#i remember saying ‘i don’t know who he is’ and it felt right

[helenisaweirdo]

the small bundle covered in blankets felt heavy in kaiser’s hands. kaiser was by no means weak in; but when the previously crying baby was coaxed by your exhausted voice to sleep, millions of doubts weighed down on kaiser—even heavier than the weight of his father’s hands on kaiser’s neck when he was a child.

“i think she’s fond of you. she must have heard those conversations you had with her when she was still in my stomach.”

your small, almost inaudible voice brought your husband out of his trance. the soft blonde hair peeking out of the pale blue beanie—the hair most definitely being inherited from kaiser—were like golden rays of sun. kaiser looked down at you, sitting down on the bed you were currently lying down. kaiser moved his gaze to his daughter, who slept peacefully.

“i don’t know,” he swallowed, a tattooed hand gently caressing his daughter’s cheek. “am i…really cut out to be a father? what if i become just like him? what if i accidentally hurt her just like that piece of scum did with me? what if she hates me? what if—“

your eyes soften, remembering the days in your childhood with kaiser, when he was always playing with the stray dogs while soot and bruises, and sometimes even blood, ornamented his body. you’ll never forget the days when you were both 14, when he finally told you; his father’s treatment of him, his father’s constant drinking, how his mother left him, and how his goal was just…to be loved.

and that’s when you realized: he had no home—no an emotional one, at least. a boy who was never taught manners or how to survive or how to properly speak, a boy who was never taught what was good for him and what was bad for him. and he never even went to school either until bastard münchen taught classes.

you reached forward to reach his hand, kaiser once against moving his glance to you. “michael, you won’t. i know you won’t. you’re not him, michael. you’re you. and unlike when you were growing up, i won’t leave you or our daughter. ever.” you brought his tattooed hand up to your lips. “it’ll be hard, but im sure it will all turn out okay, michael.”

and suddenly kaiser feels a sting, tears beginning to pool at the brim of his eyes as his chest tightens. damn it, he didn’t even cry during your delivery…but when the two most important women—no, people, in his life are right in front of him, one of them looking at him like he’s the most precious treasure in the world, how could he not be vulnerable?

kaiser takes your hands and placed it on his chest—right where his heart is. he runs his thumb over the cool surface of your wedding ring on your finger, his daughter seemingly beginning to wake up, though still quiet.

“thank you for being in my life. i love you.”

———

to anyone who says “ooc” “kaiser would never do this” etc,

lemme just remind you that kaiser has stated MULTIPLE TIMES throughout the bastard münchen vs PXG match that his goal was just to be loved. another thing is that in kaiser’s official character profile (from the egoist bible), his type is described as “someone who’s beautiful, smart, and full of love”

(if anyone says “omg ness is literally his type” in the comments then im actually going to scream because i hate kainess with a passion. it’s so toxic and kaiser literally sees ness as a dog and ness’ so-called “feelings” for kaiser is just a result of manipulation. plus, ness doesn’t actually match kaiser’s type. ness is smart, yes, but ness has never been stated to be good looking in any way shape or form. in fact, judging from ness’ backstory, he might even be canonically ugly. plus, ness doesn’t ACTUALLY love kaiser. again, it’s just “feelings” that began to form from manipulation.)

[revelboo]

A silly little thing,, but I’m an Optimus Prime girlie & happen to also be an ‘exotic dancer’ lmao, so when I was reading Gravity….you can imagine the actual surprise & joy I felt when the reader revealed she was (or used to be one) too, like 😭😭😭 what are the ODDS?? Must be his aura….I love him, your honor

It’s meant to be!

Gravity Pt 12

Optimus x Reader

• Staring at the screen long after Megatron’s little message ends and his fellow Autobots that had seen it start speculating, all he can think of is that he’s not alone. And it’s a relief. Leaving the warmth of you to report for his duties had been difficult. Especially since you’d woken up first and had straddled him. Even deep in recharge, his body responding to those soft hands touching him. Definitely not the worse way to come to alertness and even though he’d hit the washracks, he swears he can still scent you clinging to him. But then it really sinks in. That the Decepticons are taking humans and using them. Because that’s an atrocity that hadn’t even occurred to him.

