#i made this for exactly the reason you think i did

[kiyoomiee]

one. two. three. four.

After that pool party incident, Sukuna tried his best to stay away from you. But how could he when you're literally everywhere?

Walking into the kitchen in the morning to find you cooking breakfast in one of his oversized shirts that Yuuji must've mistook as his and let you borrow it. The way it barely covered your thighs had him gripping his coffee mug too tight. Fucking sinful.

Running into you in the hallway after your shower, hair wet and skin flushed from the hot water. The scent of your shampoo and body wash lingering in the air long enough for him to get addicted to it even after you're gone.

Sukuna can sense that you're trying to avoid him too.

You started waiting until you hear his bedroom door close before going out of your room. You would sometimes eat your meals alone just to avoid him in the kitchen.

It was driving him insane. He wanted to avoid you, yet he can't stop seeking you out when you're gone from his sight.

He couldn't stop thinking about you, and he hated it. Hated how his body reacted every time you were near. Hated how his eyes followed you whenever you entered a room.

But most of all, he hated how you made him feel things he never felt before.

“You've been spacing out a lot lately. Everything okay?” Yuuji's voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

“Shut up.” Sukuna grunts. They were watching Yuuji's favorite movie, yet Sukuna's focus was anywhere but the screen in front of him.

His brother was more perceptive around others, contrary to other people's thoughts. Yuuji noticed his lingering eyes whenever you're around.

Where are you? You aren't home yet.

“She's sleeping over Nobara's dorm tonight, if that's what you're worried about.” Yuuji mentioned as if he can read thoughts, and watched as his brother's expression darken.

“Not worried.” Liar. Just the mention of you had his chest tighten uncomfortably.

He needed to get his shit together. You were his brother's best friend, for fuck's sake. Off limits. Forbidden. Young. Not his type.

Lies. lies. lies.

One night, Sukuna came home late from work, pissed over a client who tried to lowball him about their tattoo design which he spent fucking hours on.

He found you in the kitchen, humming softly while washing dishes. He went straight for the cupboard, he desperately needs a drink tonight.

“Oh, you're home. I saved some food for you in the fridge. Have you eaten dinner yet? I'll heat it up for you.” You turned the faucet off and faced him when a gentle smile on your face.

Even after being rude to you in countless occasions, you still manage to spare him that smile of yours. Fuck, you're too good for him. Add that to the fucking list of reasons why he can't have you.

“Are you looking for liquor? I moved it over the next shelf.”

The sight of you in his space, looking so comfortable and domestic, made something snap inside him.

“Can you stop moving my fucking things around?” he growled.

“I was just cleaning-”

“I don't care what you were doing. This is my house, I want my shit exactly where I left it.” You flinched at his harsh and spiteful tone.

Why did he have to be so mean?

“What the fuck is your problem, Sukuna? Why do you hate me so much?” Your voice was barely above a whisper.

Sukuna froze, his jaw clenching. Hate you?

“I stayed out of your way. I avoid bumping into you everyday. I tried to do something nice yet you still look at me like I disgust you. I live like a fucking ghost in this house. So tell me what I've done to make you hate me so much?”Your lips quivered as you rambled on.

You were right. You're like a ghost that haunted him even in his dreams. In his dreams where he can touch you and own you freely, a beautiful nightmare that he doesn't want to end.

As he stares at you, his thoughts became more clear. If only he could actually hate you instead of wanting you so desperately that it made him feel like he was losing his mind.

“I don't hate you.” He said through gritted teeth. He runs a hand through his hair in frustration. “That's the fucking problem.”

—————————————————————

taglist: @emyyy007 @thebumbqueen @domainofmarie @cheriiepies @jumpinjaxx @mothstvrnz @grveyrd4 @tojisbabymommasblog @realalpacorn @starriesworlds @go-go-gadget-autism @ieathairs @oidloid @krispywhisperswhispers @satorupied @zeunys @chosos-prettyprincess

[siri-ike]

I couldn't stop thinking about this so here's more.

"Here, I'll take that for you."

Gar hissed and held the baby away from The Flashes reach.

"Why? So you can have all the credit?" Dick accused. "We rescued them, not you."

"Them?" Batmans expression never changed, but Dick could tell he was in trouble.

"There was a girl, too. But she and Nadia disappeared after the skeleton room."

"What do you mean "Skelton room"?" Why is Flash even here? This isn't his city. And he's not Dicks dad.

"Exactly what it sounds like," Dick pointed at the door in the stairs. "There's a huge dungeon in there. Bunch'a dead people, and a giant room full of skeletons in robes. That's where we found the girl and the baby. She and Nadia should still be in there unless they found some other way out."

Batman and Flash exchanged a look. Well, Flash had a look, Batman barely made eyecontact.

"If there are two girls still down there, that takes presidence."

"I'll take these three home."

Dick and Gar followed Batman to his car. So did a snitch who does not deserve to get mentioned by name.

"I'm sorry." Wally someone whimpered.

"What's that? Garfield, did you say something? It couldn't have been anyone else." Dick bitched.

Not once did Batman try to stop his son from mean girls-ing another child all the way to the hotel his uncle Barry was staying at. Whenever he looked in the backseat, his eyes were on the newborn, and the 7 year old holding it.

Dick noticed ofcorse. Batman doesn't drive this slowly or carefully. What happened to "That's what belts are for."? All because there's a stupid baby in the car? Wait, Dick, stop. What are you thinking? That's completely reasonable. Dick breathed in and out. It's Wally who betrayed you, not the baby.

"Alfred, prepare a spare bedroom." Batman said to the car radio.

"Uhm, hey, Batman. We need to go to Wayne Manor." Dick tried to save the seacret ID.

"They're both coming with us."

WHAT? Does he just give out his real name to any child he comes across!? You can't just go from having no kids to having two and a baby in two weeks. That's ridiculous. And Gars, just some random kid from a Gala, there's no way you could send him into battle. Baby's no Robin, either.

Not that it mattered, Gar didn't react in the slightest. He just stared at that baby, like he was obsessed with it.

"Careful, he's possessive." Batman addressed Alfred.

"Wow, I Can Not beliEve I am in the BatCAve, a place I have never been befOre." Dick lied.

"Robin, with me."

Dick turned to Gar. "That's just a nickname. Plenty of people call me that. It's unrelated to anything else." He chased Batman to a different part of the cave.

Meanwhile, Alfred tended their guests. He crouched down to Gars level. "Son, I'm sure you're tired. I've a room ready for you upstairs. A spotless one, I might add." Alfred gave a sassy half-smile. "And I happen to be a physician as well. I assure you I can take excellent care of a baby." Alfred reach for Gars hand who almost bit him in return. "Perhaps not." Alfred stepped back and gar sat down on the floor. He was clearly tired, but for some reason, he wouldn't let go of the baby. It slept so peacefully. It probably wouldn't even notice. Alfred straitened up. "I expect you to use your words Master Logan."

There was a sudden shift in Gars' eyes. In an instant, hostility and fear were replaced with confusion and softness. It was like he he finally caught his breath. He looked around like he had no clue how he got there.

"Master Logan?"

Gar looked at Alfred like he could start weeping at any moment.

"Stay here." Alfred stepped away for no more than tree minutes, but when he returned, his guests weren't there. Alfred and Bruce searched the batcave for hours while Dick put himself to bed for once.

That night sparked two changes for the family. Batman installed security cameras everywhere in the cave and the house. And a new no sleeping in your suit rule was implemented.

Why would Clockwork de-age Danny and then just leave him in Gotham for Batman to steal? No, he'd raise that boy himself. Fuck letting others get their grubby mitts on his new son. He wants to make sure he doesn't turn evil like Dan and this is the only way he knows it will work 100%.

That is until someone summons the ancient of time and gets a baby because the portal was a little to the left.

Now Clockwork is sending ghosts to go retrieve the boy since he can't leave the realms.

[dearru]

spotlight | ft. h.iwaizumi

-> pairing: iwaizumi hajime x gn!reader | sfw | cw: cursing, oikawa is here too, not proofread | wc: 948 | mlist 

-> synopsis: iwa has always avoided the spotlight, but your attention feels different.

The spotlight has never been a friend to Iwaizumi. 

Even during his six-year stint as the ace of two powerhouse schools, he’d always felt it was cumbersome to be treated as someone of eminence. He quickly learned that he preferred to be a quiet constant rather than the center of attention. Serving as a pillar of strength for his teammates to lean on, even if it went unnoticed, was better than acting as a “star player.” 

It wasn’t until adulthood that he realized this was probably one of the reasons why he and Oikawa were such good friends. 

Notoriety comes naturally to some people, and unlike himself, Oikawa is one of them. He wore the crown bestowed upon people of extraordinary talent with such grace that he made it easy to live in his shadow. And with the fickle spotlight always on the setter, Iwaizumi could do what he did best– act as a foundation where others could build their victories. 

He spent years ingraining the art being overlooked into his very being. Even now, long after his volleyball career had ended, it still felt like second nature, especially when his friend came to visit. 

So when you– easily one of the most attractive people he’s ever seen– approach the table he and his old teammate sit at for lunch, he doesn’t even entertain the possibility that you’re here for him. 

“Um, hi.” You stutter. 

The soles of your shoes dig into the slatted floors, and he can’t help but find your sheepishness rather endearing. Your voice, soft and hesitant, complements the restaurant’s lovely atmosphere. It leaves him almost breathless. 

You have a universal allure about you that makes Iwaizumi wonder if even Oikawa, with his questionable taste, would have the sense to recognize your beauty. 

“Hey,” Oikawa says, flashing his classic smile at you. Iwaizumi gives you a simple nod in return, watching as a situation he’s been in many times unfolds in front of him. 

He knows precisely how this will play out. 

You’ll ask for Oikawa’s information, and he’ll happily give it to you. The two of you will then exchange a few messages before he eventually charms you into a dinner that Iwaizumi will inevitably hear all about.

Maybe you’ll finally be the one to capture Oikawa’s heart. You’re cute enough to. 

“Could I have your number?” You mumble, jerking your phone towards them. The gesture is much too bashful for someone as stunning as you. With how you look, he thinks having some degree of assuredness would suit you. You could have anyone you want. 

A brief still falls over the moment, and Iwaizumi almost laughs at how masterful Oikawa is at building just enough tension. He can control a room so well. 

Oikawa grins, reaching for your phone like a prize to be had. 

Everything is going exactly as Iwaizumi expected it to. 

Until you frown. 

“Uh– sorry.” You stammer, biting the inside of your cheek before shifting your gaze to Iwaizumi. Your phone moves just out of Oikawa’s grasp and centers itself in front of him instead. 

“I was actually asking for yours.” 

Iwaizumi feels the world shift off its axis. 

It’s not the first time he’s been asked for his number. He does pretty well for himself when Oikawa’s not around, but regardless, he finds himself nearly forgetting how to speak.

His face feels flush from the intensity of Oikawa’s stare. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches his friend’s open-mouthed gape and comically red ears. If he were any less shocked, he’d laugh hysterically at Oikawa’s mortified disposition.

“Yeah, of course you can have it.”

Iwaizumi concludes he must have suffered from a mini-episode of amnesia when he looks down and realizes that, at some point during this exchange, he’s reached for your phone. Still startled by what’s transpired, he traces his fingers against the smooth edge of your case to ground him.

He’s about to type his number in when he realizes he should probably say something else to you. 

“My name’s Iwaizumi. What’s yours?” 

You giggle and introduce yourself. 

Fuck. Even your name is pretty. 

A warm feeling blooms in his chest, and he looks up to see your gleeful expression. Your shoulders are much more relaxed than they were before, and your shoes are no longer digging into the floor. 

You seem relieved. It’s confusing. 

Did you really think he would say no to someone like you?

“It was nice to meet you.” He smiles once he’s entered his information, trying to be as suave as possible while ignoring the rapid beat of his heart. He stretches his arm out to give your phone back, and a jolt of electricity shoots between his fingertips when your hand brushes against his. 

“It was nice to meet you, too.” You echo with a new confidence. “I’ll text you.” 

“I’ll count on it.” 

You spin on your heels and walk away. When you’re out of earshot, he jumps from the sensation of a hand slapping his back. 

“I’ll count on it.” Oikawa repeats mockingly, lips pressed into a thin line of amusement. “I didn’t know you were so smooth, Iwa.” 

He rolls his eyes, but despite himself, he feels heat creep to the back of his neck.

“Shut up, Oikawa.” 

He chuckles. “Don’t worry. I’d be off my game too if I were you and someone asked for your number over mine.” 

Oikawa’s maniacal laughter sobers Iwaizumi and fills him with enough gall to punch him in the gut. Though, the sounds of his friend’s complaints fade into the background as an unexpected sense of satisfaction courses through his veins. 

Maybe, every once in a while, Iwaizumi wouldn’t mind stealing the spotlight for a moment.

–a/n: i blame @cherrysurf for this iwa brainrot.

[magicalqueennightmare]

Changes

Bucky Barnes x Reader (nicknamed Belle)

You invited Bucky to start staying with you when he’s in Louisiana but a change in your relationship settles the fact that it’s time to get rid of that apartment he hasn’t seen in months

Warnings: descriptions of scars, sex

You weren’t pushing Bucky to share your room with you mainly because you respected the fact that he wanted to take things slow. You weren’t stupid, you knew very damn well he could hurt you if things got too intense. You also trusted that he wouldn’t. You set up the guest bedroom closest to yours for him.  You made the bed with a set of your extra sheets and even set up the extra bathroom with towels and washcloths and such. You wanted him to feel at home in your home.

“You know he’s planning to get rid of his apartment don’t you?” Sarah asked you one day as you and her walked down the dock and you froze, “He hadn’t told me that. I assumed he’d keep it as a backup plan” she stopped and eyed you for a moment “Do you want him to keep it as a backup plan?” you slowly shook your head “No” she grinned “Didn’t think so. Belle I think he’s falling for you just as much as you’re falling for him”

You felt your face warm “Jesus, am I that transparent?” she laughed “I’ve known you your entire life sweetie” you ducked your head “I can’t exactly tell him that. Hell this is new territory for me Sarah. I’m not some blushing virgin. You know that but with him it’s different. He’s different. He’s this man who has gone through so much hell for so long and for some reason he looks at me and finds some semblance of peace in me. My craziness becomes his calm. He makes me feel safe and wanted. On my worse he wouldn’t judge me. I feel more with a kiss from him then I did with sex from any of my exes” 

She laughed “That sounds like love to me” you scrubbed your hand down your face “I’m not putting a label on anything at the moment because I’m not any pressure on him” she nodded “I’m not saying you have to but just know it’s good to see you happy and even if Sam acts like he’s annoyed, he’s happy to see Bucky getting his footing back too”

“So, you’re getting rid of your apartment. You met Nic. It’s serious between you and Belle huh?” Sam asked Bucky and he glanced up “I care about her a lot Sam” Sam nodded slowly “I can see that Buck. Not what I asked though. Your entire world is kind of starting to shift to include her. You carry that damn keychain she got you on missions with you like Steve used to carry that damn compass”

Bucky ran his fingers along the keychain in question “I like having it close. It’s a part of her” Sam smiled slightly “She’s helping to bring back a part of you, you thought you’d never see again” Bucky glared at him “Do you have any other setting beside the therapy voice or the asshole voice?” Sam barked out a laugh “Nope”

They got quiet then Sam spoke “She already knows about the nightmares” Bucky nodded “She hasn’t seen the scars yet” Sam cut his eyes up “You two haven’t…” “SAM” Bucky warned and he held up his hands “Sorry man! Didn’t mean to assume. You know Belle isn’t an asshole like that. She isn’t gonna care” Bucky nodded, he was still hesitant for you to see them or the entirety of his arm. “Don’t hold back from her man. She cares so much about you…for some reason” Sam teased and Bucky shook his head “Asshole”

Bucky was due home at any time. You had gotten off later than you were supposed to but you weren’t exactly about to chase Mr Franklins out of the store. You pulled up to your place and saw the porch light was on. That meant Bucky was already home. Home. That made a smile slip onto your face. Your place was now Bucky’s home.

