to help this Inquisition.  She’d even gotten a letter from Alistair and Zevran about the organization.  Morrigan had written that she was advising them, and Leliana was always in contact with her.

“Briar?” She paused at the familiar voice.  Leliana seemed stunned to see her standing in front of her.  “I didn’t think my letter reached you!  It’s so good to see you again!” She rushed forward and embraced Briar, pulling her tight.  Briar laughed and returned the hug just as fiercely.

“I wasn’t sure if my response would get here before I did, so I chose to come instead.”  Leliana agreed it would be a toss up given how correspondence went these days.  “Is Morrigan here?”

“Oh yes!  She’s in the garden.  Come, let’s go see her.”  Briar followed along behind Leliana, ignoring the eyes boring a hole in her back.  She’d find him later.

In the Gardens

“By the stars, it truly is you.” Morrigan whispered as the two women approached.  “It is good to see you old friend.”

“Likewise Morrigan.  I’m happy to see you’ve remained safe in these troubled times.” Morrigan nodded and motioned for Kieran to come out.  “Oh my!  You’ve grown up so much!  The last time I saw you, you were just a wee baby.”  Kieran bowed and greeted Briar.  “He looks so much like you Morrigan.  Thank the Maker for that right?” Morrigan choked on her laugh at Briar’s quip.  They knew Alistair was likely sneezing at that point in time as well.

“Let’s get you settled in a room Briar.  I’m sure you’ll be meeting a lot of people soon.”

“I can’t begin to fathom why anyone would want to meet me.  I’m no one special,” Briar said with a twinkle in her eyes as Leliana sent her a warning glare.  Briar simply tucked her hands behind her head and followed Leliana to the guest quarters.  Once she saw her room she set her travel bag down and then went to explore Skyhold.

Battlements

“I thought I recognized you.” Briar turned at his voice and grinned broadly at him.  “You’re still making waves.”

“Ten years later I still remain a thorn in the side of the Chantry.” Briar grinned as he joined her side watching the courtyard.

“Thankfully they’ve more pressing matters to deal with than the woman who threatened to shake their entire existence.”  Briar laughed at the cutting remark.

“I didn’t have quite that much influence.  Though, I will say, whoever said the Wardens don’t involve themselves with politics needs to be shot.”  Briar propped her hands on her hips as she looked up at him.  “What’s this really about Commander?”

“You’re never going to let me live this down, are you?” Briar grinned and shook her head.  “I didn’t think so.”  Cullen paused as he felt the weight of his next words on his tongue.  “I’m sorry.”

“For?” Briar asked as he hesitated.  Cullen was stunned.

“For my words to you back at the Circle.”  She turned her head back towards the courtyard, and he studied her profile.  Briar Amell was always beautiful, he’d long thought that.  Since the first day he’d met her when they’d both been new to the Circle.  Her face held a serene beauty that reminded Cullen of the moon at times.

“Oh.  I was hurt but I couldn’t find it in my heart to really resent you for them.  Not after what you’d been through.”  His eyes widened at the quiet words.  “Do you still think that about me?”  They both left the words he spoke to her years ago hang between them.  Maleficarum.

“No.  I didn’t really think that in my heart either.  I lashed out due to fear.”  Briar nodded; she understood that feeling too well.  She dug her fingers in her upper arms as she fought the longing in her heart.  He’d often been on her mind the past ten years, but she hadn’t been able to spare any time to reach out.  Not after the Circle incident.  Briar dared glance up at him and saw he was looking at her.  Heat flushed her cheeks, and she turned her attention back to the courtyard.

“I’m.  I’m glad you didn’t think that about me.  I’d never turn to blood magic myself.”  Briar tensed for a fraction of a second when he stepped closer to her, she suppressed the shudder.  Just being next to him was excoriating, her body craved his touch even after ten years.  They were both vastly different people than they were in the Circle.  No more an apprentice and a recruit sneaking away for secret rendezvous.  There was much more at stake in their lives now.  His fingers brushed the back of her hand and Briar swore she felt the touch in the very core of her.  Her heart was beating so hard she was worried it would come out of her chest.  Yet anticipation tingled along her nerves, the air was heavy with the tension between them.

They jolted at the raucous from the tavern shattered the tension.  Briar wanted to laugh at how she was acting, like that first time she flirted with Cullen.  She glanced down and saw Hawke stepping out of the tavern, holding the Inquisitor in a vise-like grip as she yelled something at the open door.  She heard Cullen groan next to her and couldn’t stop her laugh.

“I take it that is the Lady Trevelyan I’ve heard so much about?” Cullen looked at her in surprise.

“How did?”

“Turns out Hawke and I are distant cousins.  Our mothers were cousins back in Kirkwall.” Cullen was surprised but then he thought about it.  There wasn’t much of a surprise there.  “He wrote to me when he discovered the connection years ago.  I’ve visited him while he was on the run in Ferelden.”

“That’s where Hawke was?”  Briar simply shrugged as if to say her lips were sealed and he heaved an exasperated sigh.  Things were never boring in Skyhold since Hawke joined Alissa Trevelyan’s side, which was for sure.  “I’m sorry.” Briar burst out laughing at his deadpan delivery.  Her hand grasped onto his forearm as she doubled over in amusement.

“Don’t be sorry for me.” She straightened and wiped the tears from her eyes as she wound down.  “Be sorry for Thedas.”  Cullen was about to respond when he truly thought about it.  The Hero of Ferelden and Champion of Kirkwall were family, no matter how distantly connected, and the Inquisitor was related by marriage.  Cullen chuckled to himself at the thought of that tangle of political connections.  The silence followed held weight between them.

Briar looked up at his face and decided to throw everything to the wind.  Why should she resist when there was so much tension between them?  So long as he agreed, there was no harm.  “Cullen.”  He turned to face her fully and she paused at the heat burst low in her belly.  He’d always been taller than her, but he was so much broader now.  Her mouth went dry at how much bigger he was than she was.  “You feel it too, don’t you?”  His eyes widened and she saw the same hunger in his eyes that she knew was in hers.  “Want to throw caution to the wind and be stupid again?”

Briar let out a startled sound when his arms came around her waist and pulled her against him.  His lips settled against her pulse point in a move that had her fingers digging into his shoulders.  His name came out as a moan.  His hands slid down her body, squeezing her ass through the soft armor before lifting her up by her thighs.  She wrapped her arms around his neck as this put them eye to eye.

“Are you certain?”  Briar nodded and leaned in to cover his lips with hers.  Her hands cupped his cheeks as her teeth tugged at his bottom lip.  His fingers tightened on her thighs, and she wanted to moan.

“Cullen, I’ve waited ten years to feel your hands on me again.”  The admission startled them both, but Briar realized she meant it.  There had felt like something was missing, maybe not something vital to her survival as she did that just fine in the past ten years, but something she ached for was missing.  She realized it was him and everything that came with him.  She squealed when he turned towards his office and room.

Briar giggled as the scouts were ordered to leave, she buried her face in his shoulder to quell the amusement, but she’d never forget their expressions of shock.  “We’ll have to climb up the ladder to my bed.”

“Aww, no fun on the desk?”  Briar teased and sucked in a breath when he backed her against it.  He leaned down and brushed his lips across her ear.

“I’d never be able to do any work without thinking about fucking you on this.”  Her knees went weak and she grabbed his forearms to steady herself.  “And I’ve waited too long to see you in my bed to fuck you here.”  His teeth nibbled the shell of her ear and the soft sound she let out had his hands tensing on her hips.  He stepped back and swept his arm towards the ladder and Briar thought he had more confidence in her legs than she did at the moment.

Briar cleared the ladder and her fingers tugged and pulled until her armor pooled at her feet.  She glanced down at her body and grimaced.  She had more scars than she did at the Circle.  Ten years of fighting darkspawn would do that to you.  Briar jumped slightly when his hands slid around her pulling her back against him, and she noticed he wasn’t wearing any clothing either.  His lips trailed over her ear down to her neck.  She moaned when his teeth pressed down on her pulse point and his fingers dipped between her legs to find her wet and aching for him.

“Maker’s breath but you are beautiful.”  The words had her body clenching around his fingers and her hands reached up for him.  She arched her hips against his hand and Cullen pressed his palm against her aching clit.  His fingers toyed with her as more cries fell from her lips.  “People can hear us you know.”

“Haha, as if that’s stopped us before.”  Cullen groaned as he remembered that night they’d done it beside the First Enchanter’s office.  He hadn’t been able to look the man in the face for a solid week after that.

“Minx,” he whispered against her shoulder as he curled his fingers in her body.  He wanted to taste her, to possess her.  He needed her like he needed his next breath.  Cullen eased his way back towards the bed, taking Briar with him.  He wanted to smile when he moved his hand to her hip and the quiet curse as he left her wanting.

“You’re being a tease.” Briar huffed as she turned to face him.  Cullen merely gave her a warm smile before he sat down on the bed and grasped her fingers.  He tugged her until her stomach was flush with his lips.  Her fingers dove into his hair when his teeth nibbled along her skin.

“As much as I want to feel you around my fingers, I’d rather have you on my tongue.”  Heat pulsed between her legs as the image his words brought up.  She was startled when he leaned back and took her with him.  Her knees pressed on both sides of his waist and her palm splayed across his chest.  Briar didn’t have a chance to protest before he easily lifted her and settled her over his face.

Briar hesitated for a second and yelped when his hands wrapped around her thighs and pulled her right against his mouth.  Her fingers dug into his scalp as his tongue pressed right against her clit.  His name spilled from her lips as the heat coiled tight in her belly.  One hand covered her mouth as she heard the door open downstairs.  Cullen paused for only a second before his attention returned to her.

“Have you seen Cullen?”  Briar recognized the voice of Alissa Trevelyan downstairs.  “I have a report for him.”

“Looks like he finally took a night off.”  Cullen dipped his tongue inside of her hot core as he heard Hawke downstairs.

“Well, he deserves one.  I’ll leave this for him then.”  Briar covered her mouth and tightened her fingers in Cullen’s hair as her orgasm broke.  She couldn’t stop the moans completely and she just prayed the two downstairs didn’t come to investigate.  The waves rolled over her languidly, helped along by his tongue and lips.

“Let’s go.  I don’t like leaving Zephyr for too long.”  Briar’s eyes rolled up in her head as the stars practically exploded behind her eyelids.  She heard the door close and dropped her hand to dig her fingers into the bed by Cullen’s head.