• Stretching to touch your toes, you idly run through a few stances to limber up because you’re bored out of your mind. As much fun as playing with Optimus is, as soon as he leaves, you’re alone with your thoughts again. Remembering the look on his face before he’s schooled his expression into neutrality. Like a big, lovesick puppy, hurt that sex is all you want. Blowing out a breath as you spin in a slow circle, head tipping back, you know you’d lied to him. But then, you’d lied to yourself to. Saying you don’t want more, when deep down, you do. You’re just afraid to hope, to let down your defenses knowing you can get hurt again if you do. That love is just a pretty lie used to reach a goal.

• Sliding into his seat, he steeples his servos as he listen to the bits of gossip and conversation around him. How many humans are in the Ark at this point? Honestly, he’s not sure anymore. But he does know one thing, he’s probably not the only one who’s gotten attached to their ward. Who’s crossed that particular line. And it’s out there now for all of them, the fact that their species are at least compatible that way. Dropping his head into his hands, he stares at the floor. Because someone’s going to need to have that conversation with the Autobots keeping humans. On the ethics of taking advantage of a much younger species. And how is he supposed to do that when he’s interfacing with you?

• Head lifting when he finally returns, your smile wavers when he just stares at you. “You look like the other kids were bullying you, babe.” Venting he sits on the edge of the berth and then just slumps backwards, hands over his face. Oh. Well this is new, usually he’s so calm and serious. Climbing up his arm and over onto his chassis, you drop to straddle his neck, arms crossed on his chin. “Want me to beat up someone for you?” When his head tips to look at you, you lift an arm to flex your nonexistent muscle for him.

• Your mischievous expression twists through him as he lifts a servo to slide against your spine. “When we- er- interfaced,” he says, ignoring when you cheerfully interject ‘fucked like bunnies.’ “I didn’t pressure you. Right?” Because he can’t imagine what those poor humans captured by the Decepticons are suffering and can’t help but wonder if you’d let him have you out of intimidation or fear.

• “Oh, you are too sweet for words. If anything I seduced you, big guy.” Laughing as he frowns seriously at you, you push up to stand on his neck and drape yourself against his chin, tapping a finger on his bottom lip. “Don’t worry. I promise you didn’t corrupt my innocence.” More likely, you’re corrupting his.

• “I could have,” he says, joking as some of his worry eases and you grin, brows lifting. Expression giving away how much you doubt that. “I can be a bad influence.” His protest just makes you laugh, that warm sound stroking over him. How can this be wrong when you feel so much like home? When he wants to lay beside you and exchange stories. Ask about each other’s day and spend his free time in your arms, listening to you laugh with him. Wants so much more than your body. “The Decepticons are taking humans.” Unable to say to interface with.

Previous

[cyberlsk]

good for you

leon s. kennedy/fem!reader smut (minors DNI) warnings: degradation (mean old leon who loves you but also loves being mean), daddy kink, a lot of teasing synopsis: You try to prove to Leon that you’re not just a submissive little bitch. He proves you wrong.

photo from pinterest

You remember exactly how this all started–Leon, all sweet smiles and calloused hands, thrusting into you with a hunger that left you breathless. And in that moment, it felt like there was nothing else but him. So deep, so warm and full that you could hardly breathe.

“What’s wrong, baby?” he taunts, his voice lilting with false concern. “I thought this is what you wanted.” His lips curl into a wicked grin as your nails rake down his back, sure to leave trails on his skin for days. “Perfect little pussy begging me to take care of her, yeah?” Your legs lock around his neck like a vice, pulling him so impossibly close that he could  ravage every single part of you. 

If he noticed the marks you were leaving, he didn’t show it. If anything, he was too busy raking his eyes over you, you unraveling beneath him, you digging into his shoulders to ground yourself, you trying to hold back every pathetic little whimper. “That’s all you’re good for, isn’t it?” he murmured, punctuating his words with a nip on your neck. “Taking me like a good little bitch.”

“No, daddy,” you bit out, your voice shaky but defiant. “ ‘M not.”

You’d tried to flip him over then, albeit weakly, and he’d humored you. “Go on, baby,” he’d said, letting you bounce on his cock until your thighs gave out and the searing look in his eyes made your resolve crumble, made you want to let daddy win, let him use you however he wanted.

But not tonight.

Tonight, you were going to make him beg.

You crawl onto his lap, wearing a skimpy set in contrast to his full work attire. He doesn't move at first, just watches you with that lazy, knowing grin that makes your stomach do flips.

“Yeah?” he says, toying with the hem of your panties. “You sure you don’t want daddy to take over, fuck your little princess parts until you’re stuffed with cum?” His hands trace up your sides, slow and deliberate, before settling on your chest, rubbing light circles into your chest.