___________________

You hopped out of your jeep, slamming the door behind yourself and headed for the front door. You slid your key in and called Bucky’s name. When there was no answer you figured he was in the shower. You continued into the house and froze when he was in the hallway wearing nothing but a pair of jeans, hair still wet from the shower.

The two of you stood there for several breaths just staring at each other. Fuck he was downright beautiful. Why the hell was he with you again? The man looked like he was sculpted out by the greek gods as a personal fucking favor. There were scars where his vibranium arm was connected to his shoulder but you expected that. The metal of his dogtags were a sharp contrast to the rapid rising and falling of his chest. “Bucky?” you whispered and realized how wide his eyes were.

“Sorry Doll, I’ll um put a shirt on” he headed for his room and you were stunned for a moment. What the hell just happened. He seemed embarrassed for you to see him? You shook yourself out of the hormone induced stupor and dropped your stuff onto the couch before following him down the hall. You stopped right outside his door and knocked.

__________________

The moment you knocked Bucky took a deep breath. He didn’t want to see that look in your eyes. The disgust or pity at the scars he carried because honestly he wasn’t sure which reaction he feared worse out of you.

He opened the door and your face fell when you looked up at him “You ran from me” “I didn’t want the scars to scare you” he didn’t have a better excuse. You nodded slowly “Can I come in?” he shrugged and stepped back “Your home sweetheart” you smiled and stepped in.

He watched you as you stepped closer to him. One hand tentatively came out to rest on his chest “Nothing of you could ever scare me Bucky” he swallowed hard “Belle, you don’t have to say that” you met his eyes and held them as you stepped closer, just the tips of your fingers brushing over the beginnings of the scars “Nothing of you scares me Bucky” 

______________________

You could see the way his eyes tracked your movements, how his shoulders were starting to relax just slightly. You gently traced the raised scars with your fingertips. It was clear Hydra hadn’t even attempted to take care of him after the surgery. How many infections had ravaged his body and would’ve killed him had it not been for the serum? Just how much had this man survived despite it all? 

When he didn’t move, didn’t shy away, you moved close to kiss the beginnings of the scars. His eyes closed the moment he felt your lips. “Sweetheart” you smiled “It’s ok to let someone show you gentleness. I’m not going to run from you. I know your past, I know you weren’t in control of the things they made you do” you kissed further along the scars and he swallowed hard “Belle, baby” you smiled against his skin “What is it?” 

He opened his eyes and your heart flipped when you saw they were darker than normal. “Darlin, you keep touching me like that and talking like that. I don’t know how strong my willpower is”  you nodded “I’m sorry, I just want you to know that you’re welcome to be yourself here. Don’t hold parts of yourself back from me. I want you. All of you” he watched you for a moment then pulled you into his arms, “You’re amazing sweetheart”

Your palms rested against his bare chest and god help you tried not to let them wander but damn he was gorgeous. He watched you trail your hands across his body and a slow smirk slipped onto his face “What ya doing doll?” you grinned “Sorry, I’ve just never had a man that looks like you want me. Never had a man anything like you want me, never dreamt of a man anything like you” he shook his head “I am not as good of a man as you think I am” you raised your eyes to his “Yes you are”

He smiled “That fire Belle. I love that fire, that’s the same fire you had the day you met me and was willing to fight me over your nephews” you grinned “In my defense there was a random man in Sarah’s house” he laughed and leaned down to brush a kiss against your lips Your hands slid up his chest to hook behind his neck, fingers teasing against his dogtag chain to bring him closer. He rolled his tongue into your mouth and you whimpered lightly against his lips. He grinned against your mouth before you had to pull away to catch your breath. “You ok Belle?”

You nodded “I think I need to let you get a shirt on if we’re not planning to do anything right now because all I want to do is beg you at the moment” and you were rewarded with a light blush gracing his cheeks. “I want to. God I want to but I want to make sure I won't hurt you” you nodded, laying your head over on his chest “I know. I trust that you won’t but you have to trust you won’t” you raised your head and smiled at him “For now” and pressed a kiss to his lips “Know that I love the sight of you shirtless” he smirked “I’ll remember that darlin” you shook your head and untangled yourself from his arms “I’m gonna go put my stuff away and let you get a shirt on” he nodded “Ok”

You looked over your shoulder one more time to get another glimpse of his bare chest and he grinned when he saw he had your attention. “Go on beautiful” you laughed “Ok” and walked out of the room.

You and Bucky ended up at Sarah’s for dinner which really wasn’t a surprise. You normally ended up there. You mainly had breakfast food at your house and some snacks for the boys. All other grocery shopping the food ended up at Sarah’s because that was where you always ended up.

___________________

You laughed, watching the boys chase each other around the yard. It was such a normal evening. Or almost if you didn’t think about the fact that Bucky and Sam had gotten back from a deadly mission a couple hours before in a classified place doing some rescue mission.

“I was thinking we could do Mardi Gras this year if the fellas end up being home” Sarah spoke from next to you and you cut your eyes at her with a grin “Mardi Gras? We haven’t done that in years but do we really wanna take Captain America and the Bucky Barnes along?” she grinned “We should get top treatment” 

You laughed “Good point. Hell I’m up for it if Sam’s home” she laughed “I figured you would be. Think Bucky would be up for the crowd?” you shrugged, looking up where he was talking to Sam “I’ll ask him later” she nodded and sat down next to you. “You two are adorable” you shook your head “Gina has told me the same thing and Kayla has apparently mailed Bucky magnets for his arm that should be here in the next day or two” 

She cracked up laughing “Oh I’m sure he’ll love that” you nodded “There’s flower ones too” she shook her head “I can’t wait to see that”  Bucky looked over at you and smiled. Fuck you were head over heels weren’t you? How were you supposed to keep it in check? 

“Might see if Nic and Gina wanna do Mardi Gras. Depending on his schedule” she grinned “That would be fun” you nodded and the two of you went into planning while the boys played.

“What were you and Sarah laughing so much about?” Bucky asked as he followed you into the door of your place. You looked over your shoulder at him “We were actually planning Mardi Gras” he raised both eyebrows “That huge party New Orleans has” you grinned “He knows what Mardi Gras is! I’m proud”

He shook his head “I’m old, not dead darlin” you laughed “If you two are in town or well if Sam’s in town we’re thinking about going then if you think you’d be good with the crowds” he nodded slowly “I think I’d be ok” you smiled “Ok, I’m gonna check with Gina and Nic too” “Sounds good” he reached out for your waist and pulled you into a kiss. Your hands went to his chest, fingers playing with his dogtags. When he pulled away from your lips you smiled “Night Bucky” he kissed the tip of your nose “Night Belle”

You started towards your room but stopped halfway “You could sleep in here with me if you wanted. You didn’t hurt me when we shared the couch” he nodded slowly so you added “I’m not gonna be upset if you don’t. Just offering” and continued into your room.

You were just getting out of the shower when you heard Bucky knock at your bedroom door. “Hold on a second!” you called and slipped the oversize shirt and panties you normally slept in on.

You walked out of the bathroom and to the door. When you opened it he was standing there and looked so damn nervous it made your heart flip. He had on a pair of grey sweatpants and nothing else. “Damn” you whispered, forgetting that his hearing was better. He smirked slightly, “That offer still stand?”

You stepped back and waved him in “Of course” he walked into the room and you closed the door behind him. “Do you have a side of the bed you prefer?” you asked and he shook his head “Not really” you nodded “Good, I like the right” he was still kind of just standing in the middle of the floor so you slipped your hand into his vibranium one, the metal cool under your touch  “It’s just sleeping in the bed with me Bucky. Nothing more honey” he lightly traced the back of your hand with his thumb and a small smile slipped onto his face when you didn’t flinch. It hurt when you realized that was what he expected. God he’d gone too long without kindness, without the gentleness he deserved. 

You pulled him towards the bed and he let you so you only let his hand go to walk around to your side of the bed. You stopped and cut your eyes down “Is this ok? Should I put some shorts or something on?” his eyes trailed down your body and you felt your face warm at the look in them “No doll, that’s perfect” you grinned “Ok then” and slid under the comforter. He walked around and climbed into the bed next to you, turning on his side to face you. 

_______________________

You smiled, bringing up one hand but stopped right before putting it on his chest “Is this ok?” he nodded “You can touch me Belle” you spread your hand out across his chest, smoothing it over the muscle. He swallowed hard, eyes staying on yours. “You’re so damn beautiful darlin” you felt your face warm “Barnes you have got to be the most gorgeous man I have ever laid my eyes on. I am mediocre at best next to you”

He was laying on his right side and you could tell even after this long he was still afraid to touch you intimately with his left arm. He raised it to brush your hair back from your face and you leaned into his touch. He smiled “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen Belle and I’ve been alive a very long time” you laughed “Don’t remind me I’m a grave robber” he scrunched his nose up “A what?” you shook your head “That’s what Nic keeps teasing me with since you’re over one hundred” he grinned “Grave robber huh? Cute little grave robber aren’t ya?”

Your fingers hooked into his dogtag chain, not pulling it just holding onto it. “Can I kiss you?” you asked quietly and he smiled “Yeah sweetheart” you moved closer to brush your lips against his in a gentle kiss. You pulled away and rolled your lip between your teeth as he stared at you, throat moving with the force of how hard he was swallowing “Can I kiss you?” he asked and you grinned “Of course”

_____________________

He moved his left hand down to your thigh, gently gripping it before tugging you closer. That caused a little gasp of surprise to escape you and he laughed lightly. When his lips met yours you whimpered into his mouth, at the feeling of his metal fingers digging in just slightly to the soft flesh of your thigh. He rolled his tongue into your mouth, flicking it against yours and deepening the kiss. Your hands hooked around his neck, tugging him over on top of you. He let you direct his movements, shifting to put his weight on his left hand as he pinned your body down to the mattress with his.

When you had to pull away from the kiss to catch your breath he moved to kiss down your neck, kissing the soft flesh there. Your fingers were pressing into his shoulders and when he hit a certain spot your hips bucked up off the bed into his and you moaned when you felt the fact that he was already half hard. He broke away from your skin and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath “We should stop” 

You nodded, “If you want to we can stop honey. It’s ok” he opened his eyes and when they met yours you were the one to swallow hard from the look in them “I don’t want to stop Belle. I want you, god I want you but it’s been so long..I don’t want to hurt you..we don’t have protection..”  “I have an iud if it’s pregnancy you’re worried about” you offered and he raised an eyebrow and for a moment you thought you may have to explain what an iud was but he nodded “What about me hurting you?” “You won’t” you argued and he smiled “Tell me if I do, please and we stop” you nodded “Of course” your heart was in your throat by that point.

_______________________

He crashed his lips against yours, flesh hand slipping under your shirt. You gasped when his fingers just barely brushed against the nipple of one of your breasts. He pulled back from your lips with a smirk “Sensitive sweetheart?” you nodded “It’s been a few years for me” the smile he got on his face was so soft “Can I take this shirt off of you?” you knew this was a big step in your relationship. You smiled “Please” 

He helped you lean up far enough to slip the shirt off and the moment you were bare under him both of you froze. You were nervous, not because of Bucky but some of your exes and their less than loving comments were flashing through your mind. Bucky stared at your body for a moment “I knew you were beautiful Belle but this? Are you sure you want me?” you laughed lightly, feeling your face warm “Hush Bucky” he grinned and crashed his lips against yours.

His flesh hand teased across your breast and you whimpered into his mouth. He moved from your lips to kiss across your jaw then down your neck. You gasped when he got to the sensitive skin at the bend of your neck “That feels so good” you moaned and felt him grin against your skin. He kept moving down your body, teasing your skin with his lips and tongue. “Christ” you gasped when he got to your chest and rolled one of your nipples into his mouth.

“Bucky” you moaned when his left hand came up, metal fingers teasing your other nipple and the cool was such a contrast to the warmth of his body. He pulled off of your skin and cut his eyes up at you. Your chest was already heaving. He grinned “You still with me beautiful?” you nodded “I’m good, you haven’t exactly lost your touch if you were wondering”

He smiled and pressed a kiss to your stomach “Let me know if I do anything you don’t like” you nodded “I will” he smiled and turned his attention back to your body. When he got to the band of your panties, you swallowed hard and he looked up at you, a look of confusion on his gorgeous face “Is this ok Belle?” you nodded “Yeah just..nevermind” he raised an eyebrow so you covered your face with your hands “My exes complained if I ever even asked”

“Uncover your face” That was the first time he’d ever used that much authority in his voice with you so you reacted almost immediately. You lowered your hands and he was staring at you “I’m not them, my girl comes first” he smirked then added “In more ways than one” you shook your head with a smile. He reached for the waistband of your panties “So, can I?” you nodded so he pulled them off your hips then down your legs.

He moved down the bed further, settling his shoulders between your legs. You hadn’t realized until that moment quite how broad his shoulders actually were until he pulled your legs up onto them. He held your eyes as he flicked his tongue across your clit. Your head fell back against the pillows, a moan of his name falling from your lips. He rolled his tongue into you, kissing you, tasting like he had your mouth, exploring. Your hips were bucking off the bed, chasing the pleasure from his tongue. He slipped his metal arm around your waist to hold you to the bed. 

He pushed one finger into you and you whined low in your throat then he added a second curling them up until he hit that spot that had your legs shaking around him. You were practically humping his damn face at that point but you were beyond caring. That man was doing magic with his fingers and tongue. He sucked your clit into his mouth and your orgasm caught you off guard when it washed over you. You were practically sobbing his name as your legs shook around his head. He continued to work you through the aftershocks of the orgasm until you tapped his shoulder weakly “Too much”

He moved back, lowering your legs and smiled up at you almost shyly considering you were fairly certain he’d just made you see god. “How are you feeling?” he asked and you took a deep breath “Feelin like you better get rid of that apartment. You aint leavin now Barnes” you teased and he grinned “Wouldn’t dream of it”

“Come here” he crawled up your body and lord have mercy the sight of him, slowly moving up your bare body, kissing every inch of skin with his dogtags dangling loose? You nearly came again. When he got to your lips he rolled his tongue against yours, letting you taste yourself. 