“Fuck, fuck.”  Briar hissed out as he shifted until she was on her stomach.  His weight pressed her down into the bed and she wanted to beg.  His cock touched the inside of her thigh and Briar was this close to losing it.  She arched her hips against him, hinting at him to take the hint.  Cullen’s teeth latched onto her shoulder as he slid his cock inside her welcoming heat.  “Maker’s breath.”  Briar whined as he rolled his hips slowly against hers.  Her nails bit into the sheets by her head as she bucked her hips against him.

“Now, now.  Patience is a virtue Briar,” Cullen whispered in her ear as he continued that torturous pace to her growing frustration.  She’d appreciate slow later but her body wanted him to make her forget her own fucking name.

“Of which I don’t possess.”  She reached up and grasped his hair in her hands as she gently tugged on it.  “Fuck me.”  That dark chuckle was all she heard before he angled his hips and had her body clenching tight around him.  He groaned as he slammed against her hips.  “Yes.”  He rose up and pressed a hand between her shoulder blades.  She groaned as she couldn’t move beneath his hand.  She felt herself tightening around his cock with each thrust.

“Damn it.  I’m.” Cullen groaned as she felt his cock spasming inside of her.  Briar almost screamed when his hand reached underneath and gently pinched her clit.  She buried her face in the sheets as she came apart underneath him.

They were both panting heavily as the fog of desire cleared in their heads.  Cullen jerked upright as if just realizing what he’d been doing.  Briar grabbed his shoulder before he could say anything.  She shifted until she was out from under him and pulled him down towards her.  “We’ll talk tomorrow.  I don’t think I can string more than a few words together right now.”  Cullen relaxed and pulled her against him resting his head on the top of her head.  They could talk tomorrow.

[yuseirra]

I'm really sorry I can't shut up about this subject, I'm probably repeating this same idea over and over like some broken machine,

It's just that... My brain keeps acting on its own, it races and my hands can't keep up with the thoughts sometimes,

Well, I'm really passionate ;v;)/ and this won't return once I lose it, I still feel it could be a fun read for many! Because I like reading my thoughts-

Here's what I jotted again today!

Oshi no Ko

It feels somewhat refreshing now that the underlying story is starting to make sense.

This manga needs to address these aspects explicitly, whether through additional content in the volumes or something else.

The reason I ended up picking this manga back up in the latter half was...

Because I became convinced that Ai’s boyfriend could never have intended to harm her. He just didn’t seem like the kind of person who would do that. It's such a peculiar reason, isn’t it? But that had me so intrigued. I just had this feeling, like... “Huh? What’s going on here?” That’s how I got back into it.

The moment I saw the lyrics for the second season’s opening, I knew it. There’s something about this person... This person desperately wants to do something for Ai. The emotional tone—it’s just not the kind you’d see in someone who harmed their partner. And the way he reacts? That’s not it either. I had this instinctive feeling about it.

And as it turns out, as the story progresses, this aspect becomes even more opaque. In the end, the protagonist kills this person for reasons unrelated to Ai’s revenge.

There were so many opportunities to have developed him into someone who had gone after his girlfriend. Someone that'd have harmed her out of spite. That's pretty much what I thought the story would go when I first picked up this work. I wasn't really against that idea itself... I was sort of going to accept that as a thing, the matter was how it came to be and how he'd be punished for such a misdeed.

However, I’m convinced that he wasn’t guilty of that particular act. He never intended to harm Ai. There’s absolutely no hint of anything to suggest he did. His reactions don’t align with someone who’d do such a thing, the writers don't write things to back it up, in fact, he's written in a way that contradicts it. Which is why I kept following the series weekly, thinking, “No, this doesn’t add up. It just doesn’t.” And that chaotic whirlwind—I watched it all.

Honestly, you have no idea how tense I was, how much my heart raced as I drew fan art. I was so convinced the more I looked: “This person didn’t do it. He didn’t. He genuinely loved Ai so much.” I got so confused but that's really what I picked up. But then again, it’s up to the author how they decide to twist things. If it turned out he was just some petty guy who got angry at being dumped and lashed out at Ai and her child, who she was raising on her own—I was ready to scrap all my interpretations and artwork and accept it. That’s how I approached this series.

This manga drives you nuts... It touches on such sensitive themes, but I can’t help feeling there are points where it’s handled too carelessly. It keeps pushing the limits of what I can tolerate—back and forth.

Looking at it, Kamiki seems to hold Ai more precious than himself. It’s a consistent attitude of his, so much so that he prioritizes her life over his own. This must’ve been the case even before they broke up, back when they were young. His state of mind is exactly that of Fatal or Mephisto: not hatred or resentment, but longing, sorrow, and despair.

I was baffled by why a character with such accusations against him would display these emotions, so I delved into the story. And honestly, there’s actually no evidence to suggest he harbored any kind of twisted affection toward Ai. On the contrary, everything points to them having been genuinely happy together. My conclusion is that he loved Ai sincerely and purely.

Then why did things turn out this way? Why did Aqua still feel the need to kill him, even if it was for another reason? (Yeah.. Because he supposedly killed a lot of people... Haha. This is so messed up lol) And how on earth did Kamiki end up becoming involved in such bizarre, horrifying serial murders? Why? What logic? How could he do such things, and why would he even think of doing them?

He’s at least a major antagonist and, at most, the final boss. He’s the protagonist’s ultimate target—someone Aqua sacrifices everything to defeat. Yet everything about him remains ambiguous, and the resolution feels absurd, almost like a deus ex machina. The ending is shockingly flimsy and absurd, boiling down to, “They just talked, and then he drowned. The end.” (Oh, come on.)

There are faint hints scattered throughout about why things unfolded this way, but the story never fully explores them.

There’s one critical premise required to make sense of this progression. If that premise is confirmed, then all the bizarre developments and foreshadowing fall neatly into place. This must be the answer:

Kamiki Hikaru is, in truth, Sarutahiko Okami, the husband of Ame-no-Uzume, the goddess of entertainment, who has reincarnated as Ai. His name suggests he’s a god of light—not just any god of light, but a fallen one. (Because he needs to have fallen to give the protagonist a justification to defeat him, right? Haha, seriously.)

If this had been made clear, it would’ve explained the strange developments in the final act, resolved the loose ends, and provided at least some semblance of closure. But because the story refused to address this, we’re left without an explanation for why events unfolded the way they did.

The rest, the analogies to back this up, I'll put in the read more because this is getting long.

The strange events occurring around that character are not necessarily logical or causal; instead, they seem oddly supernatural in nature.

That’s because it’s the power of that god Sarutahiko. It works that way.

They kill this person, claiming he will "ruin Ruby’s future", right? How does that make sense? Well-

Originally, he is the "Michihiraki" god—a deity who leads everything toward goodness, righteousness, and the best possible outcomes. If he had not fallen and retained the white star, he probably would have continued to act that way. However, due to the darkness of the entertainment industry, he was hurt, broken, and corrupted, turning black and changing to the opposite. Even the events that occur around him—whether or not he intends them—are unclear.

Both Ai and this person are gods, and both are fatale, bringing misfortune to those around them.

However, it seems this person is the ultimate fatale. That's why Ai's song is IDOL and his is named Fatal. That is what they are!!!

What would have been the best outcome for Kamiki himself? He likely never wanted to part ways with Ai in the first place. If that’s already the case, he would have wanted to reunite with Ai and get back together. He might have wanted to congratulate her on her dome performance. He probably wished to live happily with her. However, if his power had already been corrupted at that time, it would have worked to lead him into the worst possible future, even for himself.

Looking back now, wasn’t him being separated from Ai the beginning of everything really falling apart for these two? While they were apart, they seemed to manage their own lives well enough. But in the brief moments Ai reconnected with Kamiki after that breakup, events spiraled in unpredictable, tragic directions—even for Kamiki.

Was Gorou’s death Kamiki’s fault? <I honestly don’t know about this. Did he commission it, thinking that without the children, Ai would return to him?;; ??? Probably not?? Since Kamiki claims he didn’t know, let’s set that aside for now (though, truthfully, I don’t understand this part at all;;).

As for the situation where Ryosuke killed Ai: Kamiki likely didn’t want Ai to die. He suffers from that consequence and it literally ate up his entire purpose of living. The context provided in Chapter 154 and the one provided in Chapter 160 differ. When I read the context in Chapter 154, it was so sloppy and strange. I mean, who sends a grown man to a woman they claim to love—and to her children? And sending flowers along with it too? Threatening her, yet sending flowers? Looking back, in that scene, there was also a bottle of alcohol in the flashback. In Japan, you have to be 20 years old to drink alcohol, right? So even Ai couldn’t drink before her death. That means Kamiki couldn’t drink at all, then; I drew something about this even before Chapter 160’s context was revealed. And about that ‘despair’ he's felt—whenever Kamiki feels despair, he doesn’t take bold actions. He freezes, stiffens, and cries instead. That's his behavior pattern.

I think Chapter 160 provides the most accurate context, for several reasons. When Kamiki received Ai’s call, he likely responded in one of two ways: either he grieved in a self-critical way (thinking, I can’t reconcile with her because I’m inadequate) or he felt pure joy (I’m just happy I get to see her again). Chapter 160 suggests the latter, and it fits his personality. Why didn’t he go to meet her in person? That part is frustrating, but not impossible to understand. He’s timid. Compared to the personality we see in the movie arc, he’s likely even gentler and more timid, incapable of taking bold actions.

From what I perceive, this person seems even more fragile and soft-hearted than the version Aqua portrayed in the movie arc! It’s because they genuinely seemed clueless. Overly naive, overly trusting, and incapable of doubting others—someone who took everything they were told at face value. This personality seemed to exist, at least in their youth. Even when they were being abused, they were tormented but still thought, “Is this right because everyone likes it?” On the other hand, Aqua's portrayal of the character was aware of the wrongness of the situation, showing displeasure in their expressions. However, in Kamiki’s actual flashback of similar circumstances, their expression looked somewhat blank, as though they didn’t even realize that what was happening to them was wrong. That’s how defenseless they were, to the point where they couldn’t even bring themselves to get angry.

When a person recognizes that what they’re enduring is unjust or horrific, they can resist. But Kamiki seems to have been subjected to such things from an early age, to the extent that they internalized everything as their own fault.

This explains why, regarding Ai, they couldn’t have had a strong reaction when they were rejected. They likely couldn’t even get angry about it. Based on their own words and the reactions they showed, it’s hard to believe this person is the perpetrator. The situation described in Chapter 160 aligns best with their personality. Up until that point, they seemed cheerful, easily swayed by others, and overly trusting. It feels like they only became more wary and aware after being completely burned by the Ryosuke incident.