You shake your head vehemently. “No, daddy,” you respond, with as much composure as you can foster in your current position. “ ‘M not a princess. I can handle myself, don’t need you to lead.”

For a moment, you think you see a flicker of surprise in his eyes, but it's gone as soon as it comes. "That so?" he says, tone mocking. Before he can continue, you grind down on his cock, so hard that you can feel the stiff fabric of his slacks drag against your clit. And he groans, tongue wetting his lower lip as his eyes rake your body, chest heaving already as he looks at you in awe. You decide to roll your hips again, overwhelmed by the sensation of him — gorgeous, masculine, cologne earthy, and a faint sheen of sweat covering his skin. Leon, Leon, Leon, was all you could think as you dragged your pussy along his bulge. Oh, Leon.

He groans, low and broken and needy, grabs at the flesh on your hips as you rut against him. “That’s if. That’s my good girl. My good — fucking — girl. Isn’t that right?” His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and you grit your teeth, trying your damn hardest to not give into the submissive headspace that threatened to take over you. No, today, you were going to put him in his place. Today, you weren’t daddy’s girl.

“Nope,” you retort in a clipped voice. “I’m gonna fuck you tonight, daddy. And you're gonna beg me to let you cum.” You meet his heated gaze with a roll of your hips so slow and strong that he gasps, sharp and choked, and heat pools down in your stomach. “Yeah, you like that?” you say, fighting back the neediness that claws up your stomach and continuing to grind on him, the friction almost painful. His hair has fallen in his eyes, his head lolled back against this couch as he damn near whimpers at the feeling of your hot, went cunt dragging against his bulge. You involuntarily freeze at the sound. God, he was so gorgeous just like this. And he was all yours. 

Something about that makes your head spin. Maybe it’s the rush of possession, maybe it’s just how good he feels against you, how strong his arms are as they wrap around your waist, maybe it’s the rough callouses on his hands tracing tantalizing shapes up your back,  squeezing lightly on the back of your neck—the way they would when he wanted you to arch your back so he could feel your tits rubbing against his chest as he fucked you. God, he was practically devouring you.

You squeal as he adjusts his legs, sitting wider so you can grind on him with more vigor. He grins lazily at your near pathetic display of need. 

“Can’t take a little grinding? You haven’t even fucked me yet,” he taunts, lower lip curled between his teeth. He bucks his hips up for further emphatics, drawing a full whine out of you. 

At this point, you’re struggling to keep your eyes open, clawing at any and every inch of exposed skin you can on his body. You fumble with the front buttons of his suit and give up on the collared shirt, shoving your hands inside the small gap to claw  from his stomach to his chest. “Baby…”

“Baby,” he mocks in the same needy tone. “What’s wrong?

Cmon, use your big girl words. Think, baby. Or has my cock already made you stupid?”

You huff,  freeing his dick from his pants in one unceremonious motion and sinking down on it. If there was one thing for sure, it was that Leon’s dick was the best thing you had ever felt. You just felt so full, his balls nudging against your clit, his tip pressing into that one spot that made your knees weak and your head spin with need. But you couldn’t give into that. No, you needed to prove him wrong.

“Sit back,” you demand. Leon chuckles.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Slowly, you begin to hump up and down on his length, relishing in the stretch that he provided to your poor, achy hole. You reached between your legs before you sunk down again, collecting the mix of your arousals onto your fingers. The second your hand met your clit, he knew he was done for.

“Ah—shit! Ah, baby, so tight,” he moaned. “So fucking tight, baby. I could fuck you forever. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

His words shoot molten gold down to your clit, now throbbing against your hands as you ride him. Fuck, he feels unreal, his tip nudging that spot that makes you claw at his shoulders in a decidedly non-dominant way. You can feel him twitch inside you whenever you sink down, down, and you relish in his shaky exhales–fuck, just like that, he says under his breath. “Fuck, baby.” You drag your thighs up, so slow that it makes your muscles ache but quickly overridden by the feeling of every inch of him sliding past your walls. You almost feel the swell of his cock leave you before he slams you back down, hips snapping up to meet yours in long, hard thrusts. 

“Nope. No fucking way,” he grits out, brows furrowed with exertion. You know you should just accept defeat. The stretch sends overwhelming sparks up your tummy with each thrust. He fucks you like he’ll die if you don’t cream on his cock, tangles his fingers through your hair in messy handfuls as he bounces you up and down. You should accept defeat, but you don’t. 