You were practically panting against his mouth “I want you Bucky, please” he nodded, hands moving to shove his sweatpants off. He kicked them off the bed and you looked down between the two of you and whimpered lightly “Having second thoughts?” he teased and you shook your head “I trust you won’t hurt me” he smiled and pressed a kiss to your lips as he lined himself up with your opening “Are you sure?” you nodded “Please”

He pushed into you slowly and you whimpered, pulling him back into a kiss. He stilled to let you get adjusted to his size. You pulled back from his lips just to look up at him, one hand teasing into his hair the other playing with the chain of his dogtags “See? Not hurting me” you breathed and he smiled “You’re amazing” and crashed his lips against yours. 

He gave a tentative movement of his hips and you moaned into his mouth. He broke away from your lips and watched your face as he pulled back then thrust into you. You gasped “Feels so good” he held his weight up on his left hand, right hand gripping your thigh to hook it around his waist as he found a pace that worked for you both. You knew he needed a little deeper and a little rougher and he was afraid of hurting you. He found a rhythm that was somewhere between. 

Your hands were braced against his chest, breasts bouncing with the force of his thrusts and he watched them with an almost entranced look. You were so damn close. He shifted his hips just right and your orgasm slapped into you. Your vision went soft around the edges as you clenched down around him and he grunted, burying himself into you with a final thrust before you felt him cum, filling you up. You whimpered as he lowered his head to your collarbone, pressing a kiss there. “Are you ok?” he asked, looking up at you and you smiled “I’m ok, I’m gonna need you to carry me to the shower in a few minutes though” 

He laughed “I can do that sweetheart” then gently pulled out of you, kissing you when you whined from the loss of contact then he moved to lay down next to you and pull you over onto his chest. “Was that good?” he asked and you laughed “Oh Bucky, that was the best sex I’ve ever had” you cut your eyes up at him and he had a smirk on his face “The best seriously?”

You raised an eyebrow “Seriously. I’m keeping you Sergeant. This is your home now. Forget that apartment. You sir are now a citizen of Louisiana” he grinned “I’ve been a lot worse than that” and pulled you into another kiss.  

@desimarie12

[danadiadea]

1) Beating one's wife was once seen as normal? Homophobia was once seen as normal? Actually within the Harry Potter universe thinking that Voldemort had the right ideas and being a blood purist was normal! The death eaters outnumbered the Order 20:1, Sirius says that lots of people thought Voldemort had the right ideas, and even after the war British wizards literally had chosen a blood purist (at least according to Albus) as their Minister! Why would you say Snape was wrong for using the word Mudblood then?

The thing is, a violation of one's bodily boundaries and basic feelings of privacy and safety and control would influence the victim's mental health, even if the perpetrator supposedly "doesn't know" it's wrong.

I have zero idea what is tcoptp, I'm pretty sure we are discussing Harry Potter books? Is it some kind of Marauders fanfition or what?... The only people who do almost exactly what James did in the books are the Death Eaters to the family of Muggles in GoF, and every character understands how wrong it is. Also it's strongly implied that James took Snape's underwear off – there is no reason to include the phrase that suggests something that can't be shown in the books for children and pull Harry out just after it if the author didn't want to convey that it happened.

2) well if you are stating something it's rather logical people would confront it if it's not true

3) we see that James during the SWM insistently asks Lily out, including the bit when he tries to blackmail her (the quote in punkt 7). After she said "no" and "I hate you" as clearly as she did, the only possibly normal thing to do was to leave her alone. But James kept trying to win her attention for at least one more year and for at least one more year she kept refusing. Then he supposedly stopped hexing people "for the fun of it" and she agreed to date him, and he "didn't take Snape on their dates to hex him" so that she doesn't change her mind. Even if we assume that his try to ask Lily out in that manner during the SWM was the first one (which I personally don't think is likely), it surely wasn't anywhere near the last one. And this is absolutely a disregard to her boundaries and a belief that she is supposed to date him because it's his wish.

Harry was literally so horrified with their dynamics his initial thought was that his father had forced his mother into a relationship.

4) WHAT respectful kind adults? Albus "I'll silence your murder attempt" Dumbledore? Minerva "thinks that sending 11yo kids to the forest where something kills unicorns is a great punishment" McGonagall? Horace "made an elitist club inside the school" Slughorn? Did they ever stop the bullying? No, they didn't. Did they ever stop the DEs recruiting children? No, they didn't. Hogwarts was full of neglectful adults who weren't doing their goddamn jobs. What are you talking about.

5) Shoving Harry in OoTP sure wasn't good, but it wasn't intentionally cruel. Harry literally retraumatised Snape, and after he trusted Harry enough to leave him alone with the memories that not only held Snape's most private life moments, but also probably the war secrets Harry absolutely shouldn't have known, Harry decided to peek inside, witnessing his teacher being assaulted and almost seeing him fully naked. Literally anyone would've lost control in a situation like that – it's called having a nervous system. Way fewer people would humiliate and tie up and choke with soap and raise up in the air and undress their classmate because their friend had been bored.

Also, McGonagall grabbed 11yo Draco's ear because he broke curfew? Most things that Snape did as a teacher other teachers also did, only with much flimsier exuses. The only characters we see doing what James did in the books are, yet again, the DEs.

6) calling DEs nazis is very problematic, but ok. Snape WAS a mean and deeply imperfect teacher (i don't remember when did he make fun of Ron's wand though? and the questions he asked Harry weren't advanced, a 11yo muggleborn girl had known the answers. also he DID make Trevor drink the potion and it WAS safe). His actions weren't out of the ordinary for Hogwarts stuff, but yeah, he had a lot of room for improvement. That doesn't make Snape "the other side of the coin" of a privileged bully. This makes Snape a disfunctional adult not really cut out for his job.

being groomed into a terrorist group and calling his friend a slur during a traumatic event doesn't make Snape the other side of the coin of a privileged bully either, it makes him a textbook example of a discriminated and vulnerable youth who falls easy prey to radicalisation. which isn't good by any means, but it's not bad in the same way hexing people because you find it amusing is.

7) "I will [leave Snape alone] if you go out with me, Evans,” said James quickly. “Go on . . . Go out with me, and I’ll never lay a wand on old Snivelly again"

Frankly, the James/Lily interactions make me hate him almost as much as James/Severus interactions.

8) "And my mum was okay with that [James still hexing Snape on their 7th year]?”

“She didn’t know too much about it, to tell you the truth,” said Sirius. “I mean, James didn’t take Snape on dates with her and jinx him in front of her, did he?”

You could soften that to "withheld information" I guess, but he clearly understood that Lily would be unhappy with that if she knew. And this is the info James' literal best friend is giving on him, lol.

9) I refer to that sneaking out: "James is getting a bit frustrated shut up here, he tries not to show it but I can tell — also, Dumbledore’s still got his Invisibility Cloak, so no chance of little excursions". That's how we know that Albus didn't take the Cloak for "experimenting" (which had been a dumb exuse, since that stuff can hide people from death and this is something Potters needed a lot), but so that James stays at his freaking Fidelius hidden home with their infant.

James died because he chose a secret keeper with his ass, sorry. There was no reason for him to die, if he just listened to Albus or at least became a keeper himself, he would've lived. When Voldemort already was at his house, he didn't have a choice.

I don't care about who is a bastard and who is not – what I'm saying is that people hurting others because they think it's funny and because they feel like they have a right to do it are not the same as people hurting others because they are traumatised and triggered. I agree Snape wasn't cut dry bad or good, just like Sirius, or Remus, or Albus (with their own good and bad sides, and in quite different ways and proportions), but frankly, James wasn't given any redeeming qualities except for being a part of the Order and not hating his friends as much as Sirius did (aka stopping Lupin from killing Snape). That's it. His change is nowhere in the books. His good deeds are nowhere in the books. He and Snape are not "cruel" or "arrogant" in the same way at all.

hey gang. are we gonna talk about how Snape grew into exactly what he perceived teenage James Potter to be? unnecessarily cruel, picked on those with less power than him, arrogant (debatable for Snape but the 'I can teach you how to bottle fame brew glory stopper death etc' speech was him GLAZING himself LMAO) and found a target in a kid with a difficult family life?

this isnt a criticism of Snape or James. this is just an observation and objective fact. both Snape and James were/did the things I listed above, James in his adolescence and Snape in his adulthood. I just found it interesting.

EDIT: by saying you hate snape you're essentially saying you hate teenage james potter haha. you can't have it both ways, they're two sides of the same coin

[notablenotions]

The Masks of Nobility- Chapter 4

Jitka scribbled in her notebook as she studied the chamomile in the herb garden. The regional variations were subtle but noticeable to a discerning eye. When there were fewer eyes on her, she would have to return for a more detailed analysis. She made a mental note to do so.

Behind her, George yawned, clearly exhausted from the previous night's festivities. He followed her, grateful for the brew she had given him that dulled the worst of his hangover. She wondered if, after experiencing the true aftermath of merriment without her remedies, her family would regret marrying her off to the first person—well, persons—her uncle could find who would take her.

George leaned over her shoulder, watching as she jotted down her notes.

"Are you not sore? I heard for women it hurts," he asked bluntly.

Jitka continued writing. "I'm fine, George. Honestly."

George frowned. "Are you sure you didn’t misunderstand? Did he treat you kindly?"

Before he could continue, Henry of Skalitz stormed into the garden, his heavy boots crunching against the gravel path. Behind him, Hans trailed closely, clinging to Henry’s presence like a child hiding behind his mother’s skirts.

George raised a quizzical eyebrow at the ridiculous display.

Jitka sighed. So much for finishing her study of regional herb variations.

Henry bowed, his formality at odds with the obvious irritation in his stance.

"Milady, I apologize for the intrusion, and I mean no offense by my words."

George straightened, stepping protectively in front of Jitka, his back straight and shoulders squared to rival Henry’s stance. The entire situation became even more farcical.

Jitka shoved George aside. "George, you’re being ridiculous. Go fetch the brew for after-merriment."

George hesitated but begrudgingly obeyed, muttering under his breath as he stalked off.

Now alone with her husband and his ever-loyal bodyguard, Jikta glanced at Henry, who looked as though he would rather be anywhere else. Then, at Hans, peering over Henry’s shoulder as if using him as a shield.

Honestly. Her husband was a fool.

Henry exhaled. "Ladyship, as Sir Hans’s bodyguard, his safety is my priority."

Jitka nodded along. "As it should be. That’s reasonable."

Henry blinked, clearly not expecting such a cordial response.

"You see... Sir Hans believes you may have poisoned him on, erm… your wedding night. Sir Hans can be—" Henry hesitated, searching for the right word. "Suspicious."

George, who had just returned with the brew, choked.

"Sakra, Jikta! What did you do?!" He grabbed her arm as if to shake a confession out of her.

Unnecessary. As far as Jitka was concerned, she had done both of them a favor.

"Yes, I did."

Silence.

Hans gasped, the sound scandalized.

"See, Henry! I told you!" he exclaimed triumphantly.

More silence. As if they all expected her to elaborate.

George pinched the bridge of his nose. "Christ, Jitka. Why? …Wait. Did he hurt you?"

Hans gasped again, this time in what Jikta could only assume was utter indignation.

"I would never hurt a maid!"

Henry raised a hand, signaling for the conversation to slow before Hans could launch into another melodramatic outburst.

"Jikta, please explain."Henry retorted rubbing his temples in frustration.

She tilted her head. Oh, that’s what they wanted?

"Perhaps we should go somewhere private, my lord. Wherever my lord feels safest?" Jitka said calmly, her tone collected despite the chaos surrounding them.

----

Apparently, her husband lacked the cognitive ability to pick up on subtlety, because now they were all crammed into Henry’s humble lodgings.

Silence fell. They all looked at her.

George cleared his throat. "Jitka, I think they—"

"You were going to explain," he reminded.

Jitka nodded, fidgeting with her hands. She couldn’t exactly say, I saw my husband and his bodyguard in an intimate embrace, especially not in front of George. She had no idea how Hans or Henry would react, and any misstep could reflect poorly on her—and that she couldn’t afford.

"What you described as poison," she began slowly, "was what I would call a... sleeping draught."

She glanced down at her hands again, trying to avoid the intensity of their focus. This entire situation required tact, diplomacy—things she was utterly ill-equipped for.

"My lord," she looked briefly at Hans, "you seemed tired... the bags under your eyes, the distress… perhaps from drink? I felt you needed rest."

Hans leaned forward, clearly not buying it, his brows furrowed in doubt.

She panicked, her words tumbling out in a rush.

She had to fix this.

A husband bedding his guard meant a husband who left her be. An arrangement she found agreeable. A husband who hated her or thought her a witch could bring far worse hardship.

She cleared her throat; her mouth felt dry as sand.

"You see, my lord, I... might be described—politely—as odd. Ill-fitting for my noble blood."

George tried to interject. "Jikta, that’s not—"

But she pressed on, ignoring him.

"I struggle to be touched. By anyone. I have no romantic inclinations."

Hans interrupted, eyes wide. "What—none? Not even after seeing me?!" His voice was full of bewilderment, as if her very existence challenged the natural order.

Henry choked on his breath, unable to suppress a laugh. The irony of Hans's inflated ego never failed to amuse.

Jitka remained serious. "None at all. And you may have noticed I’m utterly hopeless in social situations. The noise, the fabric of the dress, the entire day was... unbearable. And bedding, with a jeering crowd outside... it was too much." Her voice faltered into a whisper, eyes fixed on her hands, burning with shame.

She risked a glance at Hans.

To her surprise, there was sympathy—almost empathy—in his eyes. And... relief? Perhaps to him, her issues were far easier to stomach than the alternative—a demon summoning witch.

She pressed on. "When I saw what I perceived as similar grief in you, and unwillingness, I—"

Henry stepped in, voice steady.

"Decided to take it upon yourself to protect both of you."

Hans looked at Henry thoughtfully, his expression unreadable. He’d gone still—no longer the panicked, petulant prince, but the lord he’d been raised to be: measured, guarded.

Hans pressed a finger to his lips in thought. "I appreciate the intention..." he murmured, clearly lost in deeper considerations.

Henry added, "You didn’t know how milord would react, so you spiked his wine."

Jikta nodded, staring at her knees, feeling like a child being scolded by her old nursemaid, Nan.

"Despite being wed, my lord... I do not know you. A husband can treat his wife as he sees fit."

Hans nodded, acknowledging the imbalance. Then, suddenly, he laughed—a bright, incredulous sound.