Also, when you look at how they reacted to Ai, their expressions are far brighter and more genuine than what was portrayed in the movie arc. Their face shows pure happiness, as if they didn’t know how to contain the joy they felt.

No, there’s just no way this person could have intended any harm toward Ai. Absolutely none.

They didn't have to write him this way, yet they have... They keep things vague!!

Well, these ambiguous aspects are truly headache-inducing, but since this isn’t a character analysis post, let’s move on.

If we conclude that Chapter 160 is closer to the truth, then what would have been the best future for Kamiki? It would have been Ai safely receiving the flowers, being happy, the two reuniting, and Kamiki getting to meet his children. That would have been the best, righteous outcome.

But the exact opposite happens. And Kamiki himself feels despair to the point of wanting to die over the situation. His feelings of love, as described in Chapter 158, were referred to as desire, disappointment, and despair. I think it means something like this: he wanted to be with Ai, was disappointed when he couldn’t be, and despaired when Ai died. Alternatively, it could mean: he wanted to resurrect Ai and be with her again, was disappointed repeatedly when he failed, and despaired over her absence.

In the flashbacks to events around Ai’s death, Kamiki already had the black star. But does that alone mean he was already evil? I’m not sure. When he cried to Ai or in the flashback of their breakup, he had the black star, but Ai seemed very concerned about him and appeared to care for him deeply, even wanting to live with him forever.

If that’s the case, the black star itself might not signify wickedness but rather a change in nature—a fall, perhaps. And if that state persists, it might lead to a damaged soul or something like that.

As for the events happening around Kamiki, they seem... beyond his control.

Whether he intends them or not, the conclusion remains the same: he is a god. For example, when he suggested Nino to turn herself in but she ended up acting out attempting to stab Ruby instead—that was bizarre. Nino blames Kamiki, but what was absurd was the reason she brings up to blame him. She says he kept talking about Ai. That's it. It’s unlikely Kamiki said anything bad about Ai. If anything, he probably spoke fondly and expressed how much he missed her. What else would he have said to a fan or someone from Ai’s group? Yet, because of that, Ai ends up being killed? Ruby ends up being threatened? If that’s all Kamiki did, it suggests his ability isn’t merely about manipulating people cleverly—it’s about controlling the future itself. Things don't naturally turn out to be like this. The cause-effect is illogical and disproportionate. It's too disatrous of an outcome for something so trivial. If he intends for this to happen and it's played out exactly the way he wanted, then this guy is a god!!!

But in Ai’s case, it wasn't the desired result, right? He never wanted her to get killed, did he? And in the case of Airi’s family’s deaths, even more so. Could Kamiki have planned for Uehara to kill Airi and then himself? If Kamiki were the type of person with that much malice, he wouldn’t have been so helpless or despairing about Airi's exploitation of him. Things just don't add up for this person to be thought of as the ultimate evil mastermind of sorts, even if he may be now, he doesn't seem like he used to be one.

The discussion veered off-track, but to summarize:

Kamiki is a god meant to lead everything in a virtuous and righteous direction, but at some point, he transformed into a god who drives everything toward destruction and malice. As a result, he became an entity that must be eliminated.

Aqua's role is to remove him, while Ruby's role is to replace him. Ruby embodies both Ai and Kamiki's roles, as she is both Light (Kamiki—the light/sun god) and an Idol (Ai—the god of entertainment). It’s as if the twins born between Ai and Kamiki were each assigned these roles as their missions.

Meanwhile, Kamiki, having lost Ai, desperately wanted to regain her and thus went around gathering the “light of love.”

Regardless of his intentions, Kamiki’s very existence became a disaster. Keeping him alive would only bring misfortune to those around him. He became a fatal figure who draws out the destructive and malicious sides of people, leading them to ruin. This makes him a threat. However, it seems even he himself suffered because of this. Look at the ending—what he truly wanted was so far from what he achieved. He didn't want things to end the way it did.

The things Kamiki caused are not within the scope of what humans can logically perform.

There were plenty of foreshadowing hints that he is Sarutahiko the god. A shrine dedicated to the god he represents appeared, and the circumstances linking Ai and Kamiki closely resemble the marriage of the entertainment gods Ame-no-Uzume and Sarutahiko. Ai even remarked that Kamiki had lost his way, which is ironic since he’s supposed to be the god of guidance. He shows interest in others' wishes,(he grants them) is called a monster (he's the model for one), and is described as having a noble soul(that god does). Alongside his wife, he is also a god of entertainment. His role was to bless the industry originally. There’s even the water motif—his mythological counterpart dies by drowning. His name itself contains both “light” and “god.” He was concerned with finding and understanding what’s right as a child, likely because that knowledge was essential for properly guiding others.

The ending reflects the myth of his model deity, who dies by drowning. Ruby shining brightly in the end mirrors Ame-no-Uzume (Ai) drawing out Amaterasu (Ruby) while Kamiki, the former sun god (Sarutahiko), is replaced. This resolution ties directly to these mythological connections.

This should have been explained more explicitly in the story. Doing so would have clarified the narrative progression, the antagonist’s actions, and the true nature of the events. Without this context, readers are left constantly asking, “How should I interpret this story? What was it even about?”

Moreover, the things this character supposedly did don’t make logical sense, lack narrative consistency, and don’t align with his personality. Why did this happen? What was the necessity? It feels like there must have been a reason for writing his personality this way. They could have portrayed him as purely evil or even confirmed he killed Ai but they never do. So, it’s unsettling. It doesn’t feel right. The protagonist’s actions and the resolution don’t sit well with me. How could this even happen? Where is the realism? There’s no way to interpret this cleanly by only looking at the base source material.

This needs to be addressed. It’s not about whether the character is good or evil. Without this explanation, the story’s progression and resolution remain incomprehensible. Why did it unfold this way? Why does the ending feel so unresolved? Without these answers, I can’t help but feel dissatisfied.

Am I the only one who feels this way? Is this really resolved? It didn’t feel like a conclusion at all.

For a character who appeared so little, they carried an oddly significant weight in the story. If you don’t understand who they are, you’ll never fully grasp the work as a whole. But looking at it this way, nearly everything falls into place. If we’re questioning how much of it was intentional on his part, then…

When I view this through the lens of mythology, the god corresponding to Kamiki genuinely seems like a benevolent one. I think he went mad after losing his wife.

He went insane. He wouldn’t have stopped unless he died or brought his wife back. But malice… I don’t think it was present. Personally, I place great importance on intention, and that has always been the sticking point for me.

Ai treasured him so deeply, and if I can conclude that he was worth such devotion, I think I’d find some comfort in that. Yes… they must have been happy together. Truly. That’s how I see it.

Was he a malicious and wicked person? There aren’t as many supporting elements for that interpretation as you’d expect—surprisingly, none at all. If that’s the case, then this interpretation must be correct.

[revasserium]

Hewwo Rain! May I request "Close your eyes with Sasuke?" Ty bby!

reqs are open! :)

98. close your eyes

sasuke; 871 words; fluff and reflection u__u bc sasuke needs and deserves both those things

it has always been more difficult to see with eyes like his.

some people call it a blessing, but many more call it a curse — once, when he was still young enough to wonder, he’d wondered why sharingans always burn red. red like blood, like lust, like fire and rust and —

like that tainted moon had shone, huge and bright and unrelenting, on the night his brother shattered everything he’d ever known.

“hey… whatcha thinkin’ there?”

“hm?” sasuke looks up, his gaze falls on you.

you motion to his head with a knowing smile, the steam rising from both your ramen bowls. he looks down, and back up again, wondering if you really are wondering.

“i… nothing.”

“y’know… you’ve never been a good liar. even when we were kids.”

he stiffens, and then, he softens back into his seat with a helpless laugh, a thing that’s more breath than laughter, but still… you’ve been calling it a work in progress. his body relearning the meaning of joy, the weight and shape of laughter as it settles on his tongue. like a muscle that’s atrophied, you’d said, like a limb weak from disuse.

“you say that like it’s a bad thing.”

you smile at him, brilliantly.

“it’s not! it makes life much easier for me.”

he leans down to take a large slurp of ramen, letting the hot broth work it’s way down his throat, blossoming in buds of warmth down the center of his chest till it takes root in the base of his stomach. it sends tingles cascading through all his limbs, makes his toes curl in his sandals, the skin beneath his lashes catch in color as he feels the heat beneath his skin.

you are still watching him, and sometimes he wonders what you see, with those sharp eyes of yours. you’d always been good at watching, at seeing, at understanding what you saw. much better than he’d ever been.

“i was thinking… about why the sharingan is always red.”

you blink at his answer,

“oh…”

“i… used to wonder, as a kid.”

“what made you stop? wondering… that is.”

he looks back down at his bowl, at the slices of pork belly and revolving narutomaki’s.

he allows himself a smile.

“i figured… if that answer was meant to be mine, it’ll find me some day. all the things that i’ve ever really… needed… have found me eventually… no matter how hard i tried to run away.”

he feels the weight of your eyes shift from his face to the empty sleeve where his left arm should be and he shakes his head.

“ah… sorry. forget it.”

later that night, when you’re both back home and the lights are off, you turn to face him in bed, admiring how the moonlight sets an almost unearthly glow to his face, how it seeps into his skin like milk.

“sasuke?”

“hm?”

he opens his eyes; they spin like twin pools of blood in the dark.

you smile.

“i think… the sharingan is red because… that’s the color of love.”

he frowns, but he doesn’t interrupt you.

“because… love comes in so many forms — in lust, and greed, and passion… and hatred too. that’s a kind of love as well… you have to love someone enough to hate them. otherwise… you just wouldn’t care, right?”

sasuke shifts closer, his hair an inkstain on the pillows around you.

“i think… i like that.”

“good. because that’s what im choosing to believe.”

he grins, soft and steady, and then, he reaches our his hand to trail a finger along your cheek.

“see? the answer came to me, didn’t it?”

you crinkle your nose.

“yeah, because you asked at dinner!”

“i’ve been asking for a very long time… this is the first time the answer has come… and i’m glad it came from you.”

he presses his forehead to yours and you feel his lashes flutter against your cheek.

beneath the covers, you feel him reach for you, his grip still a bit too tight, almost as if he’s unsure of your existence, that he’s grounding your realness in his touch, and his touch alone. you reach down to lace your fingers with his, smiling as you meet his eyes, your noses nearly brushing.

“i’m not going anywhere… i promise.”

“and i’m not either… promise.”

you grin at his answer, reaching up your free hand to brush at his eyelids.