“Daddy,” you whine in your littlest, most submissive voice ever. He slows down a little to brush your hair back.

“Yes, baby?” 

You have to bite back a smile.

“What’s wrong? You can’t handle a little teasing?”

The friction is maddening, each thrust sending a jolt of heat up your spine. Leon’s head falls back against the couch, his lips parting in a low groan that makes your thighs tremble. God, he looks wrecked—hair sticking to his forehead, eyes dark and hooded, chest heaving with short spasms of breath.

“Fuck,” he rasps, his hands tightening on your hips. “Keep going, baby. Just like that.”

You smirk, rolling your hips slower this time, savoring the way his jaw clenches and his fingers dig into your flesh. “Like this?” you purr, leaning in close so your breath brushes his ear. He hisses in frustration, attempting to thrust into you, but you respond by lifting your hips so far off him that his tip is almost at your entrance.

His eyes snap to yours. It’s downright sinister how good he looks when he sees red. Hands fisting the couch below him so tightly that his knuckles turn white, betraying the calm demeanor he tries to maintain. Veins protruding up his arm, cock pulsing angrily within you. As if it was possible to feel any fuller. “Oh, you’re gonna regret that.”

You smile. Good. Let him break. Let him beg, for once.

Leon entertains you. You look plain adorable, blinking at him with big, droopy eyes and pawing at his thighs for support as you bounce. Up, down, up. He senses your movements slowing, and it brings him some sort of sexual schadenfreude to see you wrest what little bit of control you have left within you to fuck him. God, he could just fuck you forever. He glides a hand up your navel, seemingly without a care in the world, pecks your chest with kisses before lightly squeezing the sides of your neck. Judging by the way you squirm, he knows he’s affecting you more than you’re letting on. Then again, you were also affecting him more than he’d admit.

He knows he’s won this round when you slip off him, flopping on your back to touch yourself while he can’t do anything but watch–bullshit, he knows. You’ve overexerted yourself. Your eyes are barely open as you stroke long, imprecise circles into your clit, needing to get there, reach that edge and fall off, but not quite being able to. So you’re teasing him by taking a break. Smart, he thinks. But not enough to fool him.

“–Leon!” you squeal as he cages you beneath his body, arms flexing by your head, knees forcing yours apart. 

“Yes, princess?” he lilts, nipping your ear in affection before showering your face with kisses. “Something you want from me?”

Leon presses a hand down on your stomach, preventing you from lifting your hips. Then, slowly, he drags his cock against your soaked slit, tip barely nudging the entrance and making you gasp before he lifts it up, bumping your clit instead. You can see his shoulders strain, yet he maintains an agonizing amount of patience. How is he so patient? God, it feels like you’re burning up from the inside out. If he doesn’t fuck you right this moment, you might just give in. Be his submissive little girl, whatever. That’s not bad, actually. He’s practically nuzzling his face into your neck, lifting it up every so often to smile at you, bright blue eyes colored with mischief. And he just keeps grinding his tip against you, never quite giving you exactly what you need.

“Daddy can’t handle a little teasing?” he scoffs, mimicking your words from earlier. “Daddy can’t? Oh, I’ll show you what a little teasing is.”

//

yes i am celebrating the weekend by writing leon smut. MANNN what do you mean he’s not real like i can’t wake up each day and go leon leonnnn wake up sleepyhead you gorgeous man like

[peterm4rker]

from the rooftops || m.l

twenty one. yn protectors

🕸🕷✮⋆˙ wc. 1.5k w. curse words, stalking, stab wounds ! ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

it was a new day, and an extremely calm one at that.

there had been no tweets made about you in gossip accounts, and no texts from anyone creepy. god, what had your life become?

it was weird though, how an unsettling feeling clung to your stomach as you got ready to go to class, how it didn’t go away during your lesson. you thought it was probably due to the recent events in your life, but it still wasn’t pleasant in the least.

“i don’t know, i feel funny” you shrugged as you walked next to chanhee and younghoon, slowly approaching where rei and yujin sat, munching down on snacks you would definitely be stealing.

“a lot has happened these days, it’s normal that you feel that way” younghoon reassured, ruffling your hair once you got to the table. “hey, uglies” he greeted the girls, causing yujin to roll her eyes exaggeratedly.