"Christ, woman," he wiped a tear from his eye, chuckling. "I can see the sound logic behind such a ridiculous plan that even I, Hans Capon, am left without words."

He sprang up, still chuckling, his tone laced with amusement—and something else: warmth.

"Fear not, wife. We will talk later. Henry, come."

His voice was light, but not unkind.

At the door, he paused, voice softening into a tone Jitka had heard her father use to comfort her as a child. Reassuring. Gentle.

"I’ll come to your chambers this evening. Just to discuss how we might wear out the nose of this marriage."

With a flourish, he strode out, Henry following after.

George sighed, rubbing his temple.

"Fucksake, Jitka."

[perfectsunlight]

[37] HOME

warnings: none

ivory hadn’t been to her mother’s house in years. she’d only been on a few separate occasions, never spending the night or anything. that wasn’t allowed after jennie had moved out of jieun’s home. usually when she had to go to her mother’s house it was to pick up something for jieun or vice versa. sometimes her grandmother would leave things by accident, and would go with her to go pick it up after school.

looking back now, jane has reason to believe her grandmother did that on purpose so her mother could see her.

ivory’s eyes took in the space around her, a quiet sort of awe settling in her chest. the house was elegant but lived-in, warm in a way that surprised her. she had always imagined her mother’s home as something distant and impersonal, a place too pristine to truly belong to her. but standing here now, she realized how wrong she had been.

the scent was the first thing that hit her—a familiar mix of white florals and something undeniably her mother. it tugged at something deep in her memory, something she hadn’t let herself feel in years.

jennie walked ahead of her, carrying one of ivory’s bags effortlessly in one hand. "you hungry? i have that one brand of ramen you used to love." her tone was light, casual, as if this was something they did all the time.

jane hesitated in the doorway, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “you remember that?”

her mother glanced back, a small, knowing smile playing on her lips. it was truly a wonderful gift as a mother to remember everything about the carbon copy of herself while watching her grow into someone entirely her own. “of course, i do,” jennie said simply, as if it had never been a question. “you went through a phase where it was all you wanted to eat. i used to sneak it to you when your grandmother wasn’t looking.”

ivory huffed softly at the faintest memory, shaking her head. “she hated me eating junk food.”

“she still does.” jennie chuckled, setting the bag down by the stairs before turning to look at her daughter properly. “but i figured, if you’re staying here, you should at least have something that feels like home.”

the words struck something deep in ivory’s chest. 

staying here. home. 

she swallowed, forcing herself to step further inside, eyes scanning the house—the high ceilings, the sleek furniture, the warmth in every carefully curated detail. it didn’t look exactly how she remembered it, but it still felt undeniably hers. like somewhere she could belong.

“where’s kuma?” ivory asked after she cleared her throat, trying to dispel the notion that this million dollar building was her home. her mother’s lips curled into a small smile at the mention of her beloved dog. “sleeping in my room, probably under the covers like he owns the place,” she said, shaking her head fondly. “he’s gotten lazier with age, but i think he’ll be happy to see you.”

ivory nodded, her fingers lightly grazing the edge of the marble countertop as she took in the house once more. it was strange—so much of it was unfamiliar, yet it still held remnants of something she couldn’t quite put into words. something that made her chest ache.

“you can go wake him up if you want,” jennie offered, watching her carefully. the taller girl hesitated before shaking her head. “no, let him sleep. i’ll see him later.” she cleared her throat again, trying to fill the quiet between them.

her mother returned to making the instant ramen, a quiet determination in the way she moved. ivory wasn’t sure why she was so focused—after all, it was just ramen. but the older woman handled it with the same careful attention she gave to everything else, as if even this small act needed to be done just right.

ivory shifted on her feet, glancing at the counter before hesitantly stepping closer. “do you, um, need help or something?” her mother glanced up in surprise, as if the offer had caught her off guard. “oh,” she said, then quickly shook her head. “no, it’s fine. it’s just ramen.”

jane awkwardly rested her hands on the counter. “right. just ramen.” silence stretched between them again, not quite heavy but noticeable. ivory watched as her mother poured hot water over the noodles, the steam curling into the air between them. she tapped her fingers against the marble, then, without thinking, reached for the seasoning packets.

jennie noticed but didn’t say anything. she just slid one of the bowls toward ivory, a silent invitation.

ivory carefully tore open the packet, shaking in the seasoning. “i think you forgot this.”

a ghost of a smile touched jennie’s lips. “i was getting to it.”

“uh-huh.” ivory stirred the noodles, the simple motion giving her something to focus on. she felt her mother’s eyes on her but didn’t look up. "you know, i’ve made this for you more times than i can count," her mother mused, her voice carrying a hint of nostalgia.

ivory glanced up, chopsticks hovering over the steaming bowl. "yeah?"

jennie just hummed, tilting her head slightly. "when you were little, you’d get these random cravings in the middle of the night. and of course, your grandmother didn’t want you eating instant ramen at the time, so i had to sneak it to you like it was some kind of contraband."

a small scoff left ivory’s lips as she twirled her noodles. "that sounds fake, but okay." her mother smirked, shaking her head. "it’s true. you’d shuffle into my room with your blanket wrapped around you and tell me you’re hungry and it would be like 3 in the morning."

ivory tried to suppress the small smile threatening to tug at her lips. "and you actually made it for me?"

"every single time." jennie reached for the pot and immediately blocked her daughter with her arm when she saw her daughter move. "ah, don’t touch that. it's hot."

ivory blinked at her slightly confused but deadpan. "mom, i’m eighteen." she said slowly, as if trying to remind the older woman. "and yet," jennie reminded, narrowing her eyes as she dramatically pushed her daughter back a step with her free hand, "you still somehow have the survival instincts of a toddler. just let me do it."

the taller girl groaned, throwing her head back in exasperation. "seriously?" the younger girl shook her head and leaned against the counter off to the side.

jennie ignored her dramatics as she carefully poured the steaming broth into their bowls. "see? if i let you do it, you’d probably burn yourself and then i’d have to explain to the entire world why my fully grown daughter can’t be trusted with boiling water."

ivory crossed her arms, unimpressed. "i can be trusted with boiling water." jennie simply shot her a look as she set the pot down. "weren’t you the one who grabbed a hot pan straight out of the oven once?"

a faint flush of embarrassment came onto her face but jane just clenched her jaw. she knew better than to argue against her mother with this, especially given her track record. she just huffed quietly and looked away.

her mother gave her a pointed look before sliding one of the bowls toward her. "exactly. now sit down and eat your noodles before you hurt yourself on those too."

ivory rolled her eyes but begrudgingly obeyed, grabbing her chopsticks. "unbelievable," she muttered, stabbing at the noodles but didn’t argue further. for a moment, they just simply ate in silence, the warmth of the broth filling the space between them. it was simple—just instant ramen—but somehow, in this quiet moment, it tasted like something more. like her childhood. 

soft. safe. simple.

then came the subject of sleeping. something ivory hadn’t necessarily worried about. from what she remembered, her mother had a guest room or two. she assumed she’d be staying there for the night, maybe for the next few days. it made sense, at least. the world was up in arms over them both, and she couldn’t exactly show her face anywhere for the time being.

“um,” jane cleared her throat as she set her utensils down, glancing at her mother. “can i shower? i’ll have to borrow some of your clothes. i don’t know if they’ll fit me though.” jennie let out a bark of amusement, looking at her daughter in incredulous curiosity. “why wouldn’t you fit in my clothes?”

the younger girl blinked at her mother, taking in the absurdity of the situation as if it was truly rocket science. "wait, what do you mean, ‘why wouldn’t i fit in your clothes’?" she asked, tilting her head slowly with furrowed brows of confusion. "you're the short one here."

jennie let out a small, disbelieving laugh, her eyes narrowing playfully. "short? you’re literally only like a centimeter taller than me. barely worth mentioning, sweetheart."

ivory’s jaw dropped open slightly, her cat-like eyes widening in shock. “no. it’s definitely more than that.” the taller girl said flatly. but her mother just raised an eyebrow, straightening her posture and tilting her head slightly to the side just like her daughter had.

“wanna bet?” 

the younger girl shook her head in amusement. “can i shower first and then we can measure it?” jane asked with a huff of indulgence as she moved away from the counter. her mother just chuckled, letting her daughter go. “fine, fine. go shower, baby. but don’t take forever. i’ve got a tape measure with your name on it.”

ivory shot her a look of feigned annoyance before disappearing down the hallway, and jennie returned to her bowl of ramen, suddenly feeling the weight of the moment. it had been so long since she’d had her daughter here, let alone like this—teasing her, laughing, talking like everything was normal.

a quiet thought crept into jennie’s mind. she hadn’t realized until this very second just how much she’d missed the sound of her daughter’s voice in this house. it was small, but it mattered.

she quickly shook off the sentimentality and went to clean up the table. as she put the dishes away, her eyes drifted toward the hall. then she saw those unmistakable eyes turning around to face her again from the hallway. ivory poked the inside of her cheek with her tongue, looking very shy for once.

“i don’t remember where anything is.” she said hesitantly, reminding the blackpink idol of just how much time her daughter had spent outside of this place. 

jennie let out a soft chuckle, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel before stepping toward her daughter. “right. let me show you.”

leading the way down the hall, she pushed open the door to her bedroom and beelined for the closet, sliding it open with practiced ease. inside, perfectly arranged clothes lined the racks, their organization betraying the habits of someone who lived alone and had too much time to curate every inch of her space.

ivory lingered near the doorway, arms loosely crossed, watching as her mother flipped through different sweatshirts with a focused expression, muttering under her breath like this was a high-stakes styling session.

"okay," jennie mused, plucking a hoodie from its hanger and turning, pressing it against her daughter's torso as if measuring it by sight. "this one’s big enough, i think."

a slow blink. "that’s a crop top on me."

she frowned, lifting the hem slightly, as if somehow stretching the fabric would change reality. “oh.” tossing it aside without hesitation, she grabbed another and repeated the process. "alright, this one, then."

ivory glanced down, then back up with a deadpan look. "that’s chanel."

jennie blinked in confusion. "and?" 

without missing a beat, the younger girl looked at her mother as if she’d just asked if the sky was blue. "you just asked me if i want to sleep in a chanel hoodie. me, a dior ambassador, in a chanel hoodie."

"would you prefer dior?" her mother asked sarcastically. but once again, ivory didn’t even hesitate. “yes actually, i would.”

silence followed. jennie gave a slow blink. then another.

the blackpink idol’s head tilted slightly, as if waiting for the punchline. but ivory just stood there, completely unfazed, holding the chanel hoodie like it personally offended her.

the older woman narrowed her eyes. "you’re joking." her daughter crossed her arms, looking ever so serious for an eighteen year old. "i’m not."

jennie scoffed, placing a hand on her hip. “excuse me?”

“you offered.”

“that was sarcasm.”

“well,” ivory shrugged, completely deadpan. “mine wasn’t.” jennie gasped, clutching the chanel hoodie to her chest as if shielding it from betrayal. “i raised you.”

“and you did a great job,” ivory said smoothly, then nodded toward the closet. “now, do you have any dior, or should i start making some calls?”

jennie let out a sharp, disbelieving laugh, tossing the hoodie onto her bed before pointing a stern finger at her daughter. "you are not calling dior for pajamas."

jane didn’t say anything but she heard her mother rumbling something about “disrespect in her own home” while storming back toward the closet. begrudgingly, she yanked out an oversized sweatshirt—the most brandless one she could find—and practically threw it at her daughter’s face.

"here. no labels. just fabric. happy now?"

the younger girl caught it with ease, holding it up to inspect it like she was checking for hidden chanel embroidery. with a thoughtful nod, she conceded, "acceptable."

jennie shot her an unimpressed look before spinning back toward the drawers for sweatpants. “unbelievable. my own daughter. a traitor.” she huffed, grabbing a pair and holding them up to her daughter's waist, eyes squinting in assessment. then she shook her head and grabbed another. then another. ivory stood there, arms flopped at her sides, letting her mother go full mom-mode as she sized her up like a store mannequin.

finally, after the fourth switch, jennie shoved a pair into her daughter's arms. "here. they should fit. but if they don’t, i don’t wanna hear it."

“you will hear it.”

jennie narrowed her eyes, a response already on the tip of her tongue. “and you will go to bed cold.” 

ivory just snorted, already walking towards her mother’s bathroom. "this is why i like dior."

jennie just threw a balled-up sock at her head.

“why do you have six different light switches and not one of them is for the actual bathroom?” jane’s voice echoed off the bathroom tiles, followed by a series of random clicks as she desperately tried to figure out which switch did what. the hallway light flicked on, then off. the closet light blinked twice. the fan whirred to life, then immediately stopped.

jennie sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “it’s the second one from the left.”

a pause. more clicking.

“the other left.”

ivory groaned, but finally, the correct light turned on. "this is a design flaw," she muttered, stepping inside. her mother smirked a little, crossing her arms. “says the girl who can’t even figure out a light switch but somehow thinks she’s too good for chanel pajamas.”

the sound of running water was the only response she got.

jennie shook her head with a quiet chuckle, turning back toward her own room. she barely had a second of peace before ivory’s voice rang out again.

“wait, why is your shower so complicated?”

her mother let out an exasperated sigh, already making her way back to the bathroom like she had a toddler instead of an eighteen-year-old. “what are you talking about?”

“there are, like, four knobs in here.”

the older woman rolled her eyes lightly, leaning against the wall with her back while she listened to her daughter on the other side. “the left one is temperature, the right one is the pressure.”

“this seems unsafe. and very overcomplicated. is this what you do with your money?” 

jennie only smirked a little and pushed off the wall to leave her bedroom. “i’ll be downstairs for your official height measuring when you’re done.” she called out before leaving.

ivory finished rinsing off quickly, still grumbling to herself as she fumbled with the knobs again, making sure she wasn’t going to drown herself in another surprise burst of cold water. she stayed there for a little while, just allowing herself to exist under the warm water before she began cleaning herself off. with a final sigh of relief, she turned the water off, stepping out of the shower and wrapping herself in one of her mother’s oversized towels. she quickly dressed in the set of clothes her mother had given her, leaving her hair damp but feeling surprisingly refreshed.

she stepped out of the bathroom and toward the stairs when she heard a soft whimper, followed by the familiar sound of paws skittering across the floor.

ivory froze mid-step.

kuma.

she hadn’t seen the fluffy dog in ages. the brown pomeranian, now a little sluggish and slower in his movements, was sitting at the top of his mother’s bed. 

“hi kuma,” jane whispered softly, rubbing his ears and kissing his forehead lightly. he was her dog before he was her mother’s. she stayed there for a few moments, her hand gently resting on kuma’s soft fur as he snuggled into her touch. he tilted his head up toward her, his eyes blinking sleepily, recognizing her scent almost immediately—drenched in the fresh, lingering smell of her mother’s shower products, but still unmistakably her. his tail wagged slowly, a tired but unmistakable recognition flashing through his eyes.