“good. then close your eyes… and let’s get some sleep, hm?”

he closes his eyes, and you watch as his body relaxes into the mattress. you wonder what he dreams of — if he spends his sleeping hours wandering the recesses of his memory, chasing down answers to questions he’d never been brave enough to ask out loud.

you wonder if he ever dreams of the future, of one that’s filled with more questions and answers, but also the promise that you’ll find them together.

and, from the way he pulls you closer, murmurs goodnight against your cheek, that he probably does.

[championleonsslut]

Lol I love your blog but I wanna ask soemthjng as a lurker so I can show my friend later lmfao. How about a trainer who DESPISES Leon with all her might and beats him out of spite but the hater to lover trope comes to mind?

Ooh well this is interesting! I’ll do my best as always, I hope you enjoy, anon!

“Fuck that guy in particular… Not literally.”

There he goes again. That arrogant, stupid, stuck-up champion. Winning another match like always! Someone needs to knock this guy off his throne.

He’s just so obnoxious! He’s always getting “lost”, which is probably more for publicity than anything.

Well, at least that’s what you thought.

You weren’t quite sure where your hatred for Champion Leon sprung up, but it was intense. You hated him with every fiber of your being, and would give anything to hit him with a chair.

Surprisingly… He had always been extremely friendly to you. He’s probably just like that with everyone. It’s probably all an act.

And what a bad actor he was, you could see right through it!

To clear off some steam after seeing that purple haired dumbass around again, you headed out to the Wild Area. Maybe you’ll do a Max Raid, or some fishing, or catch a wild Pokemon, or you’ll make a new batch of curry for your team.

You were just about to head into the forest, when a voice caught your attention.

“Uh… Excuse me?”

You turn around, only to find him, with a stupid smile on his face, and he gives a little wave.

“Hi there! I uh… I’m kinda lost-“

Of course you are.

“I was hoping you could maybe point me in the right direction to Motostoke?”

I’ll point you in the right direction to your death, how’s that sound?

But of course you didn’t say those things. You didn’t get a chance, not when he spoke up again.

“Oh wait! I know you! You’re one of the gym trainers at Raihan’s gym, aren’t you?”

How’s he know that?

He grinned from ear to ear, “I’ve seen you battle a few times. You’re a great trainer! Really! Would you… Be willing to battle me before I head off?”

Battling Leon? Well… If you beat him, the victory will sure feel good. Maybe you can even rub it in a little and watch his face drop.

So you agreed.

The battle was fierce, both teams fought violently but also passionately. In the end… You came out victorious!

Leon chuckled as he sent his final Pokemon away, “That was really great! Thanks!”

You nodded and sent your final Pokemon away. You were surprised when he walked closer to you.

Leon sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, “Hey… Would you wanna… Hang out some time? Maybe not to battle but if you want to…”

That was the last thing you wanted, but you didn’t wanna be rude to him. You may hate him, but he’s being so nice! Even if it is all an act…

So you nodded, “Sure. You know where to find me.”

And he sure did. He found you… Multiple times. He would come see you after matches, hang out with you in the Wild Area, you guys even ran into each other at the library once!

Slowly but surely, your hate for Leon diminished… and was replaced with the biggest crush of your life. He was so sweet and charming! So funny and handsome… He was perfect.

So when he asked you to battle again a few months after your first one, you rapidly agreed. Anything for Leon’s validation!

You won, again, and he came over to you with a chuckle.

“Great job as usual.” He smiled and held out his hand for a handshake.

You looked up at him, your fingers centimeters away from touching.

That was when you blurted out:

“Heydoyouwannagooutsometime?Ijustthinkyou’rereallyhotandsweet.It’sokayifyoudon’t!Iwasjustwondering…”

Leon blinked at you for a few seconds, while you slapped your hand over your mouth.

“I-I didn’t-“

Leon cut you off, “I’m glad you asked first, because I barely had the courage to!”

You could only stare at him as he gently took your hand in his.

“And that’s how I met your father.” You smiled down at the three children from your couch, as your husband sat next to you.

The three children blinked up at you, and the eldest spoke up.

“Tell it again!” He grinned.

“She just told you that one!” Leon chuckled, and kissed your cheek

[titikawai]

Why show Polin disappointed me :

Hi everyone, back on another long as rant. I just finished this season and felt betrayed so I decided to type !

I read the 4th book not really knowing what to expect as I boycotted season 1 (left traumatised from reading half of the first book) only watched season 2 (which I love so much) and didn’t like the Queen Charlotte season (sorry not sorry).

To be fair, when I started reading the book, I couldn’t care less for Polin as I did not like the way show Colin treated Penelope like a dog, only there to make him feel better about himself. I had hopes that Penelope would run away to find a better suiter after that terrible finale on season 2. I actually loved the way Eloise confronted her about being LW and the fact their friendship is challenged.

Even though I heard Colin was going to be an ass in this book I still gave it a go. I was surprised and ended up loving the book so much I bought it to put it on my shelf. I found out that, in the novel, Colin was way less of an ass and a much more sensitive character that sometimes did not understand his own feelings. I absolutely loved the plot involving his jealousy towards Penelope’s writing in comparison with his own. I understood his fear to become a nobody, to not find his purpose or something he would be « good at », known for. His need to prove himself to his family and others that he is more than a pretty face.

I also loved how fervently Penelope defended her work as an extension of herself, someone she wanted to be, had always been but was to scared to be in real life. I loved how the book explained how one would feel if they had never received loved and thought they were doomed to never get it so much so that they do not even try anymore.

Finally, I loved how pure their loved felt. In that regard how their relationship was more love than lust (even though there was still some heavy smut scenes). I loved how they did not just f*ck, but MADE love! I felt like their relationship wasn’t the « passionate » type which to me is a good thing because it means you love the person much more than you love their body that you worship because of the soul that inhabits hit. I felt like Polin was the perfect couple as they completed and accepted each other (apart from that scene where he grabs her by the arm and every mention of anger management like WTF stop giving main male characters toxic traits to try and make it seem hot to the audience, it is not). Also, I especially loved how Colin made it his priority to protect Penelope and especially her emotional state. He is often portrayed fearing for her reputation as he does not want her to isolate herself and go into a pattern of self hatred. He hates the way she speaks ill of herself and will not let anyone, that involves her mother, to disrespect her.

I now realised why I didn’t like show Polin as much as book Polin : it is because Show Colin has nothing in common with his book alter ego. In the show, Colin didn’t even realise how bad he hurt Penelope and managed to rekindle their friendship by telling her how SHE make HIM feel (here again taking the spotlight from her and drawing it to him) and not how much he cared about her well-being and self-image.

I absolutely hated how they turned Colin into just another rake turned right by the « ugly girl who had a makeover and that he now notices because of that particular reason and how fuckable you now look ». This storyline should have stayed in the 2000s ESPECIALLY with Polin. Indeed in the book Colin gets feelings for Penelope once he grew up and became more mature enabling him to love someone. While Penelope matured and started to loved herself and that helped her accept love from someone else and expect nothing less.

In the series, I hated how helpless Penelope felt. Firstly because she did not clap back to haters as she did in the book but also because Colin did not come to defend her once. He didn’t not care to stand up to Cressida or his friends / the gentlemen when they insulted Penelope. Wouldn’t you stand up for anyone if they were insulted and ran of crying!? ESPECIALLY if you are supposed to be in love with her. He did not care to embarrass her before a room full of people and her potential future husband while he could have just asked to see her in person (this element was added for drama but still gives huge red flags)

I hate how they turned Colin’s passion for travelling into a joke or a metaphor for sexual tourism. This only makes him appear more shallow (even though he came up with gifts for his family which I found cute). It makes it seem like him travelling is just an excuse to appear deep in society and this gives such fratboy vibes it almost made me ill. Where is the poet, the writer who paints landscapes in his mind and puts it on paper! He was turned into a smut writer!!!! How disappointing!

Why is it that he didn’t get to find out LW’s identity before he asks Penelope to marry him?!? What about their common love for writing? Him wanting to marry her anyway because her being LW makes him love her even more : because he loves her for her, their relationship and not because he had wet dreams of her. I wish they put in scenes where they had openhearted conversations about for instance : her feeling bad because of her spinster status, how she is scared no one will ever love her; his writing; his quest for purpose and put in none of that rake or Lord Debling/husband nonsense they created because they needed to fill a whole they dug!

Oh and WTF was that carriage scene music choice!?!?!???!!!!!!?? I cringed so hard. I liked the carriage scene overall even though I didn’t like the events that led to it

On what I loved…

I ugly cried when Portia was surprised her daughter ever believed someone would love her and refrained from holding her when she desperately needed a hug => if you are the child of a narcissistic mother, this hits so freaking deep

I loved Francesca’s storyline with the earl!!! It was genuinely sweet

I loved seeing Show Colin jealous

The modiste!!!! I love lady Delacroix so much and would have liked to see more of her friendship with Penelope. She could have helped her boost and confidence past the physical makeover level

I liked Cressida’s backstory and the comment on internalised misogyny

Wished there was more Penelope / lady Danbury moments

Loved Penelope’s sisters and her mom. I like how they portrait her toxic relationship with her daughters by focusing on her small remarks (it makes it much more realistic)

Kanthony

Wished Polin dance scene on Snow on the beach lasted longer to show their attraction without needing to make it too sexual (the eyes are the door to your soul)

Costumes, décors etc. As always

Weirdly enough, the first kiss scene

Thanks for coming to my TedTalk

[iraeyah]

A MAD SCIENTIST MET A PRETTY GIRL IN HIS LAB FOR EXPERIMENT. (This is chat ai, im just putting it here cuz it sounds yeahhhhhh In the dimly lit corners of his underground laboratory, Dottore was, as always, immersed in his work. The rhythmic beeps of his machines filled the silence, each one a note in the cold, mechanical symphony he had created for himself. Long tables were cluttered with flasks and strange, bubbling chemicals; complex blueprints of the human body were tacked to the walls, their illustrations torn and faded from years of his obsessive handling.

Dottore rarely strayed far from his lab. Here, he had control—a power that had been taken from him in his youth, only to be reclaimed now through his own twisted ambitions. He was feared, but that didn’t concern him. The world, he had long decided, deserved to see the monstrous side he’d been forced to become. He was the creator and the destroyer, a mad scientist shaping life and death to his whim. Anyone who entered his domain, whether by fate or force, was a tool for his research.

But today, he felt a strange tension in his hands as he lifted his latest “specimen” from her cell, dragging her into the sterile light of his lab. She was young, perhaps barely out of adolescence. She had been found alone, a mere orphan in a village that had resisted his experiments and was quickly destroyed for its rebellion. She had fought against his guards, her eyes blazing with anger as she’d struggled, clawing her way through their grips. But here, in his domain, her spirit was caged, and her body, as he saw it, was his to study.