“look who’s talking about ugly” she said, a disgusted expression in her eyes.

younghoon mimicked her in a high pitched tone, sticking his tongue out at her before settling on one of the benches, opening his arms so chanhee could sit between his legs.

you couldn’t help but smile at the sight, the feeling at the pit of your stomach slowly dissipating now that you were surrounded by the people you loved the most.

a few minutes passed between laughs and loud bickering that had completely distracted you from whatever it was that bothered you.

“isn’t that mark and his friends?” rei asked as she pointed to a large group. you squinted in order to see if she was right, your heart fluttering as mark’s eyes connected with yours. 

you waved them over with a smile, happy to see everyone.

“hey” you said happily once that mark was in front of you.

“hey, ynnie, everything alright?” the boy asked with a soft smile, reaching to ruffle your hair lightly, eliciting a small laugh to fall from your lips. 

“everything alright, markie” you nodded, reassuring his silent concern.

“are we painted on the wall or?” chenle’s voice interrupted your thoughts, making you pry your eyes away from marks in order to wave at the rest of them as well.

“i’m sorry, hi guys” you spoke, being met with enthusiastic greetings from all of them before the whole group erupted in conversation.

you loved spending time with all of them. even when having that large of a group could be overwhelming at times, you felt lucky to have made such good friends with each of them. it made you feel supported and protected, something you would need then, even when you didn’t know that.

“oh, hi” you heard jaemin’s voice say as he greeted a strange male that had approached the group. everyone’s attention moved towards him, heads tilted in curiosity. your eyebrows furrowed as you felt uneasy once again, too focused on trying to remember if you had met that man somewhere before to notice the way mark’s face changed to a far more serious one and how hyuck took a hold of his wrist silently.

“hello” the guy greeted shortly, not spearing anyone a glance as his eyes focused on you “miss ln, i would like to talk to you”

the name made your heart beat with fear, instantly recognizing it from the messages that had been creeping you out for days on end. your friends seemed to connect the thoughts as well; yujin grabbing your wrist from behind as younghoon stepped forward as if to shield your body. mark stepped forward as well, looking more serious than you had ever seen him.

“you’re the creep that’s been harassing yn” rei spoke with a frown on her face, and that made the rest of the boys’ ears perk up. jeno stood up and you almost smiled at how the creep’s eyes widened at the size of him.

“i do not intend any harm, i would just like to talk to her in private” he spoke, his hands flying up in defense.

“you’re not saying jackshit to her” mark spoke, and his voice sounded so serious that your heart fluttered among the fear on your chest.

“that’s not for you to decide” the guy deadpanned, and you swore mark’s hand twitched. 

“it’s fine, mark” you said, stepping up from behind younghoon. “he’s right, i already told you i don't want anything from you. i’ve blocked you twice, without mentioning that one of them was when you texted me to my personal phone number which i sure as hell didn’t give you.” you responded, voice steady even when you felt like your heart was going to beat out of your chest. “i told you to leave me alone, so leave before i stop acting like i give a fuck about what they do to you.”

his eyes flickered between you and the people around you before he took a step back, bowing politely and muttering “very well” before turning around and leaving like nothing had happened.

once he was out of your sight, you felt your chest deflate with a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. 

“what a fucking creep” yujin broke the silence, making everyone erupt in chatter again.

“you okay?” chanhee asked, looking at you with worried eyes.

“yeah, im okay” you gave him a weak smile before turning around, joining the conversation again as you tried to shake the odd feeling away.

…

“i came with my car, i’ll be fine” you assured younghoon as you stood in the parking lot of his apartment building.

“alright” he sighed, knowing that it was best to give up “please tell us when you're home”

you nodded and gave him a hug before entering your car and driving home. the drive was silent until you finally got to your destination. you hopped off of your car and walked to the door of the apartment building when a voice made you freeze on your steps.

“miss ln” 

your eyes widened and your heart raced as you turned around slowly, finding no other than your very own stalker.

“i would like to talk to you now that we’re alone” he walked forward, and you couldn’t react. you had been so brave when facing him before, but that was when you were surrounded by people, a good chunk of them being massive (for some reason unknown to you). “i have a proposition that i think would benefit your future as a reporter, you see. since you have a close relationship with spiderman, it wouldn't be hard for you to unmask him. we could solve a big mystery, miss ln, we could be great”

he continued to walk closer to you, and your heart was about to explode. “i already said no, please leave me alone” you muttered, your voice sounding weaker than you had intended it to.