“good boy,” ivory whispered softly, her voice low and warm as she ran her fingers through his thick, soft fur. she could feel the slight tremor in his old body as he nuzzled into her, seeking comfort. and she couldn’t help but smile at the affection in his eyes. she stayed by his side, sitting down gently beside him, leaning her back against the bed. a quiet sigh escaped her lips as she stroked kuma’s fur, and within minutes, the little pomeranian’s eyelids fluttered closed. his breathing slowed, the gentle rise and fall of his chest indicating that he had finally drifted back into sleep. ivory smiled softly, her heart tugging a little. 

there was something profound about the way kuma trusted her so easily, like no time had passed at all. she always loved that about him.

after a while, the young girl stood up slowly, carefully moving the small dog back down on the bed where he curled up in a tiny, warm ball. she kissed the top of his head one last time before quietly heading downstairs.

when she reached the bottom of the stairs, she hesitated for a moment, unsure if her mother was still in the kitchen. but as she turned the corner into the living room, she found her sitting on the couch on her laptop. jennie looked up as ivory entered, but it was in a way that made the younger girl pause.

for just a second, jennie looked at her daughter with something in her eyes that ivory couldn’t quite place. it was an expression that made her chest feel tight, but not in a bad way. jennie didn’t say anything at first, but her gaze softened as she took in her daughter standing in the doorway, a faint smile playing at her lips.

and in that moment, it was almost like looking into a mirror. 

jennie saw the same eyes, the same nose, the same smile that had once been so familiar to her. it was a bit surreal, how much ivory looked like her. but there was something else too, something she hadn’t realized until now: how she looked almost nothing like him. 

almost.

ivory still had his same moles, his same aura of quiet confidence, the kind that settled into a room rather than demanded attention. it was subtle, but jennie saw it now, the faintest remnants of him woven into her daughter’s features like threads she’d tried so hard to ignore. it was in the way ivory held herself, in the way she tilted her chin ever so slightly when she was thinking, in the way her eyes flickered with a sharpness that felt both foreign and familiar.

jennie hated it.

not because she hated her—never her—but because it reminded her of a past she had long since buried, one she had clawed her way out of only to be faced with it again in the form of her daughter. a daughter who had grown up without her. a daughter she could never fully claim as just hers, no matter how much she wanted to.

she exhaled, forcing the thoughts away before they could take root.

"you look just like me, you know," jennie murmured, her voice softer than usual, almost like she hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

ivory blinked, caught off guard by the comment. she hadn’t expected that. it wasn’t the first time she’d heard it—plenty of people had told her before. but somehow, hearing it from her mother, in this quiet moment, felt different.

“i’ve been told,” she said after a beat, her tone light, almost indifferent, like she was brushing it off. but the slight twitch in her fingers, the way her gaze flickered down for just a second before meeting jennie’s again—it gave her away. she wasn’t brushing it off. she was absorbing it, tucking the words somewhere deep where they wouldn’t easily be forgotten.

“can you measure me now so i can sleep?” the taller girl interrupted quietly, eager to not be stared at like an exhibit. jennie retrieved the tape measure from the counter, her fingers fidgeting with it nervously. 

wordlessly, jennie stepped closer, the tape measure unspooling in her hands with a faint whisper of fabric against metal. ivory stood still, shoulders slightly tense, as her mother reached up to press the edge of the tape against the top of her head.

"stand straight," jennie murmured, her voice quieter now, more focused.

"i am standing straight," ivory mumbled, though she subtly adjusted her posture, lifting her chin just a little.

jennie smirked, shaking her head, but didn’t say anything. instead, she placed a hand lightly on the top of her daughter's head to keep the tape steady. her touch was gentle but firm, like she was grounding ivory in place—not just physically, but in a way that neither of them could quite name.

for a moment, the only sound was the faint scratch of the measuring tape sliding between jennie’s fingers. ivory’s eyes darted away, suddenly hyper-aware of how close they were, how her mother’s gaze flickered between the tape and her face, studying her like she was something fragile.

“let’s see,” jennie said aloud, adjusting the tape slightly, before raising her eyebrows. “165 centimeters. so, you’ve got a whole two centimeters on me.”

her daughter’s lips twitched in a small, teasing smile. “good.” her mother stepped back, the tension between them lifting just a little. "you’ve grown," she murmured, her voice unexpectedly tender.

ivory didn’t respond right away, a slight discomfort settling in her chest. she could feel her mother’s eyes on her, studying her, and it was both too much and not enough. there were so many things she wanted to say, but she wasn’t sure how to begin.

all she did know was that she didn't want to deal with it right now. 

"well, i'm done now. can i go to bed?" ivory decided on, her tone a little more blunt than necessary. jennie smiled softly, though there was a touch of wistfulness in her gaze. "of course. 

“um,” the younger girl cleared her throat awkwardly. “where am i sleeping?” 

ever since her mother moved houses, she never thought she’d have the opportunity to stay over at jennie’s new house. let alone even have a space in it.

ivory had never really thought about it before—where she would sleep if she ever ended up here. it just never seemed like an option, like something she was supposed to consider. her mother had moved into this house long after they stopped living together, after things had settled into the rhythm of separate lives. and for some reason, ivory had just assumed there wouldn’t be a place for her here.

jennie’s expression shifted, something knowing flickering behind her eyes. she stood up from the couch, smoothing down her sweatshirt, and motioned for ivory to follow. “come on,” she said simply.

ivory hesitated for a second before trailing after her mother through the hallway. the house was quiet, the kind of late-night stillness that made everything feel heavier, like every sound or movement carried more weight.

jennie stopped in front of a door near the end of the hall, resting her hand on the doorknob. for a second, she just looked at it, exhaling softly before turning back to her daughter.

"you'll be in here."

the moment ivory stepped inside, and her breath caught in her throat. the room wasn’t just any guest room. 

it was hers.

she could tell immediately from the color scheme to the little personal touches that screamed familiarity. the bookshelf was stocked with books she had loved as a child, some she had long since forgotten. a plush couch sat by the window, draped with the blanket she used to carry around when she was younger. even the vanity had her favorite candle positioned neatly next to a few boxes of her favorite skincare brands, as if someone had been waiting for her to use them.

slowly, the taller girl turned around to face her mother. “you kept a room for me?”

jennie leaned against the doorway, her expression unreadable for a second before softening. “always.”

jane’s throat tightened, a maelstrom of emotions warring inside her. “but you had that rule,” she whispered, referencing the rule jennie had set when she was younger—the rule that said she couldn’t stay with her overnight, that she had to return to jieun’s house no matter what.

jennie nodded, stepping closer. “i did. and i hated it every single day. but just because i couldn’t have you here physically didn’t mean i wasn’t hoping for the day you’d walk through that door.” she paused, eyes flickering around the room before settling back on her daughter. “so i kept it ready for you. in case you ever needed to come home.”

home.

it wasn’t a word ivory had ever associated with this house. not even once. but now, standing in the doorway of this room—her room—she couldn’t deny the way the air shifted around her, settling heavy in her chest, thick with something unspoken.

her fingers curled slightly at her sides, nails pressing into her palms as she took another step into the room. it felt untouched yet lived-in, like time had been waiting for her to fill the space. she traced the edge of the desk, eyes catching on the faint scratches along the wood—marks left behind by restless hands, old notebooks, or maybe nothing at all. but it felt like hers. it felt kept.

jennie watched her quietly, her presence lingering near the door but not intruding. she had always been like this, even when ivory was little—close enough to catch her if she fell but never forcing her to take the step.

ivory turned back, gripping the hem of her sweater between her fingers. “why?” her voice wasn’t accusatory, just quiet. curious.

her mother’s lips parted slightly before she exhaled, her gaze flickering to the bookshelf, to the neatly folded blanket, to the little things she had never been able to let go of. “because you were always supposed to have a place here,” she said finally. “even when i couldn’t have you the way i wanted.”

the admission sat heavy between them, unspoken things threading through the spaces in jennie’s voice.

ivory swallowed, her throat dry. the years between them stretched long, filled with days where she had wondered, did she even want me there? she had told herself she was fine without the answer. she had convinced herself it didn’t matter.

but it did.

she shifted, glancing toward the bed. the comforter was tucked in the way she liked—smooth, precise, but not too stiff—just the way she used to fix it when she was younger. the pillows were fluffed to the perfect degree of overstuffed, the kind she could sink into after a long day. it was almost unsettling how well her mother had remembered the details, how effortlessly she had preserved something ivory didn’t even know still existed.

her gaze flickered toward the couch, where a familiar blanket lay draped over the armrest. the second she picked it up, her fingers brushing against the worn fabric, the scent hit her—something warm, something familiar. a mix of faint detergent, a trace of something floral, and a whisper of her past itself. it smelled like childhood. like late nights curled up on the couch, like small hands gripping the edges while she fought off sleep waiting for her mother to come home late at night.

her chest ached. a slow, creeping kind of feeling that settled in her ribs, spreading through her like a quiet realization she wasn’t quite ready to name.

jennie must have noticed the shift in her expression because she took a careful step forward, her voice softer than before. “valentine—”

“i’m tired,” the younger girl murmured, cutting her off. the words weren’t sharp, but they left no room for anything more. not tonight.

jennie stilled, eyes lingering on her as if she wanted to say something else. to explain. to reach out. but she didn’t. instead, she nodded, stepping back with quiet understanding.

“alright,” she said gently. “get some rest.”

ivory didn’t watch her leave, didn’t wait for the door to click shut before she sat down on the bed, the blanket still clutched in her hands. the room felt heavy—not suffocating, but full. full of things unsaid, full of time lost and time kept, full of something that made her throat tighten and her fingers grip the fabric just a little harder.

she wasn’t sure what to do with all of this; the room, the words, the weight in her chest.

but for the first time in her life, home didn’t feel like a foreign concept.

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CLOSED.

[hy6erion]

I have an idea for a bbno$ one shot ! maybe reader could be meeting him during a game convention or a music festival being a bit oblivious about who he his and just hanging out with him at an after party where they can get closer 😉

𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲 𝐢𝐭 𝐂𝐨𝐨𝐥

𝐁𝐛𝐧𝐨$ (𝐀𝐥𝐞𝐱 𝐆𝐮𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐚𝐧) 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

✰⍣..𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐚 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐭 𝐚 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐢𝐭- 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐨𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐚 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐳𝐞 𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫.

𝐚/𝐧: 𝐢 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐫.

The convention floor buzzed with life—neon lights flickering, game soundtracks overlapping in a chaotic symphony and bursts of laughter from groups crowded around different booths. The air smelled like a mix of energy drinks, popcorn, and the faint whiff of sweat from people who had probably been in the same spot grinding out a game demo for hours.

You navigated through the crowd, adjusting the strap of your bag, which was already stuffed with free merch and an unnecessary number of stickers you’d impulsively picked up. It was your first time at this gaming convention, and while you’d planned to check out a few panels, the main goal was just to soak in the atmosphere. The venue was massive, and you’d already gotten lost twice trying to find the indie game showcase area.

That’s when you nearly walked straight into someone.

“Oh—my bad,” you said, stepping back quickly before you could full-on crash into them.

“No worries, I wasn’t looking either.”

The guy in front of you grinned easily, adjusting the round sunglasses perched on his nose—indoors, for some reason. His outfit—a loose-fitting graphic tee, baggy pants, sneakers that looked both expensive and effortlessly cool—gave off an effortlessly stylish but laid-back vibe. He had the air of someone who either belonged here or was too famous to care.

You went to step around him, expecting the usual awkward shuffle when two people try to pass each other at the same time, but he mirrored your movement. You both paused.

“Alright,” he mused, tilting his head with a smirk, “we can do this the easy way or the fun way.”

You let out a short laugh, stepping aside again. “Let’s go with easy. I get the feeling you’d win if we started dancing.”

“You never know,” he said, sliding his hands into his pockets. “You here for the whole weekend?”

There was something about the way he casually started a conversation—like he half-expected you to recognize him. He did seem familiar, but you couldn’t quite place him. Maybe a streamer? A YouTuber? Someone who had one of those faces that made you second-guess yourself?

“Yeah, first time here. Figured I’d check it out.”

“Good choice,” he said, nodding like you’d just made a life-altering decision. “I’ve been to a few of these, but this one’s got solid energy. You play?”

“A little. More casual, though.”

“Same,” he admitted, then leaned in slightly, lowering his voice like he was sharing a secret. “Terrible at competitive stuff, but I like pretending I know what I’m doing.”

That made you laugh. “That’s half the fun.”

He grinned. “Exactly.”

Somehow, the conversation didn’t stop there. Instead of walking off in different directions, you ended up drifting through the convention together, bouncing from booth to booth. You competed in a chaotic rhythm game that neither of you were particularly good at, browsed through an artist alley where he playfully tried to convince you to buy the most ridiculous prints, and stopped for overpriced snacks.

“Alright, serious question,” he said, tapping his fingers against the table while you both waited for your drinks. “If you could only play one game for the rest of your life, what would it be?”

“Oh, that’s evil,” you groaned, pretending to think hard about it. “Probably something open-world. I need options.”

“Solid choice,” he said, nodding approvingly. “I respect that. Now, if you say something cursed like Flappy Bird, we’re gonna have to fight.”

You snorted. “I feel like you’ve got some deep, unresolved trauma with Flappy Bird.”

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” he said dramatically, shaking his head.

The conversation was effortless, laced with teasing and playful banter. It was easy, and despite how chaotic the convention was, you barely noticed time passing.

When evening rolled around, he glanced at his phone and then at you. “There’s an after-party happening nearby. You should come.”

You hesitated. “I don’t know… I don’t really know anyone here.”

“Well, now you know me,” he said simply, flashing a charming grin. “And I’m excellent company.”

You eyed him. “Bold claim.”

“Not a claim,” he shot back. “A fact.”

Something about the way he said it—so effortlessly confident—made you cave.

—

The after-party was at a sleek lounge not far from the convention center. Despite the upscale setting, the atmosphere was relaxed, neon lights washing everything in soft blues and purples. A DJ was already spinning a set, a few people dancing in the middle of the floor while others gathered in booths and along the bar.

Alex had introduced you to a few people—some industry folks, a couple of musicians, even a streamer you vaguely recognized—but he never strayed too far from your side.

At some point, the two of you ended up outside on the balcony, leaning against the railing. The night air was cooler out here, crisp and refreshing against your skin. Below, the city stretched out, lights flickering in the distance.

“Alright,” you said, crossing your arms with a teasing look. “You seem way too comfortable in a setting like this. Either you’re a social butterfly, or you’ve got a secret identity.”

He smirked. “What, you think I’m a spy?”

“I don’t know, Alex,” you mused playfully. “You’ve got the sunglasses. That’s suspicious behavior.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Nah, I do music.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Like… producing?”

“No. Rapping.” He watched your reaction closely.