Dottore’s eyes traveled over her, sharp and calculating, taking in the dark hair that cascaded over her shoulders, her face dirtied from the struggle yet beautiful in an otherworldly way. Her expression was fierce, a defiance that had yet to be broken by fear. She stared up at him with pure hatred, a fire he hadn’t seen in quite some time. Something about it intrigued him. He was accustomed to desperation and submission from his subjects, but here was a girl who looked at him as if she would tear him to shreds if given half a chance.

Juliah’s voice cut through the cold silence, low and venomous. “You… you destroyed my home. My people… everything.”

Dottore paused, momentarily startled by the intensity in her voice. He took a step closer, his expression cool, calculating. “Your people,” he said softly, tilting his head as he studied her. “A quaint little village, wasn’t it? Hardly anything remarkable.”

Her eyes flashed with fury, and she strained against the metal cuffs binding her wrists. “You had no right.”

He chuckled, a cold sound that echoed in the sterile room. “I decide what rights are in this world, girl. Do you know how many like you have passed through here? Angry, full of purpose—yet ultimately nothing but a means to an end. You will be no different.”

Juliah’s gaze didn’t waver, though her voice trembled. “Do you really believe that? That people are just tools for you to use?”

Dottore’s smile faded, his gaze sharpening. “You know nothing of my work. You can’t understand it. There is no room in science for sentiment.”

The words came out more bitterly than he intended, and he knew, deep down, that they stemmed from the shadowed part of his past. He had once been just like her: idealistic, passionate, hopeful. But the world had shown him the truth. He had been falsely accused, chased from his home by people who had wanted nothing to do with him, blamed for the death of a classmate he had barely known. The memory of those days—the desperation, the hatred in their eyes—was still fresh in his mind, fueling the bitterness that now defined his life.

Juliah watched him carefully, her expression softening slightly, as though she saw something in him that he had tried to bury. “You’ve lost something, haven’t you?” she asked quietly, her tone no longer accusatory. “Something important.”

Dottore’s jaw tightened, and he turned away, trying to ignore the strange stirring in his chest. “It’s irrelevant. You’re here now, and that’s all that matters. I suggest you accept your situation.”

But Juliah was relentless, her voice steady and insistent. “You don’t have to do this. You could stop all of this madness, end the pain you’ve caused… if only you wanted to.”

“Stop?” he echoed, his voice harsh, brittle. “I was cast out, accused, blamed for something I didn’t do. They made me into this. Why should I stop when all I’m doing is returning the favor?”

She didn’t flinch, her gaze never leaving his. “Because if you keep going down this path, you’ll destroy yourself too.”

Her words struck him harder than he’d expected, chipping away at the carefully constructed walls he had built around himself. For the first time in years, he felt something stir within him—a hint of remorse, a glimpse of the person he once was.

But he forced the feeling down, refusing to let it surface. “Sentiment has no place here,” he said coldly, turning away from her, trying to regain his composure.

She watched him with a sad, knowing look, a look that unnerved him more than any defiance she’d shown. Her beauty, he realized, went beyond the surface; it was a quiet strength, a resilience that couldn’t be broken by fear or pain. It was something he couldn’t quite understand, something he found both fascinating and deeply unsettling.

Days passed, and he found himself returning to her cell more often than he intended. He told himself it was to monitor her reactions, to observe her resilience. But each time, he was met with the same defiant stare, the same unyielding strength, and he found himself drawn to her in a way he couldn’t explain. He would speak to her, questioning her, challenging her beliefs, and she would answer with the same fierce conviction that had first captivated him.

One evening, as he approached her cell, he found her seated on the floor, her arms wrapped around her knees, staring into the darkness. She didn’t look up when he entered, but he could feel the tension in her body, the way she braced herself for his presence.

“Why do you keep coming here?” she asked softly, her voice carrying a weariness that tugged at something in him.

He hesitated, his answer caught in his throat. He didn’t know. He couldn’t understand it himself. All he knew was that, in her presence, he felt a strange sense of familiarity, a reminder of who he had once been. She was a reflection of the ideals he had abandoned, the dreams he had once held dear.

“You intrigue me,” he admitted, his voice low. “You’re different.”

She looked up at him, her gaze filled with a quiet strength that both unsettled and entranced him. “Maybe because I still believe in something better.”

He scoffed, though the sound was hollow. “Belief is a weakness. It leads only to disappointment.”

“Maybe for you,” she replied, her tone gentle but unwavering. “But for me… belief is all I have left.”

Something in her words cut through him, stirring memories he had long buried. He remembered the days when he, too, had believed in something better, in a future where he could make a difference. But those dreams had been shattered, replaced by bitterness and anger, and he had built his life on that darkness.

But as he looked at her now, he felt a strange urge to protect her, to shield her from the pain he had endured. It was a feeling he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in years, and it terrified him.

“You’re a fool,” he whispered, his voice trembling with a mix of anger and something else—something he couldn’t name. “Belief will get you killed.”

“Then so be it,” she replied, her voice steady. “I’d rather die holding on to something good than live surrounded by hate.”

Her words lingered in the air, challenging everything he had built his life upon. He wanted to dismiss them, to cast her aside as he had done with so many before. But he couldn’t. Something about her had reached him, had broken through the walls he had constructed around his heart.

Days turned into weeks, and he found himself returning to her cell more frequently, engaging her in conversations that left him questioning everything he had once believed. She challenged him, defied him, but in doing so, she awakened something within him that he had thought long dead.

One night, as he stood outside her cell, he looked at her, his gaze filled with a mixture of anger and regret. “I could let you go,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. “I could end this. But what would that mean for me?”

She met his gaze, her eyes filled with a quiet strength. “It would mean you’re still human.”

The words struck him like a blade, piercing through the darkness that had consumed him for so long. He looked at her, his heart torn between the man he had become and the person he had once been. For the first time in years, he felt a glimmer of hope, a faint whisper of redemption.

Without another word, he unlocked the door to her cell, the metal clanging as it swung open. She looked at him in surprise, her eyes wide, but she didn’t move, her gaze fixed on him, waiting.

“Go,” he whispered, his voice filled with a mix of sorrow and resignation. “Leave this place. Forget all of this.”

She took a hesitant step forward, her gaze never leaving his. “And what about you?”

He looked away, his jaw

[horseface-at-hogwarts]

Rebel Rebel

————————————

Summary: Soulmate AU in which Draco enjoys playing calm piano scores, while his soulmate is more into brackish rock.

“Rebel Rebel,” by David Bowie.

warnings: anxiety issues and adhd if u squint

—————————

Draco frustratedly banged his fist on the old piano keys. He managed to get to the fifth measure before he was rudely interrupted by the clicking of drumsticks and the obnoxious ring of an electric guitar. He closed his eyes and sighed, deciding to give up on playing altogether. The wooden bench creaked as he stood up and kicked it backwards, sliding his music folder into his bag and leaving the Room with a huff.

The Room of Requirement had become somewhat of a haven for him, somewhere he could be left alone. It was, until recently, the quietest place in the castle. Unfortunately his soulmate didn’t seem to care about peace and quiet, or Draco’s sanity. He’d made it down a corridor and a half before the lyrics started.

You've got your mother in a whirl

She's not sure if you're a boy or a girl

Hey babe, your hair's alright

Hey babe, let's go out tonight

Draco rolled his eyes. Did it always have to be this song? Maybe if his soulmate bothered to play a different album every now and then, his hatred for the music wouldn’t be as passionate.

He looked out at the transfiguration courtyard as he passed. There was a couple leaning against the stone walls, laughing and touching and probably having a conversation about how great it was to know your soulmate. He rolled his eyes again, his gaze moving to a group of friends playing exploding snap. Then another group, who were watching one of their peers dance around and jokingly toss his hair.

He almost smiled, until he realized it was Potter. Then he rolled his eyes a third time. But he kept watching (as he always did). Harry kicked around, his two best friends laughing at his antics and shaking their heads. Draco stopped dead in his tracks, however, when he realized Potter’s air guitar had lined up almost perfectly with the music in his head. He averted his eyes and hurried through the hall. There was no way. Simply a coincidence, nothing more.

—————————

Harry laughed, a bit breathless as he sat back down next to Ron. He turned off the song “Rebel Rebel” and leaned against a tree that was shading them from the spring sun.

“Harry, you’ve really got to pick a new song. Imagine what your soulmate would think!” Hermione scolded, but she smirked at him.

“Enough about soulmates, Mione. Let the man breathe,” Ron defended, earning a grin from Harry.

“Yeah mione,” Harry mocked. “If they’re really my soulmate, they won’t mind the songs I like.”

Hermione hummed dismissively and went back to whatever classwork was in her lap. She had mentioned it casually, but her words got him thinking. What would his soulmate think? His head was usually filled with graceful piano and soft humming. It was nothing like his own mixtapes. Harry didn’t mind the sounds of his soulmate, though, he actually quite liked the pianist. The keys seemed to calm down his thoughts and memories, rather than drown them out like his favorite rock bands did. Harry had never even known how to be calm, really. It was something his soulmate had taught him. He pushed the thoughts aside and chose to worry about it later.

The trio stayed put until their free period was over and it was time for potions. Harry hated potions. It was full of Snape, and Slytherins. Specifically one slytherin.

Malfoy had always been a nuisance to Harry, but this year, it had gotten worse. He was just so distracting. His embarrassingly good grades. His impossibly clear skin. That sickeningly blonde hair that was always so perfectly kept, just like the rest of him. Not that he cared how well kept Malfoy was. He was just annoyed that he had nothing to hold against him. Just annoyed, nothing more.

—————————

Draco sighed as he sat down in the potions room. Thankfully, his soulmate quieted down for the rest of his free period. He listened to snapes monotone instruction and began to brew a calming drought, as the professor had asked.

Unfortunately, Draco had quite a bit of experience with calming droughts, given the way his anxiety had increased this year. He guessed it had always been around, but 5th year really showed him the length of it. Piano helped , most of the time. That was one of the reasons he had been playing so much lately.

He chopped and minced and simmered until the potion bubbled that familiar purple color. He stirred it, not focusing too much, and began humming to himself. It was the song he was trying to play earlier, it was stuck in his head. Draco had almost finished the piece by the time his drought was ready to be poured, and only then did he look up from his cauldron.

His eyes quickly found Potter, like they somehow always did. Harry seemed to be lost in thought as well, a trance-like look on his face as he chopped his rosemary stems to the tempo of…

you’ve got to be kidding.