You blinked. “Wait, for real?”

“You really don’t know who I am, huh?”

You shrugged. “Should I?”

Instead of looking annoyed, he grinned wider. “Damn. That’s kind of refreshing.”

“Now you’re making me feel bad,” you said, laughing. “Like, should I be googling you right now?”

“Only if you wanna ruin the mystery,” he teased, taking a slow sip of his drink. “But nah, I like this. You’re not treating me any different. Usually, people either try too hard or get weird about it.”

You considered that for a moment before smirking. “I mean, I can start acting weird if you want.”

“Oh? What would that look like?”

You dramatically widened your eyes. “Oh my god. Alex. I can’t believe it’s you.” You grabbed his arm. “I need a selfie. Autograph my forehead. Oh my god, I’m literally shaking.”

He cracked up, tilting his head at you. “Okay, that was alarmingly good. Kinda scary.”

“I try.” You took a sip of your drink, meeting his gaze over the rim of the glass. “But in all seriousness, you’re fun to be around. Even if you’re secretly famous.”

He shot you a finger gun. “That’s what I like to hear.”

The conversation stretched on, the playful flirting escalating. At one point, he leaned in a little closer, voice lower, smoother.

“You know,” he mused, tilting his head, “I might need to kidnap you for all my future events. You’re making this way too fun.”

“Oh?” You raised an eyebrow. “And what’s in it for me?”

He smirked. “Well, obviously, you get my stellar company. That’s a once-in-a-lifetime deal, you know.”

You laughed. “Wow. So generous.”

“Exactly,” he said, nudging you lightly. “So what do you say? Stick around a little longer? I feel like I haven’t properly impressed you yet.”

You met his gaze, considering it for a moment before smirking. “Alright, Alex. Let’s see what else you got.”

And just like that, the night was far from over.

[halliejaade]

Edelweiss (Chapter 7.5)

The timeline between TFAWTS and CABNW is being shortened for the sake of Edelweiss. Also, this isn't a full chapter, just a bit of a snippet of going into the plot of CABNW. (Sorry Joaquín isn't really in this, just trying to get the bridge between the two built so that we can go at the plot full force!)

After a prolonged vacation in Miami, you're almost relieved to finally go back to some semblance of normalcy in New York.

You hadn't mentioned anything the doctor told you to your parents. Maybe you should have. Maybe you should have confronted them about it, just to see if they'd squirm. If they'd confirm everything that you hoped was false.

You stopped taking the pills, just to see if anything would happen. So far, nothing. Your headaches did get more intense, but nothing was out of the ordinary.

That doctor didn't have a clue of what she was talking about.

It made you feel better; you didn't like lying to Joaquín. At least now, it was for a good reason. He wouldn't have to unnecessarily worry about something that didn't even exist.

You did, however, keep a notebook, where you took notes of your dreams. Just in case.

There was an uncanny resemblance in all of the dreams.

The little girl. The older boy, who always disappeared after a certain point. The burning house. A man that called himself Doctor Sterns.

Your dreams never strayed from those topics.

Although convinced that the doctor was wrong, there was no harm in doing some research.

Your laptop balances precariously in one hand, a can of diet Pepsi in the other as you navigate your apartment. It was the perfect size, a one bedroom apartment on the 25th floor of an apartment building. The perfect spot for a girl in her mid-twenties.

Although, sometimes you felt as though you had a roommate.

Grace sits on the edge of the couch, painting her nails bright pink as she watches the television intently. She doesn't glance away from the screen, somehow managing to get the nail polish only on her nails, until the dog stands abruptly and knocks into the coffee table.

Oh yeah, and you'd gotten a dog.

After arriving back from Miami, you went almost directly to the pound and found an older mutt. You knew that you needed her just as much as she needed you.

Just a couple of strays looking for a place in this big world.

"Wendy," You laugh softly. "Come here."

You place your laptop on the coffee table before settling down on the couch. Wendy trots over, (yes, trots, she's nearly as big as a horse), and curls up at your feet.

Grace shakes her head at the tv. "I've never liked him."

You glance at the screen, where newly elected President Ross gives his speech. "I'm not a fan either."

Familiar.

Your breath catches in your throat. It wasn't so much a voice as it was a thought. You wait, holding your breath to see if it happens again.

When silence greets you, you take a deep breath. You needed better sleep.

A search on your computer for Samuel Sterns brings up hundreds of News Articles. Mostly, you see things about the Hulk. You see things about an arrest being made.

Okay, you think. You must've seen his name in a news article of some sort and your brain came up with those silly dreams.

A clip of him on YouTube catches your eye.

'Professor Sterns, Grayburn College."

You glance at your notes, and that's written there, too.

A quick search tells you that Grayburn is in Harlem, which isn't far. Maybe you'd go there tomorrow, talk to some people, try to figure out who exactly Samuel Sterns was before he was arrested.

Danger.

"Y/n, are you okay?" Grace asks, placing her hand against your arm. Her fingertips feel like fire, the smell of her nail polish overtaking your senses. The feeling builds, your heart pounding steadily until...

Grace shouts suddenly, wrenching her hand away from you as she stumbles from the couch.

"Grace!"

Everything looks so sharp, like you're wearing someone's prescription glasses over already perfect vision.

"I-I can't see," She stammers, trembling as she reaches out in the direction she thinks you're in. You grab her hand, your vision going back to normal in such a quick amount of time that it throws you off balance.

Grace looks up at you, "I'm so sorry. I don't know what just happened there, but I couldn't see for a moment."

You have a funny feeling you know why.

"You probably need some iron supplements," You try to joke.

"Yeah, maybe," She shrugs, uneasy laughter filling the quiet space as she stands.

Sorry, that voice says, I forgot what it was like to be awake. I didn't mean to take away her sight.

Dread shivers through your bones.

Don't be afraid, Y/n. I saved your life, remember?

[https-rediation]

so do we remember Agent Phoenix's driver's license that briefly appeared in IEYTD 3 for the Blind Spot mission?

no? well here it is

I made an attempt to decode it 👍

At first glace this may seem fruitless, but if you zoom in on the blacked-out text you can still see the general shapes of each letter slightly above the border, and it's not all gibberish! You can quite easily see "Agent Phoenix" at the top so the rest of it is likely not nonsense either

This is what I found

(I did this project multiple months ago, really almost a year at this point, so I'll try to explain my process as best I could now) (Also disclaimer I don't claim any of this to be purely and exactly canon, this is just what I deciphered)

As you can see most of the information is filled in with letters I copied directly from different areas of the license in order to ensure the font matched up underneath. Slightly above where the photo would be I mapped out the general shape of each letter to narrow down my options as I went letter by letter.

Generally, they followed the same basic shapes

Numbers:

1 - Pointed at the top, flat at the bottom

2 - Round at the top, flat at the bottom

3, 6, 8, 9, and 0 - Round at the top and bottom

4 - Small ridge at the top, stick at the bottom

5 - Flat at the top, round at the bottom

7 - Flat at the top, stick at the bottom

Letters:

A - Small ridge at the top, two prongs at the bottom

B and D - Flat and then curved at the top and bottom

C, G, and O - Round at the top and bottom

E and I - Flat at the top and bottom

F - Flat at the top, stick at the bottom

H, M, N, W, and X - Two prongs at the top and bottom

I think you get the gist of it, it was a very long process.

I'll explain my findings as I went down the card. Agent Phoenix is pretty self-explanatory. You're able to see the small flat top of the A, a portion of the t, and the flat-then-curved top of the P, it wasn't hard to deduce the rest.

The address I didn't complete as it is a made up area after all and was highly difficult with the latter part of the 11-- both having a curved top (which indicated a 2, 3, 6, 8, 9, or 0, not very limiting). The first two were definitely 1's though as it is the only number which comes to a point at the top. (I'm pretty sure the street was Agency St. by the way which is funny)

New York, New York, was also generally easy to figure out from it's shape, and the zip code with 104-- places it somewhere in the Bronx area if I remember correctly

The Sex could only be one of two letters (M or F), and as it comes to two points at the top it's definitely an M

Hair and eye color I assume to both be Brown. The beginning letter starts flat and curves at the end, limiting the options to a B, D, P or R. Hair wise this could be Brown, Black, Blonde, or Red. The lowercase "l" and "d" that are present in every option but Brown would have been visible above the blacked-out line, as the uppercase letters are. You can see this to be true in the "h" and "i" in "Phoenix" and the "k" in "York". Eye color followed this same elimination rule.

Height was pretty easy as it was already generally limited to what was feasible. 4' would be on the short side, 6' on the tall, and 5' in the middle. With the number being flat on the top it was very easy to deduce that Phoenix was within the 5' range. The next number comes to a point, making it a 1, and the next after that is curved. Typically this would circle back to the 0, 3, 6, 8, and 9 problem, but when measuring someone's height the inches it only covers 1-11, and since we already know the first number is a 1, the only number the second one could be is a 0.

Weight starts off with a 1, followed by two curved numbers (yaaaaaay). Generally speaking based on Phoenix's height, 180 is the most reasonable number for them not to be over or underweight. The 3 in 183 is honestly just what I found fit best with the font, but that one really could be a 0, 3, 6, 8, or 9.

And finally the birthday! This was a fun one. Dec 25, 1935, who would have thought Phoenix was born on Christmas? With the DOB having to start with a month the capital letter was already limited to J, F, M, A, S, O, N, and D. When you look at it, it begins flat and progresses into a curve, so with the limitations set by the months we get a D. The actual day can only have it's first number be a 0-3 and its second a 0-9 since there are 01-31 days in the month. The curved top of the first number leaves 2-3, but the flat top of the second number indicates a 5 or 7, neither of which can pair up with the 3 (as there is no 35 or 37 of a month) making the first number 2 by default. Since the bottom of the number isn't visible, when lined up the 5 is what fit the best in comparison to 7.

The year has to be 19--, the games are in the 1960s after all. The thirds number of the year has a curved top, which leaves 0 or 3. Unless Agent Phoenix was born in 190- and is in their 60s during the game, the third number has to be a 3. The fourth number is flat at the top (5 or 7), except this time you can actually see it's also curved at the bottom, making it a 5.

When you put this all together you find that Agent Phoenix lives in New York (no surprises there), has brown eyes and hair, is 5'10", 183lbs, and was 30 years old during the events of the first game (1966), born on December 25, 1935.

I wrote this at near-midnight so I apologize for any grammatical errors and general nonsensicalness as I attempted to put this together My brain doesn't want to form comprehensible words at this time of night so I'll likely review this more extensively later, just wanted to share my findings with anyone who might find them intriguing.

Again, I don't claim that all of this is inherently canon, it was just me attempting to decode this for fun

[aro-culture-is]

Hi i have a question. Is there a time when labeling yourself aro isn't valid? Once I saw someone say that to label one's self as aro out of conscious choice or convenience is wrong.

I ask because I'm afraid that I too am probably using the label for the purpose of dodging romance. I mean I saw no reason to label myself aromantic before, because I thought that people would, by default, not choose me as a romantic partner. I never thought of myself that way and I assumed that everyone else will follow suit. Only now, that I am directly exposed to romance, did I ever use the term aromantic to describe myself.

So this is how I got the idea to label myself aromantic. I don't want to be in a romantic relationship, but I didn't want to let my best friend down, but two weeks into it I realized that I didn't like the rules or norms of romance. It made me feel like an alien in my own skin. And then I thought, I am probably aro, and I did come out as Aro, which my best friend/romantic partner took with extreme doubt and constantly questioned me like this: "are you sure you're aro? We're in a romantic relationship now. Are you still Aro?" and I felt sort of pressured, and there I began thinking that I might be faking it?

I feel like I only said I'm Aro because I didn't like how romance works. I didn't know what I was getting into before agreeing.

Then one day I come across a post that says that you can't just say you're aro if you're saying it out of convenience, which I might have done, because I don't know how to exactly tell my best friend that our romantic relationship feels like lead in my veins. So I said, I'm aromantic.

I think I'm running around in circles here I'm so sorry. In short, I got into a romantic relationship, hated everything about it, and then labeled myself Aro in hopes to make people understand why I dislike romantic things when I'm directly involved. Is that... Invalid? And what other ways could someone be misusing the term to the detriment of the community?

Thank you for accommodating my strange ask :)

honestly, the way that you came to that conclusion - that a romantic relationship that you were/are in felt like lead in your veins - is actually... a really common way people start to realize they are actually aro? and if you hate romance when it's directed at you, that's... also a pretty common path to realizing you're aro?

for the life of me, I've never seen someone who is aromantic ever say that you can call yourself aromantic in bad faith, but I've seen a LOT of people who think all aro people are invalid/predatory/etc say that. I generally assume bad faith, because every aro person I've ever met has agreed that coming out as aro doesn't mean shit to the people that it's supposedly being shitty to in that way anyways. they neither are familiar with it, nor believe in it, and I've never personally heard a single story yet that didn't turn out to literally be like. a queerphobe, transphobe, and/or aphobe sockpuppet.

so. no. i don't think there's a time when labeling yourself aro is invalid, and in your circumstances, I think if anything, I'd strongly advise you to interact more with aro experiences and trust yourself over what others say or want you to feel. a great resource for learning more about our community is linked here:

[writingdevil]

Hello! Thank you for responding to my previous ask so quickly, I was the anon who asked if repeat ships are okay!

I would love to see more of Skeptic x Opportunist from you, if you are open to that! I really, really like how you wrote it last time, I think you captured dynamic so well!!! And so I wanted to request it again <3

[I will also take this space to say again that your writing is amazing, and I am very much inspired by it! Thanks for doing what you do <3]

(AAAH HI EVEREST!!! You're so sweet! I'm glad you like how I wrote them, because I wasn't sure if I would get them right, but I'm glad to hear otherwise! Thank you for liking my writing, and it's insane to hear that you're even inspired by it, and even more so to see it-it's so crazy to hear coming from someone who's such a talented artist like you! I've fallen even more in love with Skeptunist because of you, so I really hope you enjoy this one!)

(Warning-Suicidal thoughts and attempted suicide)

Opportunist never liked to let his guard down around others, especially in front of the ones who didn't trust him even when he was trying to play nice. He refused to stop the performance.

But there was one place that Opportunist could put the mask away for-his bedroom.

The sound of his footsteps felt muffled in his own ears as he quickly walked up his door, keeping his shaking hands firmly clasped behind his back. He didn't know why he did it. It just made him feel like he had some sort of control right now.

The tears were already pooling in his eyes as he opened the door, and a shuddering breath was forced out of him, and he hoped that the slamming of his door covered up the pathetic noise.

The instant he was in his room, in his 'safe' space, was when his paper thin walls crumbled, and Opportunist could do nothing but shake and freeze and breathe heavily on the spot, eyes wide and unblinking as tears streamed down his face.

Worthless.

He was worthless.

He feared that if he moved then something even worse would happen to him, and he wouldn't know how to deal with that, so he just forced himself to remain as still as possible, only letting small, hushed whimpers escape his mouth.

How can something that came from a God turn out so unsatisfactory? Why can't Opportunist make himself fit in like the others can? Why wasn't he enough?

Everyday, he wakes up and he tries. He looks at who he wants to deal with, and he tries to match their energy, to get them to like the version that he's putting out-so then Opportunist knows how to talk to them in the future, so that he'll actually feel part of the flock for once.

But nobody trusts him.

So nobody bothers with him.

They don't match his smiles, or entertain his ideas like they used to. It's hard for a performer to act with no music, and that's exactly how Opportunist felt when he tries to socialise with the others nowadays.

He fumbles on stage. He doesn't know his lines. The lights are suddenly too bright for him, and he runs off stage.

It used to be so easy to have the others wrapped around his finger, to play a part, to try and get what he wants. It used to be easy to know who to befriend, who would give him the most power and safety-but that's not the case anymore.

His feet finally moved when he feared his crying was becoming louder, and he stiffly walked further into his room, a room that was so bland, so full of nothing that it made him sick.

He couldn't use his normal tricks anymore because He's not here. No, He had decided to go off with the Shifting Mound, and leave the rest of them to fend for themselves as if they meant nothing to Him, as if everything they tried to do to keep him alive meant nothing to Him.

Even if He didn't see the point, the voices always had a chance to take control and do what needed to be done. Paranoid did it. Skeptic did it. Opportunist also did it, but for some reason, it was horrific and appalling when he did it. Why? Why was everything bad when Opportunist suddenly did it? Why did nobody see how he saw things?

He knows that he played a little dirty in some cases, but it was all for the sake of survival, because what was the alternative? Letting her get the upper hand? No, Opportunist would've done anything if it meant keeping Him alive-

-even if it meant everyone now hates his guts, he guessed.

The sound of his own snivelling angered him. He wanted to yell and curse and plot all at the same time, but his head was bursting with too many painful emotions and memories to even think about his next move. He just couldn't take playing the game anymore.

He sucked in a sharp breath, wondering for a brief, embarrassing minute, if this was the first time Opportunist allowed himself to cry. How pathetic would that be?

Nobody trusts him anymore because the big guy left them, so they could all see through Opportunist's tricks all the more clearly now. They could guess what Opportunist wanted when he smiled at them, or complimented them-and they wanted no part of him anymore, because why would they need a backstabber in their supposed time of peace?

They didn't, which meant that they didn't need him anymore.

His crying calmed down now, but his face was still hot and damp, and he was left panting heavily, right on the edge of a panic attack, as he stared at nothing, his mind still whirling with dark thoughts.

The flock hated him. The flock hated him. The flock wanted him gone.

His eyes moved to his pillow.

It was only a matter of time until they couldn't take much more of him anymore, until all his tricks at getting the others to like him proved too much to bear, and they kicked him out.

After all, they weren't trapped in a single body anymore, so there wasn't a need to keep everyone around-and Opportunist was the obvious first choice to go.

He took an unsteady step forward, his body still wracked with fearful, pitiful emotions, and he reached a hand out towards his pillow, gripping the soft cushion tightly, before throwing it across the room.

A knife.

He didn't feel safe at night without a knife under his pillow, to the point where he couldn't even sleep without one. What if one of the others like Cold or Cheated decided to just get rid of him in the night? He refused to take that risk, so he slept armed.

He stared at the knife for a few minutes, finding himself actually calming down at the sight of it. Maybe that was a sign that he was too far gone for the flock's liking. Maybe he was just a relentless backstabber.

He didn't even realise that he had been reaching out for the knife, until his fingers wrapped around the hilt. His breathing started to pick up again, and tears pricked the corner of his eyes once more.

He lifted the knife.

His grip was shaky, unstable, and soon his vision blurred as tears streamed down his face again, and his body shook with the force of his sobs.

Weak. Pitiful. Useless.

Evil evil evil-

Opportunist tried so hard, but it was never good enough. He was never good enough. He didn't trust the others enough and he wasn't trustworthy. They had their beliefs and Opportunist had his lies. They were loved by Him, and Opportunist wasn't.

His brain felt like it was drowning, and he couldn't look away from the knife.

In the far distance, he thought he heard a sound.

But everything he did was for Him and the flock. Could they not see that? Could nobody see what he was trying to do? He loves them all so much, and sometimes love made him do things that the others wouldn't agree with.

Lie, trick, act-who cares, so long as they didn't die in that awful cabin.

But there wasn't a princess in a cabin anymore, but Opportunist still has his mask, because that's all he knows. That's all he was born for-to be opportunistic.

His heart ached, too tired and lonely to keep going anymore. He thought he heard a voice calling out for him.

The flock hated him. The flock couldn't stand him, and there was nothing he could do to change their minds, not this time. So where does that leave him?

The knife felt too heavy in his hand. Another sound, louder this time, almost worried even.

Opportunist was all alone. It was either him or them. He could attack them, threaten them, make them keep him, but then he'd spend every waking moment looking over his shoulder.

He slowly started to move the knife.

Or maybe-maybe it would be easier to remove him from the problem, if he was so detestable. That-That would satisfy both sides, would it not? The flock would be free of him, and Opportunist could finally relax for once in his worthless life. Then everyone's happy. Then they'll finally like Opportunist.

A sob was ripped out of him, and he couldn't see past his tears anymore.

It was either him or the flock, and he picked-

"Opportunist!"

A door suddenly opened, and Opportunist flinched, head snapping up and causing more tears to fall, but all he could focus on was Skeptic, who had walked into his room.

He saw the shock and horror on the other's face as Skeptic froze, staring at something in Opportunist's hands, and that was when Opportunist finally looked down.

The blade was pointed towards his heart.

So he picked the flock, huh?

"Oppy," but then there was Skeptic's soft voice, and that was when it hit him that Skeptic was in the room with him.

Opportunist lifted his head, but his brain couldn't come up with anything to make all this go away. His eyes met Skeptic's, and he could tell that Skeptic was trying to piece together what was happening, even if it seemed obvious to Opportunist.

"Oppy," Skeptic repeated, taking a step into the room and softly closing the door behind him. Opportunist was too scared to move. "What's going on here?"

Opportunist opened his mouth, but no words came out, and he could taste the salt of his tears, which made him want to throw up. He's never been speechless before. He had no idea what to do right now, and that terrified him.

But Skeptic was patient, and never took his eyes off Opportunist, and there wasn't a hint of outrage or pity to be seen in Skeptic's eyes. Opportunist wasn't sure what way he was looking at him, but it gave him enough courage to try and speak.

"I-I-" Opportunist's voice sounded rough and weak in his own ears, and it almost sounded like a completely different person. "I-I'm just-taking care of a problem."

"What problem is that, exactly?" Skeptic asked quietly, taking another step forward, and Opportunist flinched away, his wings tucked in tightly against his back.

His throat burned with the need to cry again, and Opportunist hated how his body kept betraying him, letting another round of tears trail down his flushed face as his face crumpled up.

Skeptic tried to reach a hand out to him, but Opportunist suddenly let a choked sob out and exclaimed, "The problem is me!"

Skeptic flinched at the outburst, but Opportunist couldn't stop now. "I know you all hate me," he said lowly, the knife shaking in his grip, "I know that you all wish that I wasn't a part of the flock anymore, so I'm just taking one for the team." His face stretched into an empty, cruel smile. "How kind of me, right?"

There was a flash of shock in Skeptic's eyes, before he gave Opportunist a sympathetic look and softly said, "Oppy, none of us hate you-"

"Don't lie to me!" Opportunist shouted, and in doing so, moved the knife closer so that the tip was grazing the feathers on his chest.

Skeptic's eyes widened in panic, but he stopped at Opportunist's words.

Opportunist glared at the other, suddenly feeling a spark of anger, even though the only person he was mad at was himself. "You're the smartest bird around Skeptic, so don't stand there and tell me that you're not waiting for me to finally get the hint and fuck off out of your life, because we both know that's not true!"

He took a second to suck in some much needed air, feeling Skeptic's gaze on him like a burn on his body.

Skeptic just stared at him for what felt like an eternity, the heavy silence threatening to kill Opportunist before the knife did.

He had no idea what was running through Skeptic's mind, but when he couldn't take the silence anymore, he lowered his head to the ground, watching his tears hit the floor, and whispered, "It's okay if you hate me. I'd hate me too after the things I did."

Opportunist kept his head bowed, and then he was staring down at Skeptic's hands.

He stared in disbelief, not realising that Skeptic had gotten so close to him. Skeptic reached out and carefully wrapped his hands around the hilt of the knife, and gently pulled it away from Opportunist.

There was no resistance.

Skeptic sighed, and there was the dull clatter of the knife being thrown across the floor, far away from both of them.

Skeptic's hands found Opportunist's, and his grip was so soft that it made him weep quietly, because he's not sure if he's held hands with any one of them before.

"Oppy," came Skeptic's gentle yet gruff voice, "Can you look at me, please?"

He wanted to, but he was too scared of breaking down even more than he already has.

He felt Skeptic lean in closer, until he pressed his forehead against his, and despite the anguish in his heart, Opportunist's eyes fluttered shut as he released a sigh.

"Oppy," Skeptic whispered, "Nobody wants you to leave the flock. Nobody thinks that way about you." Opportunist shook his head as much as he could. "You're lying to me. I know how you all feel about me."

"Well, I can't speak for others, but I know how I feel about you, and it's absolutely not hatred." Opportunist tried to shake his head, but then he felt soft hands cup his face, wipe away his tears, and tilt his head up to look into Skeptic's warm eyes.

Opportunist felt a pull towards Skeptic, like it was the only thing he could do now that wouldn't go wrong-was look into Skeptic's eyes and listen to his voice.

"Opportunist, I think you're one of the sharpest and most cunning people I have ever met. You are constantly looking for ways to give yourself the advantage, and you know exactly how to do that with just a few words sometimes. I could never do that, and you have to believe it because you just said I'm the smartest bird around."

Opportunist let an empty chuckle out, but Skeptic still gave him a small smile at the sound. "So you like the fact that I can lie and trick the others? As flattered as I am, I think the rest of the flock would disagree with you."

It was Skeptic's turn to shake his head. "I don't think so." Opportunist sighed and tried to look away, but Skeptic kept a firm grip on his face, leaning in closer as he said, "Just because some of them don't agree with your methods absolutely does not mean that they hate you. In fact, if you had-" and then Skeptic paused, seemingly choking up in the middle of his sentence, and Opportunist was genuinely surprised to find Skeptic blinking away tears.

"-if you had done that to yourself-then I don't think there could be a big enough hole to fill the grief that we would feel at your loss, that I would feel." Then Opportunist was suddenly feeling too much at once, as Skeptic took in a shaky breath-his entire composure breaking at the thought of Opportunist not in his life anymore.

Opportunist stared up at Skeptic, not quite sure what he was feeling right now. "You'd miss me that much?" he whispered, because he could not wrap his dumb brain around what Skeptic was saying.

Skeptic huffed in amusement, then said, "Oppy, why do you think I'm here in the first place? I was worried about you."

That made Opportunist freeze up, leaning his head back slightly as he quietly went, "What?"

"I came in here to check on you, because I could tell that you've been upset all day. You were quieter than usual. Your smile wasn't reaching your eyes. I could just see that there was something weighing you down, and I wanted to see if you were okay."

Opportunist's head felt like it was going to explode. It felt like there were too many emotions that he wasn't equipped to handle, spinning around in his mind, and his heart was cracking open with such a scared softness for the other. He was terrified of being this vulnerable, but he was sick of pushing all those feelings away now.

"Really?" he whispered, and Skeptic smiled, and looked him right in the eye as he whispered back, "Nobody hates you, Oppy. We all love you."

That did it.

That was what sent Opportunist over the edge, making him break down crying, and Skeptic didn't hesitate to bring him into the tightest, safest hug that Opportunist has ever felt.

He shoved his face into Skeptic's chest, hiccuping at the feel of a hand cupping the back of his head gently. Skeptic pressed his face into the top of Opportunist's head and whispered, "It's okay, it's okay Oppy. I'm here, we're here for you. We love you. The flock loves you, mask or no mask."

Opportunist cried harder, his body shaking with the terror of everything that had just happened in this room, everything that had been revealed. He knew that he should be concerned with Skeptic knowing this much about him, about how much of him was fake, but he found that he didn't care right now.

It just felt nice to be loved.

"I love you too," he mumbled into Skeptic's chest, and his heart fluttered at how Skeptic squeezed him tighter. "I just want you all to accept me."

"We do, Oppy, we do," Skeptic whispered back.

Opportunist finally believed him.

[jheselbraum]

In light of recent discussions about how Fiddleford's forced editing of Ford's memories was toxic as shit, and how much Ford values autonomy and his mental integrity specifically, I want to highlight that scene in The Last Mabelcorn where Dipper nearly erases Ford's mind, believing he's possessed by and working with Bill, and Ford is just. Completely fine with that and understanding with Dipper afterwards. Granted, his mind cannot be erased at that point in his life, but that's an afterthought. Like in the span of thirty seconds Dipper nearly pushed the "bring ford's abuser to this plane of existence" button on top of violating ford's autonomy.

And yet Ford is just like "Oh yes that's a totally reasonable reaction Dipper let's go get sodas" after and I think that's really telling of like, how much Ford is willing to forgive if he can flip things around and see the situation from the other person's point of view.

Like, like he's fine with Dipper nearly erasing his mind because he did it in a self defense situation and Stanford is hyper aware of exactly what kind of damage Bill can do with a human body.

And that worked against him when it came to Bill and to a lesser extent Fiddleford. Because based on what Ford knew, Bill's many many red flags were the result of him being an ancient deity of wisdom or whatever the fuck and you know, he really did make up for the rats thing. Ford can understand having a genuine attempt at connection go horribly wrong and he can understand the detachment and loneliness that comes from that. Of course Dr. "I must meet the chef that made the atoms" fucking empathized with Mr. "Did you like the raaaattsss" of course he went from thinking the rats were a death threat to just explaining to Bill that his grasp on human customs was imprecise and taking him up on drinks and karaoke. What he can't fathom is why someone would want to violate another person's autonomy. Ford's paranoid as shit, he always has been, but he'd rather build a two story basement by himself than erase the memories of a construction crew. He can't understand why Fiddleford would want to essentially lobotomize himself or anyone else.

Ford can hold a grudge, sure, and it's very easy to get that to happen, but if what you're doing makes sense to him he's very lenient. Which is absolutely part of why he stuck with Bill for so long.

[jasperhaleobsessed]

Finding out Alec Volturi is your mate part 2

Alec Volturi x F!Swan!Reader

To say the least you were worried. After leaving the Volterra you couldn't stop shaking. That look on Aro's face made your stomach sick. All you wanted was for things to go back to normal.