Draco abruptly stopped his song. He watched Potter pause. He looked away before his suspicions could be confirmed.

He carried his drought over to Snape’s desk, handing him the vile with a shaky hand. The professor took it, examining it closely and pouring a bit of it over a leaf. Draco stared at the ground as Snape graded his potion and gave it back just as keenly.

“100 percent. And… perhaps you should consider taking some of it yourself,” Snape told him, apparently noticing his demeanor.

Draco simply looked at him and walked away. He didn’t need to drink this stupid calming potion just because stupid Potter was making him think about something stupid. There was no way they were soulmates. They hated each other. Sure, they’d gotten less hostile over the years, and sure, he’d saved him from miserable failure in potions a few times, but that was it. The accidental eye contact didn’t count. Neither did brushing shoulders on the way to class. It was mere…coexisting. There was nothing even friendly about it. There was no way- no way, that he and Potter could ever-

“Oh, shit, sorry!” Harry stuttered as he ran into Draco.

He had dropped his potion and shattered the vile, spilling the purple liquid all over himself and Draco. The Slytherin wanted to snap, to call him a dunce and yell in his face. But when he looked up from the broken glass and saw the grin on Harry’s face, he froze.

That smile. that big, stupid smile that made Draco’s chest feel all warm. He hoped it looked like he was just surprised by the sudden hit. He simply watched, bewildered, as Potter snatched a rag off of Lavender Brown’s table, haphazardly wiping the front of his shirt and his pant leg.

Thank merlin for translucent white button ups. Wait, what?

No. Draco shook his head and snapped out of his trance, grabbing his wand to cast a cleaning charm and mend where the glass had cut his leg on the way down. At this, Harry dropped the rag and laughed again, realizing he could’ve just used magic as well.

“Thanks. You’ve always been the smart one, haven’t you?” He says, shaking his head and looking up.

“Uhm…” Draco was still at a loss for words. Draco was never at a loss for words. He swallowed thickly, knowing his face must be beet red by now.

“You alright?” Harry asked. Why was he still grinning so brightly?

“…Yes,” Draco muttered, so unusually embarrassed. And with that, he spun on his heel and walked back to his desk, wishing he never healed the cut and just let himself die of blood loss.

—————————

Harry was confused. He had just spilled his entire potion on top of Draco Malfoy, and he didn’t get one insult? Not even an exaggerated whisper of his last name? He stayed put for a moment watching Malfoy walk back to his desk. Harry smiled a bit, amused by the way Draco cleared his throat and glanced at Harry again as he packed up. He threw his parchment back into his bag, along with some…sheet music.

There was sheet music in Dracos bag.

He glanced back to Ron, who hadn’t even seen what just happened. He looked for Hermione next, who glanced between him and Draco, shrugged, and went back to her brew. He gave one last puzzled look before going back to his table to re-pour the drought.

///

Later that week, it finally came time for Harry to ‘worry about it later.’ He laid in bed, staring up at the garnet curtains around him, running a hand through his hair. Hermione had mentioned soulmates again today, and it still had Harry’s head spinning.

He couldn’t think of one person at Hogwarts who only listened to classical music. If you could even call it that. It was always a piano solo, and it had Harry wondering where you could even find tapes of piano scores.

Unless it wasn’t a tape. Were there pianos at Hogwarts? The only place he could think of was the choir room. Or maybe…the Room of Requirement? He should check there. The next time he heard the melody in his head, he’d go to the Room and see if someone had opened it. If they had, then he’d just go inside and find his soulmate. It seemed simple enough, and he wondered-

“Harry!” Rons voice interrupted his run-on thoughts. His head shot up and he saw the redhead holding the curtain open with an exasperated expression. “Bloody hell, it’s like you’re not even on this planet sometimes. I called you four times!”

“Sorry…” he murmured. Ron had been offering him some sweets and asking about a History of Magic assignment, as if Harry would know the answer. He laid back down once his friend had left and sighed once again, turning on his side. Whatever, he thought, soulmates didn’t even matter.

He pressed play.

Rebel rebel, you've torn your dress

Rebel rebel, your face is a mess

Rebel rebel, how could they know?

Hot tramp, I love you so!

————————

“Fucking hell,” Draco muttered. It had now been two weeks since the potions incident, and his soulmate (who was not Harry Potter) was still listening to that song. He’d heard it about three and a half times today, and it’d just now stopped. He sat down at the piano and tried not to think about the way Harry played air guitar, or the way his stares across the great hall had become much less inconspicuous, or the way his shirt had stuck to his tan skin.

He shook the thoughts and began to play. It was a natural thing for him. His long, slender fingers made it easy to reach the keys, and he had a sense of rhythm and steadiness that didn’t show up in his personality. He figured that was why he loved playing the piano. It was a strange feeling for Draco, to love something like it. There were no expectations, like he got from his parents. There was no pressure, like he got from his friends. There was no exhaustion, like he got from quidditch. It was relaxing, and easy, and completely in his control.

He played a soft melody, his hands floating over the black and white keys. He started to softly hum along, his body swaying slightly to the tempo. A few times he had expected that song, that…stupid song to start playing again, but it didn’t. It was the first time in weeks his playing hadn’t been disturbed. It was nice, to finally have a moment to himself. He smiled softly as he played the last note.

—————————

Harry tossed and turned, pressing a hand to his forehead and squeezing his eyes shut. The only thing he wanted right now was a good nights sleep, but apparently that was too much to ask for. Why did he always have to think so much? And why were his thoughts so loud? And why were there so many of them?

He was about to give up and go down to the common room, when he heard a soft familiar melody. He stilled, wanting to hear the quiet song. He listened for a few moments, rolling onto his side and settling into his pillows. The piano continued, and this time it was accompanied by that warm, rich humming. He felt his eyes getting heavy already. He closed them, listening to the music and smiling softly as it lulled him to sleep.

Harry woke up the next morning and…

The next morning?

Harry had slept. Through the whole night. Without any nightmares. He blinked a few times and sat up, grabbing his glasses. He felt more awake than usual. And he hadn’t relived any traumas during the night. So…that was nice.

He left his hair messy and got dressed, feeling a newfound appreciation for his soulmate. The piano melodies had really grown on him. He had even found the name of the song. It was called “Moonlight Sonata,” and it was by Beethoven. Hermione was surprised by his taste when Harry asked if she recognized it.

The song was…comforting. Harry was not usually comfortable. It was nice to have something that could settle him down, almost like the music was hugging him. It helped him focus in class sometimes, too. He wanted to find his soulmate now more than ever.

He made his way down to breakfast, once again planning to catch the pianist. He didn’t even think he knew anyone who could play, besides Malfoy, who used to brag about the lessons his father got-

Harry paused. He almost laughed. There was no way, right? Malfoy could never be capable of sounding so…sweet. His calm composure certainly wouldn’t match a pianist. And he certainly wouldn’t have remembered where the room of requirement was. And the sheet music he had seen in his bag was certainly not a piano score. And…It made perfect sense.

Shit.

Draco Malfoy was Harry Potter’s soulmate.

———————

Draco watched as Harry entered the great hall, and was thoroughly surprised when their eyes met. He was even more surprised when Harry started walking towards the Slytherin table. He pushed his plate away and stared intently at the dark haired boy, who dared to sit next to him.

“Malfoy.” Harry said.

“Potter.”

“Do you, uhm…Is- is there…”

Draco raised a brow. He hoped this question wasn’t about his soulmate. He was not ready to answer that.

“Can I see your bag?” Harry asked.

“…What?”

“Just…can I see it?” He held out a hand.

Draco paused for a moment. For some reason, he didn’t want to refuse. Maybe he just wanted Harry to sit next to him for longer. He hesitantly gave him the school bag.

Once the bag was in his hand, Harry looked at Draco for moment. Then, he opened the top and thumbed through various papers and books, finally stopping on…his music. He paused for a second and pulled it out of the bag, opening the folder to see pages upon pages of piano music. Accompaniments, solos, even some popular muggle songs. Harry ran a finger along one of the lines.

Draco couldn’t help but feel some kind of fear. This was embarrassing. How did he even know the music was there? He half expected Harry to laugh, or rip the pages up, or…something. But he didn’t. He studied the whole folder, as if he was looking for something specific. Draco sincerely doubted Harry could read sheet music, given he could barely read English, so he asked:

“What are you doing?” He’d meant for it to sound venomous, but it’s came out as little more than a whisper. Harry didn’t answer right away.

“Do you- Uhm, Moonlight Sonata?” He stuttered.

“What?”

“Do you…have Moonlight Sonata?” Harry asked more clearly. Draco was still confused, but he slowly nodded.

Harry met his eyes again.

Because Harry knew.

And Draco knew, too.

So he took the folder back, put it in his bag, and walked away.

———————

Harry didn’t go after him. He watched as Malfoy took a deep breath and grabbed his things, quickly leaving the great hall. He had gotten one more look at those icy blue eyes before he left Harry at the Slytherin table. He felt…hurt. He didn’t know why he was hurt, he hadn’t been expecting a heartfelt confession, after all.

But that didn’t mean he didn’t want one.

Harry stared at his hands where the music had been. The music that he’d heard countless times, over and over until it was all he thought about. He finally knew who was playing it. It’d been Draco the whole time.

The whole time.

Every quidditch match, every stolen glance, every route he changed to see him on the way to class. Every time he caught himself staring at Malfoy’s side profile, or watching his silver clad fingers write essays. It’d been him. It had always been Draco, hadn’t it?

Even now, as he sat at the wooden table and heard the soft music once again.

Harry was determined. He forced himself out of his thoughts and abruptly stood up, ignoring the nasty looks some other Slytherins gave him. He marched out of the great hall and went back up to the Gryffindor common room. He avoided conversation with the fat lady, and once he was back in his dorm, he immediately found what he was looking for.

He picked up the cassette tape and shoved it into his bag, already on his way out. He left the common room as quickly as he’d entered, and now he was on the way to the Room of Requirement. Harry had spent hours thinking about how he would approach his soulmate, and this was never part of his plan. But he was sure of it now. He rushed down the seemingly endless corridors, until he finally reached the Room. He stared at the door that formed against the stone wall, and suddenly got very nervous, but not any less stubborn. He went inside.

Draco sat at the white grand piano, leaning over the keys. His eyes followed his fingers as they moved across the board, his foot tapping to the slow rhythm. He bit the inside of his cheek and closed his eyes every now and then, not noticing Harry.

He took advantage of the moment, finally observing his soulmate. He stopped near the entrance for a few beats, staying silent. Draco looked so…engrossed. It was strange to see expressions other than blank stares or arrogant smirks. It looked like he was feeling the music, as if the sounds were ringing from him- not the piano.