You laid in your bed with your hands in your hair. Stressing wasn't going to help and yet you felt anxious.

You tried to distract yourself by reading. It wasn't guaranteed to calm you but you hoped it would help anyways. You got up and went over to your Bookshelf and picked out Pride and Prejudice. You were in a dire of something happy and predictable.

You laid in your bed, trying to get comfortable and you snuggled with your stuff animals for some comfort. You read the first sentence, "is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of good fortune must be in want of a wife." Ah, yes Elizabeth and Darcy, you always liked this story. You'd read the book before and seen the many iterations & adaptions. You were a hopeless romantic, you couldn't help but love this story.

You took a deep breath and continued to read before you knew it you had finished the first chapter. You flipped to the next page and read, "Bennett was among the earliest of those who waited on Mr. Bingley." You smiled to yourself as you felt a cold breeze around you. You sat down your book and placed your bookmark in. You sat your book to the side and went over to grab your warm sweater.

You felt a shiver go through your spine as you wrapped your sweater close to your body like a warm hug. You looked to your left and noticed the window was open. Weird. You thought you closed it before you left, perhaps your Dad opened it for some fresh air. The house did tend to get a bit stuffy now and then.

You went over to close it and snuggled down in your bed with your nose in a book. But, you couldn't shake the feeling that you were being watched. You got up again to look around.

You looked around your room. Nothing. "Just paranoid Y/N, take a deep breath." You tried to even your breathing and turned around towards your bed. You gasped at what you saw. Standing there was Alec. Before you could scream Alec covered your mouth and whispered, "Please don't scream, I'm not going to hurt you. I'm going to move my hand but do you promise to stay calm?"

When he moved his hand, you could help but ask, "What are you doing here? How? When?" You whispered. You tried to keep it down in case Charlie or Bella heard you. Bella wasn't exactly ecstatic about the while 'mate' thing whatever that meant. Nothing made any sense and you wished you had some answers. You could probably guess what it meant but everything that was happening overwhelming and confusing all you wanted was something stable, something normal, something safe.

You were starting to think going to Italy with Bella and Alice was a bad idea. You wanted to make sure Bella was safe and that she would be okay. As much as you were annoyed with certain aspects of Bella and Edwards relationship, he made her happy and lively. And it was hard seeing her so broken and you felt helpless seeing her like that. Which is why you went to make sure they made it out okay. The reason you went wasn't a bad idea, you knew that but that didn't change the fear you felt over everything.

He had a gentle smile playing on his lips and placed his index finger over your lip trying to calm your worry, "Shhh, it's okay love, I'm not going to hurt you, alright? I promise." He moved his finger away and placed his hands to his back. He seemed to do this out of respect for you, he understood you were confused and wanted answers therefore he did not want to make you more uncomfortable. He must have realized he should have thought of a better tactic than sneaking into room. That doesn't exactly scream 'I'm not gonna hurt you'

"I just wanted to see you, get to know you. And help you understand all of this. I'm sure your confused and scared but you have nothing to fear, I'd never hurt you."

"How do I know you won't? Your a vampire who feeds of human blood. Innocent people who've done nothing to you or anyone and yet they end up dead. And you say won't hurt me?" You argued.

"Because your my mate," He stated.

"What does that even mean?" You asked.

"It means that we're meant to be together. I know this is confusing but please, trust me."

"Ya think?" You looked away and let out a breath, "Bella's gonna kill me for this. I want to trust you, I do. Part of me wants to and is telling me I should but the other part of me can't."

He cupped your face, "Please," He pleaded with you.

"You know why I can't. We've just met, can't you understand why I can't?"

"I can, but that doesn't mean I don't want you to. I can understand why you don't, this is all new for you. Not only what happened in Italy but you've only recently found out about vampires, right?"

"Yes."

"I know your scared and I know you don't trust me but to trust me you have to let me in. Please give me a chance."

"Y/N dinner!" Charlie called for you. You turned away and yelled, "Coming Dad!" You turned back and he was gone. You sighed, "How am I supposed to trust someone who disappears?" You groaned, unsure of what the future held. But you knew one thing was for sure I'd either be really good or really bad.

Part 1

A/N: I think I'm gonna do a part 3, if anyone has any ideas of what I should do let me know! Feel free to spam my inbox if you have to I'm always interested in hearing your ideas. Not gonna lie I need help figuring out what I'm gonna do or how I'm gonna do it. Any advice please send it my way! Sorry, for taking forever for the 3rd part, I was meaning to but I was busy with asks when I posted the 1st part. I mean I still am but I really wanted to try to write a 2nd part. Also, this will be posted before the Jasper fic I'm working on since I posted the poll for this first. Requests are open so as always send it my way! Hope you all enjoy! <3

[converzhigh]

You can be my dad

John Price x Male! Reader

Genre: Fluff

Words: 2172

The man shot awake from his sleep and looked around the room with fear in his eyes. Everything was dark. He couldn't make out any figure in between the four walls. Only sorce of light was the window facing the woods behind base.

He stood up, the pale moonlight showing him his way to the door as he walked out of his room quietly inside the darkness. The hallway was cold, much colder than anyone would have expected it to be during a summer night.

He counted the doors until he found the one he was willing to get to. Captain Price's room. He pulled out his hand to knock but realized that the door was already slightly open. With a little hesitation, he pushed the door open and walked into the room.

He looked around. It was his first time being into Price's room. It pretty much smelled like him. Cheap cologne and cigarettes. Somehow, it gave the young soldier a feeling of comfort.

The room was tidied. Everything was in perfect place, and the bed was made?

"Captain?"

The man called out with a whisper before stopping and waiting for an answer. He walked to the small door that led to the room's private bathroom and put his ear in it to try and listen if someone was in there. Silence was all he heard.

He sight and turned around in order to go back to his room only to be faced with Captain Price himself with a towel in hand and his hair wet.

"Do you need anything, young man?"

Price spoke in a much softer tone than his usual. His voice alone was just enough to make the boy feel sleepy again.

"No, it's just that..."

Y/n started to speak as he fidgeted with his fingers and the bottom of his shirt. To Price's eyes, he pretty much looked like a child going to their parent's room to tell them they threw up in the middle of the night.

Price wouldn't mind hearing whatever excuse the boy had to tell him for being in his room at that hour. He had told his soldiers, especially the new commers and younger ones, that they could come to speak to him about anything bothering them.

To him, they were all family. They were all he had left. And that was what family did. They helped each other.

"I had a–"

The younger soldier started speaking before getting cut off by his captain pulling him in a hug. The man froze for a few seconds before relaxing into Price's embrace and closing his eyes, taking in his scent.

"It is okay, little one. We all have bad dreams sometimes. You can sleep here if you would like."

The soldier felt tears in his eyes at the nickname that Price gave him. Somehow, the older male always had the ability to touch his heart with simple words. He knew exactly what the reason was, but he felt so ashamed of it that he would not even admit it to himself.

He pulled away and looked down at his feet. He couldn't bring himself to look up at his captain's eyes because he knew it would make tears fall down his. He was not ready to show a vulnerable side of him to someone in the fucking military.

He knew from the start that things there would not be easy and that he would have to go along with the overwhelming environment of knowing that your life is in danger every time you wake. But he had nothing more.

Just like Price. He was alone in that world. He had no family other than his father, whom he had chosen to keep in a distance. He had no friends since he was always considered quite a jerk and a weird kid in school. He was not really successful in the romantic part of life, too.

He felt like a huge looser sometimes just thinking of what his life was before. The military was totally a much better place than the one he stood at a few months ago before joining special forces. At least here, he had something to fight for.

He had made friends who were really cool and surprisingly could relate to some of the things he had been through. He had a routine and a goal. And he knew that after every mission, he would come back in base and be waited by Soap, who would tell him how good he did and would spend the whole afternoon together celebrating their victory.

He had to admit this one. The military had saved him. In a way that nothing else had ever done in his life. He was glad he had taken the decision to join. Now, he had a purpose in life. Something to wake up and try for.

"We could watch a movie if you would like. It's just something small to make you forget about that night terror. You can choose what to watch."

Price suggested, making Y/n get back in reality and leave his thoughts behind. The soldier just nodded and started walking with Price, who had offered him his hand. The younger man looked at it before grabbing a hold of his pinky finger.

For no specific reason, but every time he was offered a hand by someone, he felt the need to hold their pinky finger. It had him feel more safe, if he was being honest.

He looked up at his captain right at the moment his hands made contact with his skin. He did not seem to mind one bit. His attention turned back to their hands. Price's hands were big. Bigger that his. Not much, but the difference could be visible.

The hold he had on Price brought back memories of his. Specifically, he remembered once when he was young, maybe eleven years old, he was out with his father in a very crowded place. He did not feel safe but did feel really uneasy between all those strangers. He remembered reaching for his father's hand to hold before having his slapped away and receiving a dirty look from his father.

The words he was told that day would forever stay in his memory. 'Do not go around touching me as if we were the best father and son duo. I did not want you in this world, and I still do not. If law was not pushing me to take care of you, I wouldn't be doing it.' Was exactly what his father said.

And it was a lie. His father never took care of him. Yes, he did bring him food on the table or kept him safe when it came to bullies trying to beat him up, but was never there in any other moment. The young man believed that those limited moments his father was a father were the ones making him still love him. He was his father, after all. He was a part of him.

As the soldier was, once again, lost in thoughts, Price had led them to a room that could be described as the living room of the base. It had a sofa and a TV in it. It was not much, but it was comfy enough for a military base.

Price walked to the sofa and sat down as Y/n picked a movie and put the DVD in the DVD player device that was placed in a selve next to where the TV was located. He pressed start and went to sit next to his captain, who had already gotten a blanket that was previously folded in the corner of the sofa.

Price patted the space next to him for the man to sit as the intro song of the movie started playing. The soldier took the offer, sneaking up close to his superior and getting comfortable under the blanket before turning to the screen.

A few moments later, he felt a hand being placed around his shoulder in a kind of protective way. He looked at it with a small sparkle in his eyes that the man to whom the arm belonged to noticed.

"You can lean in me if you would like. I have no problem."

Spoke Price without taking his eyes off the screen, but the man next to him could see his smile. It made him feel comfortable enough to tilt his head until it made contact with Price's chest.

The younger man put his legs on the sofa and laid his head on his captain's chest as Price's hand moved from his shoulder to his side, but Y/n did not mind it. He was too comfortable at that position to make any comment.

His gaze turned back to the screen, but his focus was still on Price. He was looking up at that man since he hand joined, and he was a little scared of his at first. But, just like he did with Ghost, who was to him ten times scarier, after a little bit of a conversation with him, he came to realize that they might look intimidating, but they were human deep down. And, even if some people do not want it to be admitted, all humans have a soft side.

Some people just hide it better than others.

"Is there something you need?"

Price asked as he looked down at the man who, with realizing, had been staring up at him for a little while.

"No, sir. I was just admitting to myself how much I admire you and your job."

Those words of honesty had truly touched Price. He always viewed the young soldier a little more of just one of his men ever since he learned by Soap about his background story.

Don't get him wrong. He cared dearly for all of his men and viewed them as his brothers, but with this young man, something inside him had been awaken. He felt the same he did when his, long lost, wife told him that she was pregnant. It felt as if that father every man had inside had been awakened.

He felt the need to protect that soldier with everything he had. Just like he felt with some other of his men, meaning of Gaz and Soap since they were the youngest of the all, when they first fell under his orders.

The moment Price looked down at the man again, he heard light snoring and felt a tight grip on his shirt. He looked down and saw the smaller males fist clenched on the fabric of his shirt. He felt himself being in tears but shrugged it off when he heard the loud noise from the television.

He took the remote in hand and turned the device off before standing up with the young man in his arms. Y/n cuddled in his embrace and buried his face on his chest as the cold hit him once he left the blanket.

Price chuckled to himself at the small whimper and the tremble that spread on the man's body with the change of temperature as he started walking back to his room.

He pushed the door open and closed it soft behind him, trying to make no sounds loud enough to wake the man up. He walked to his bed and placed the boy in it before pulling the blanket on top of his body. He patted the blanket on his chest and, without realizing it, leaned down and placed a kiss on the man's forehead.

"Goodnight, little one. Sweet dreams."

Price whispered, and the response he was not expecting to get left him stunned.

"Goodnight, dad, I love you a lot."

The soldier mumbled as he turned to his side and started snoring once again. Price felt a small tear rub down his cheek at the word that had just felt his man's mouth.

He has had such a relationship with both Soap and Gaz before, but neither one of them have ever called him 'dad'. At that moment, he knew that this man was going to be his adopted child from now on.

"I love you too, son."

He said as he laid down next to the man and pulled him back on his chest, letting all his body warmth move to the smaller ones body.

That boy had just changed his life with a simple sleepy mumble.

[yamayuandadu]

The answer to this is probably clear, but I'm baffled on where the Teen Wolf series got its lore on Kitsune from and why the fan communities think that they are in Japanese myths? One time I tried finding the sources for these "13 types" of Kitsune from the show, but nothing really aside from like one or two of them was out there in English atleast.

Is there any specific reason behind the increased amount of questions which appear to depend on random works of fiction I don't even post about as the sole point of reference? Did someone share my blog in some non-standard location? I know nothing about Teen Wolf but the "13 kitsune types" lists you can find in such illustrious sources as AI generated tiktoks and yt shorts and whatever this is:

are made up. Basically worthless as a source. Attempting to track their origin down lead me to a neocities version of an rp resource for the mmo Furcadia compiled between 2003 and 2007 which in turn depended on this archived page of highly dubious quality ("To be honest, I have no idea how many provinces are in Japan") going back to 1997, where the idea of 13 types was, as far as I can tell, invented based on, to put it diplomatically, rather creative exegesis of the 1961 book Kitsune. Japan's Fox of Mystery, Romance & Humor by Kiyoshi Nozaki, which is largely just a compilation of quotes from classical literature (which at the time would be something relatively novel in English) - free of 13 types of elemental foxes. Note that while the article mentions "researchers" the only sources other than this single book listed are random people active on the same websites as the author in the 1990s, as seen on the archived list of credits here. To date I haven't seen these lists of "kitsune types" actually being posted in Japanese, they exclusively propagate on the English-speaking web and on particularly low quality sites at that; they are absent from both credible and less than credible sources over on the Japanese side, as far as I am aware. A number of medieval sources contain an enumeration of three types of foxes - heavenly, earthly, and human, following the heaven-earth-man philosophical principle imported from China, but what that exactly entailed varies between said sources (Bernard Faure, Protectors and Predators, p. 138-139). Needless to say, this is completely unrelated to the discussed tomfoolery. Jp wikipedia claims there are a few Edo period attempts at arranging various terms for foxes like nogitsune, tenko etc. into some sort of hierarchy but I didn't independently verify that. In any case, nobody ever believed foxes have offbrand Pokemon types which determine their power level. The list of alleged fox types is the result of a game of telephone.