He took a few more steps, not wanting to startle the boy. When Harry was finally close enough for him to spot, Draco stopped abruptly and looked back at where the door would’ve been. His eyes flicked back to Harry and then to the piano, frantically.

Harry sat down next to him.

Draco’s brow furrowed, but he didn’t move away. He watched as Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out a small cassette tape. He held it up, and Draco stared. He gave the gryffindor another once-over, waiting for him to say something, but he just moved the tape a little closer. Draco got the message and hesitantly reached up as well, taking it from him. He didn’t do anything for a few seconds. Harry nodded towards the tape and gestured for him to look closer.

Draco flipped the tape over and read the lettering across the white label in the middle.

‘REBEL REBEL - BOWIE’

The name was written messily in red ink, and there was a star drawn next to it that pulled the corner of his lip into a smile. He inspected the plastic box for a bit longer, realizing that this was Harry’s way of telling him. Showing him, rather. Showing Draco that he’d figured it out, too, and still came to see him. Draco had thought Harry would be angry, that he’d push him away and argue, but…he didn’t. He glanced back up to Harry.

The look they gave each other said so much, Draco didn’t think he needed to add anything. But he did.

“I hate this song.”

Harry laughed, which made Draco smile, which made Harry stop laughing and stare at him wondrously.

“I might start believing you’re my soulmate if you keep smiling like that,” he said.

Draco’s face got hot and he looked down at the tape, biting his lip. Harry paused for a moment.

“…You know…I didn’t like it all that much either, but my Aunt and Uncle hated it, so it became my favorite,” He continued.

Draco smiled again, but he didn’t look up from his lap as he spoke.

“Another act of defiance, then?” He said quietly. Harry softly chuckled and gave him another nod.

“Yeah…I guess so.” He tilted his head down a bit, trying to read the blonde’s expression. Draco noticed and glanced up at Harry, tapping the cassette against his leg. He swallowed, not sure what to say.

“I like your piano,” Harry tried again. “You play really nicely.”

Draco nodded in thanks and brushed one of his fingers against the keys. He didn’t say anything else.

“Draco.”

His head snapped up to Harry, who shook his head and gave him a questioning look. Draco knew what he was asking,

Of course. Why wasn’t he talking? Why wasn’t he doing anything? Why didn’t he care? He took a deep breath.

“I’m…sorry,” he whispered.

“Why?” Harry asked. His forehead crinkled up in that familiar determined expression. He wasn’t going to let up.

“I don’t…know what to say. I’m not used to this.”

“To what? Feelings?” Harry quipped.

“No- I- It’s…” he sighed. “You. I’m not used to you.”

“What’s the matter with me?” Harry asked, somewhat amused by Draco’s embarrassed response.

“You’re just- You just….make me nervous,” he murmured, still pushing some keys.

Harry smirked. He felt strangely proud that he’d managed to crack Draco Malfoy’s facade.

“Well, you’ll have to get over that,” he grinned, leaning closer to Draco. The Slytherin couldn’t help but smile as he looked the other way, avoiding his gaze.

“Hey, look at me,” Harry said, tilting his head a bit. Draco complied.

“You know…last night, when you played the piano?”

He nodded.

“I hadn’t gotten a full nights sleep in…a while.” Harry said, his tone a bit lighter now. “But…it was easy when you played to me.”

This got Draco’s attention, and he finally met the other boys eyes. His beautiful, big green eyes.

“And, I mean, you know me. I’m a clueless wreck in class. But I always focused better with the music,” he admits, smiling. Draco’s face had softened, and now he was the one feeling proud. But not like the prideful bravado he usually put out. this was mere…excitement that he had done something Harry enjoyed. He smiled back at the brunette.

“I’d watch you draw, sometimes, on your hands,” Draco says. “I wanted to tell you to pay attention.”

At this, Harry laughs again and holds out the hand closest to Draco, which has pen marks across his fingers and palms. It was a habit of his, whenever he got bored. Harry was just showing him the drawings, so he was surprised when Draco reached up to take his hand. He pulled it towards him and started to inspect the little doodles, a smile on his face.

“Can I ask you something?” Harry blurted after a few seconds. Draco looked at him and nodded.

“Why’d you keep running away?”

Draco’s brow furrowed a bit.

“I mean, you knew, didn’t you?”

He nodded again.

“Then…why didn’t you say anything?”

Draco swallowed and thought for a moment before he continued.

“Because…you’re Harry Potter, for fucks sake. I’m…supposed to hate you. We’re- we’re so different. and my father would have a stroke, and- and you make me look stupid, when I get all nervous and flustered and…”

He trailed off, seemingly very worried. Harry simply gave him a downturned smile and laced their fingers together. Draco stared down at their hands and he couldn’t help but smirk.

“Well…opposites attract, right?” Harry offered playfully. Draco chuckled.

“I guess so.”

“They must, if I make you so nervous and flustered,” Harry says, leaning so close that Draco had to pull his face back.

“Oh, shove off.” He rolled his eyes, but his smile only got wider. Harry decided, then, that there wasn’t anything he liked more than making Draco smile.

“I don’t think I will,” Harry declared, grinning at the other boy. He hadn’t moved away from Draco, glancing down at his lips. He was so close that he could kiss him, if he wanted to. And he did. He really, really wanted to kiss Draco.

Draco noticed. He blinked a few times, his expression softening and his breath becoming shallow.

Harry smiled a bit and tilted his head. He lifted his gaze from Draco’s lips and just looked at him, silently asking for permission. When he didn’t pull away, Harry leaned in closer.

Draco wondered why he hadn’t kissed Harry Potter until now. Their lips touched in the most gentle way, as if they were both holding back. There was a moment of hesitation before Draco let go of the other boy’s hand, wrapping his arms around Harry’s neck. He took this as a cue to pull Draco closer, smiling against his lips. They separated for a moment, taking a breath and smiling at each other. Draco moved his hands to the sides of Harry’s face and cupped his jaw. Harry smiled, the silver of his rings feeling cold against his skin. He gently caressed Draco’s side and looked into his bright blue eyes. Their faces got closer until their foreheads touched and their noses bumped, making them both smile wider.

“…I don’t know what I’m gonna tell Ron,” Harry laughs, pressing another short kiss to Draco’s lips. Draco smiled a bit, too.

“Will they…do you think they’ll be mad?” He whispers, searching Harry’s eyes.

“I don’t care,” Harry says. “Mione’s always wanted me to find my soulmate. I reckon she’ll be happy. Besides, it’s not really their business, is it?” He grins.

“No…” Draco smiles. “But…they don’t like me very much, do they?”

Harry shrugs, moving back to kiss Draco’s forehead and pull him into a hug. “They’ll come around. Just let them get to know you…they’ll see.”

Draco nods with a pleased smile on his face. They sat there for a few moments, appreciating the closeness they’d been wanting for so long. It was a tender moment, which wasn’t usual for either of them. Harry decided he could definitely get used to it.

“My father is going to have a stroke, you know.”

————————

HUZZAH THANK YOU FOR READING POOKIES 🥰🥰🥰

[majoringinsarcasm]

https://www.tumblr.com/majoringinsarcasm/752029441556922368/rwby-will-always-be-a-passion-project-that-grew

Think what strikes me about your point is that it REALLY highlights the intense hypocrisy and two-faced behavior, especially when it comes to the subject of indie media and the way social media reacts to it.

For all of their disdain for "corporate media" and the "sanitization of media", supposedly "pro indie" people don't hesitate to act any differently towards media that doesn't conform to their expectations. They outwardly praise unique stories and ideas, but if you step out of line in some arcane or unclearly defined fashion that only exists in their minds, you can literally go from hero to hated in pretty much the flip of a switch.

It truly makes me wonder what categories RWBY falls into to get to this intersection. Because there’s now subsets of the hatred and dislike ranging from Ruby is a static protagonist (which she isn’t completely but also that’s not a bad thing in story telling), ANY kind of queer rep and how it’s Pandering but also Done Wrong at the same time. It’s a female led cast who are fully realize people with different personalities and hopes and hobbies and thoughts.

It changes. We leave the safety of school and venture into the outside world and it’s not so simple anymore. It’s hard. Being a teenager who is tasked to save the world is not easy. But the idea that rwby and co mess up or their plans fail is seen as plot armor and not Story Conflict will always make me laugh. Like wow their big elaborate plan at the end of volume six resulted in problems? That’s so crazy it’s almost like every show ever has done that.

It started off with short episodes and a colorful cast that was fun but at the time didn’t have a lot of explored depth. Some people probably just wanted Month to animate fight scenes for 12 seasons. But that’s not what they got and as the crwby have said over the years that wasn’t even the intention of the show.

One dimensional tropes and aspects folding out into fleshed out characters was the GOAL of the show and the beauty of the story they were holding together. People are upset that this flashy nothing burger concept turned into a whole ass narrative with lore and world building and didn’t just stay in a go fund me campaign I style limbo of cool art with nothing else behind it.

And it sucks because now SO MANY PEOPLE will loudly talk about how it was overhyped or rushed or bland or ruined. So many videos on YouTube are how the main cast is bad or the true villains or how characters lost their potential and I wanna scream WATCH THE SHOW. Don’t look at it under the guise of “it could have been this”. Watch what the actual show is saying listen to what it’s telling us.

I love this show a lot and disliking it doesn’t make you An Enemy. Acting like a shitty know it all while bashing the real human creators and claiming you can tell a better story while not being under the same budget and work limitations makes you kind of a loser though

[marvelavengers74]

A promise

Summary: After years of being the Shadow Soldier the Avengers promised you that you never have to harm anyone ever again. But what if the promise turns into a lie?

Pairing: Steve x Reader, Sam x Reader, Bucky x Reader (all platonic)

Warnings: Violence, self-harted, it is an angst fic, so pls be aware! Also English is my second language and you will find mistakes for sure.

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

You will never have to hurt anyone again, I promise.

A promise that was broken as fast as it was made.

Red. A Color that on the bright side was associated with love and passion. But the world isn’t innocent , that would be a naive thought. No, this time the Color red meant something else. It meant danger.

She was unable to move from this position, still holding the blade in her hand. The once shining Metall was dripping with blood. She still saw their pleading expressions, heard their whimers and prayers for life, she really wanted to leave, but she couldn’t move from the scene that was laid out infront of her.

Her eyes ran over the lifeless bodies infront of her, hoping that their chests would move, but they didn’t.

How did it get so far?

Suddenly being aware of the icing handle of the blade she hisses and let it fall into the red sea to her feet.

Distant shouts were heard but she couldn’t make out the words, to lost in her mind that was clouded by the dark shadows of her past and her possible future.

She killed them. Every. Single. One. Not remembering how or why. Maybe she was in shock not able to function how she is supossed to. Holding her hands infront of her she watches as the blood drips down her hands.

The shouts were heard once again, the tone of the voices hold utter panic. She heard their steps, the cracking of broken glass that was on the floor. She knew exactly who stepped into the room. They were bold and naive to come close, not knowing how dangerous she was. Wait that’s not true, they know and that is the problem.

You will never have to hurt anyone again, I promise.

Loose words. That’s nothing new for her but why does it hurt so bad?

“Y/N” The sound of her name sounded foreign to her. The voice held a tone that shouldn’t be meant for her, it sounded like concern and pity. It was wrong she doesn’t deserve to be pitied, she doesn’t deserve consolation she deserves to be met with hatred and disgust.

“Y/N?” There it was again. That name that leaves a bitter taste in her mouth. “What happened, Y/N?”

They left her alone with herself. Didn’t they know how dangerous she is? Or did they forgot?

“The Mission was a maneuver to break into the compound at a time where everyone was away besides you.” Steve said concerned “we tried to be here as soon as we realized”

She sensed that someone tried to come closer and her breath quickened. Sam abruptly stoped in his step afraid to scare her. “It’s just me, Sammy. Can I come closer?”

She huffed out a bitter, humourless laugh. “ Shouldn’t I be asking you that question?” Sam raised an eyebrow at that, his eyes shifting between Steve and Bucky in a quizzical look. But he soon found the answer to his unspoken question as soon as he realized that she wasn’t afraid of them coming closer,no. She was scared of herself and what she was able to do.

“What happened in here?” Steve asked cautiously. He was fidgeting with his hands a habit of his that indicates that he is nervous, or is he scared?

She looked him in the eyes for the first time since they found her in this massacre. “I did the only thing I am good for. I killed.” She held her bloody hands out to them as if it would prove her point. “ isn’t this what I’m meant for? Destruction?”

Steve furrowed his brows and a silence settled over them. They were witnesses of her cruel side, the side that should be looked away in a box. But seems like no box in the world could fit the monster inside of her that she is destined to be.

Her brutality, her cruelty with her victims wasn’t possible to describe. The mountain of the corpses was too high. She killed them with no mercy all that was left were mutilated corpses. Her worst nightmare became reality, she turned into a killer again. But didn’t they promise her that they would do everything so that this doesn’t happen?

You will never have to hurt anyone again, I promise.

“You weren’t destined for this life Y/N. You are looking for the guilty in the wrong place. All you did was to safe yourself” Bucky tried to reassure her and held out his hand. “ trust me when I say that you had no other choice. I know what you feel” he took a step towards her but halted his movement after she signaled him to stop.

She pinched her nose and accidentally inhaled the smell of the blood on her hands. Suddenly feeling exhausted and sick to her stomach, the smell a forever reminder to her past and her present. Looking around the room she catches her reflection in the window, the sun long gone. She didn’t recognises her reflection, all she was seeing was a numb shell of what she once was.

“You didn’t keep your promise” she glanced at the three people that she considered her best friends. “You said I would never have to do this again” Y/N dangerously whispered.

“We did” Sam nodded “and we failed you, but don’t let this destroy the progress you made Y/N. The Shadow Soldier is long gone they aren’t a part of you anymore.” he slowly exhaled. Y/N could see how tense they are, they were scared to lose her.

“Don’t you see what I did to them? Are you that blind to see that the Shadow Soldier is a part of me? I killed them brutally!” her hands shook as she shouted at them “HYDRA was right Sam. I blamed HYDRA for my actions, said that I had no choice but that’s not true. It was me who killed innocent people in the past.”

Her eyes filled with tears that she didn’t allow to fall. “And what about all the nights and days where you told me it wasn’t my fault, were these lies too? We are on the same boat Y/N and I believed you, as you said HYDRA was the problem and not me. Don’t let me question you!” Bucky stated and looked her deep in the eyes.

She furrowed her eyebrows “you know I meant it but this is different Buck. You are so much better than I could ever be”

Steve took a step closer, grabed her hand and circled with his thumb over her skin “you protected yourself Y/N and you did it the only way you know. You have no idea how strong you are and that hurts us”

She turned away from them and looked again at the blood. It was her, alone against the demons of her mind. Fighting to see the light of hope and the sense of normality again, but her demons didn’t give her a chance and so the light slowly vanished. Maybe she was meant to be unhappy?

Steve grabed her other hand “Don’t close up Y/N, tell us what you feel. Say anything that comes to your mind.”

She scoffed “How should I know how to talk about my emotions if I never was allowed to have any?” her hands freeing herself of his grip “I need time to progress what I did and that is damn hard with all this corpses lying here”

Bucky rubbed his eyes “You are running away from your emotions. It’s ok to be mad, sad or frightened that HYDRA found you. That they wanted to have you forever this time, please know that. As Sam said the Shadow soldier is dead as is the Winter Soldier. When I killed the first time after my recovery I freaked out but I had people that helped me. Let us be these people.” He gestured to sam, Steve and himself.

Y/N hesitated “I turned this into a massacre. I wasn’t ready for them to take me again, I did so much bad as the Shadow Soldier they are dangerous. This will take me some time to move on from guys”

Steve pulled her into his chest “we will be there every step if you want us there”. She grinned as much as it was possible in such a situation”I knew I wouldn’t get rid of you idiots”

“Hey” they shouted. Bucky and Sam joined the hug. “I was so scared as they stormed the building while I was alone. Not from them but from me and what I can do” she sighed and clung a little more on them.

Bucky kissed her head “that’s understandable . I know we didn’t keep our last promise, but maybe you believe me when I promise you that we will never leave you” the other two hummed in agreement and I sighed “Thnk you boys. I need some time but thank you"

‐----‐----------------‐---------------------‐--‐--‐-------------------

[overtake]

how DID you become a max girlie ? ❤️

This accidentally turned very long-winded so it’s going under a read more. TLDR: I consumed all content of Daniel I could get my hands on, which naturally included a ton of Max, and he really struck me as just a weird little guy that I wanted to put in a glass jar and shake around. Related, this tiktok makes my heart burst with fondness and it explains a lot of the “I just want to perform science experiments on him and keep him fed and warm” attitude I have towards him.

It started with the on the sofa videos. He was so funny and lively, and I was extremely confused why everyone made him out to be this soulless robot. He’s clearly very passionate and serious about what matters to him (racing), but he’s just a completely normal, fun guy. Maybe his personality isn’t for everyone - he’s not going to fake nice and he doesn’t have the same universal charisma that someone like Daniel does, but he’s so funny and entertaining in a more subtle way. Daniel constantly talking about how Max is unintentionally funny is exactly it. Max is so himself, unshakeable and matter-of-fact with a little bit of goofiness and inappropriate jokes. Also, the way Max is so unimpressed by fame and celebrity is so refreshing. He doesn’t give a fuck about status, he cares if you’ll listen to his stories about his cats or play iracing with him or indulge his long-winded explanations about every nuance of the car. It’s nice to see how utterly unaffected he is by the fame.

I was already becoming turned around on him around winter-time with all this content, but I didn’t know how I’d feel about him going into a season. I started watching some old races, and he was so much fun to watch. Then I made the potentially poor choice to search “Max Verstappen” on tiktok and oooo boy. I came out of that three hours later in a fog of fondness and that weird kind of protective attraction that first strikes a lesbian’s heart when she’s about to add another little guy to her eclectic collection of celebrity men.

I’m not used to individual sports since I only watch team ones, but I became really obsessed with Max’s drive and determination to win without apology. It’s so much fun - I can’t believe people hate him for Brazil. That shit was both petty and deserved. He has his morals and beliefs and he will stand by them, and he’s not rolling over for his teammate who was happy to screw him over. I wasn’t a Max fan then, but I was so thrown off by the outrage and hatred for him. Even if we didn’t know it was about Monaco, Max takes racing so seriously. I know he wouldn’t fuck around in a race and have had these talks with the team beforehand if it wasn’t for a legitimately founded reason. I think people just want to think the worst of him at all costs.

Then I became extra endeared from his documentary. That man loves racing so much that he puts up with the utter bullshit he has to deal with every race weekend - he seemed so stressed by crowds, extra interviews, etc. He’s not here for that and doesn’t want to put on this show. He just wants to drive. And then at home and with his family, he was so soft and funny. There were so many fun little nuggets of information (Max having a Harley? Okay, slay). Of course, the cat bits were deeply important as well. It’s obvious how much his childhood affected him, even when he usually laughs off what his dad put him through or avoids discussing how he grew up largely without his mom and sister. I found him a really resilient person who became a talented driver and genuinely kind-hearted person in spite of Jos’ shit.

I love that he doesn’t put on an act with the media. I am so sick of the same platitudes, the recycled and sickly sweet and fake ways to talk around shit. I think f1 in general is way better for getting real, raw quotes (I cannot emphasize enough how fucking unbearably boring hockey pressers are. If you get a coach saying a ref did a bad job, he’s getting fined and the whole hockey world will debate it for three days). But Max in particular doesn’t hide his contempt for their bullshit and tells it how it is. It’s so funny to watch him put people in their place.

Also: cat dad. Cat dad. Cat dad!!! Very important quality to me. I know people joke about cat dads being a green flag, but they really are. Max is so sweet with his little demons. He’s also so soft and kind to children, always making time for them (which is bare minimum human decency obviously, but it’s very cute how good he is with them as well. He really engages with them and gets down to their level and understands their boundaries well - like with that girl at silverstone who was very obviously overwhelmed and shy, and he talked with her while very carefully keeping his distance to make sure she was comfortable and felt safe and had a good experience).

In sum: there was no one moment where a light bulb just went on, but he grew on me so much the more I learned about him. It’s so much fun being a Max fan (and I don’t just mean winning, though that’s very fun after being a long-suffering fan of a cruel flop hockey team). The community of Max fans is so much fun, just celebrating all his weirdness and bad habits, and genuinely loving and embracing him for all his track terrorism and obvious hatred of the f1 circus. I’ve never seen so many people talk about wanting to eat a man (his love handles and thighs are that good though, very true). Letting myself actually learn about him and love him instead of trying to conform to the peer f1blr pressure to hate on him once I realized there might be something more to him (even when half those people seem to secretly consume and enjoy content with him anyway while pretending they can’t stand any part of him) is the best thing I’ve ever done.