“but if you just heard the plan” he said, already standing way too close for your comfort when he lifted his hand, seemingly about to touch your hair when he stopped abruptly.

in one second, he went from being a few centimetres away from you to the floor thanks to a harsh yank on his arm.

you looked at the direction in which he had gone, finding none other than spiderman standing mighty and firm just above him.

“she told you to leave her alone” he spoke, his voice firm as he approached him. the man stood up and looked at him with such fury in his eyes that you would’ve been scared if you didn’t know spiderman. he charged at him quickly, moving quickly and frantically as if he had a chance to ever actually harm him. the superhero dodged him with ease, moving swiftly away from him. “you know, i'm normally pretty friendly, but you’re starting to piss me off” he grunted.

the guy kept going at him, his hand moving to his pocket for a few seconds before flying out, holding a knife. you screamed the hero’s name in order to warn him, but your words did more harm than good.

his head moved up to look at you just as the guy charged once again, landing a blow to his stomach and burying the knife in.

“motherfucker!” spiderman spoke as he punched the guy away and trapped him with spiderwebs to the floor. the synchronization between him and the police had been astonishing, because just as he carved the knife out of his body, sirens blared in the air.

everything happened in a flash, the police questioning, spiderman leaving, the guy being arrested. it happened so fast that you thought you could have been making up the entire thing when you sat on your bed, staring at the floor. that until you heard a knock on the glass, of course.

your eyes shot to the figure hanging by your window, a superhero you were more than familiar with clutching his bloody side. you rushed to open the window and let him in, guiding him to sit on your desk chair quickly. 

“i’m so sorry, i shouldn't have called your name, you were busy and i interrupted” you ranted, picking at your nails nervously.

“it’s okay, none of it was your fault” he assured, and you couldn’t really distinguish his facial expressions through the mask. “are you okay? did he hurt you? that was pretty intense”

you shook your head, heart warming at how he still worried about you, even when he was the one bleeding. “i’m okay, but you’re bleeding”

he looked down like he had just remembered he was “oh shit, i better get out of here before i stain anything” he rushed, standing up.

“wait! i can help you if you need” you rushed to say “i have a first aid kit and i can do stitches, i just really need to know that you’re okay”

mark’s heart warmed at your words, that caring nature that he loved so much shining through more than ever. he weighed his options in his head; he could go to hyuck as he always did and worry for you at home or he could let you help him and worry about you right there. “okay, that would be good”

you smiled at his answer and rushed to the bathroom, taking the first aid and a few towels to lay down on the floor around him.

“i’m going to need to either cut up the suit or that you take it off” you said, cautiously. “i think i have a halloween mask somewhere, you can wear that.”

mark chuckled softly, shaking his head “don’t worry, not necessary” he spoke and somehow undid the top part of the suit, leaving his toned upper body in its naked glory. “sorry, the whole top comes off” he said awkwardly as he noticed your staring.

you shook your head and quickly moved your eyes away from him, going to sit next to him and beginning to tend his wounds as carefully as you could. “it’s going to hurt, i’m sorry” you mumbled before pressing a towel with alcohol on the wound.

he hissed softly, but endured it as if he was used to it. “stop saying sorry so much” he reassured, and you could hear the smile in his voice.

“sorry” you said, earning a chuckle to stumble past his lips.

you did the rest of the procedure in comfortable silence, all up until he was standing at the edge of your window once again. 

“thank you for saving me” you spoke, a small smile on your lips.

“of course, i’ll always be there when you need me” he smiled, ruffling your hair before waving and swinging away as fast as he had arrived.

funny, mark always did that.

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© peterm4rker, 2024

[kryllia]

Through His Eyes

Yandere boyfriend x reader

art from pinterest

The first time you met Aiden, he felt like a breath of fresh air. His smile was soft, his words laced with sincerity, and his eyes—oh, those eyes—were warm pools of honey that seemed to melt away all your worries. He was perfect, almost too perfect, but you never dared question it. After all, wasn’t this what everyone wanted? Someone who understood you without words, someone who loved you so wholly and selflessly?

Aiden was the embodiment of devotion. He knew your coffee order by heart, memorized your class schedule within days, and always texted you right when it was needed most. If you were stressed after a long day, he’d already be waiting at the door with your favorite snacks and that soft, knowing smile. It was as if he could read your mind.

And in a way, he could.

But you didn’t know that yet.

It wasn’t until much later—much too late—that you realized Aiden wasn’t just attentive. He was obsessive.

Aiden sat in his dimly lit room, multiple monitors casting a faint bluish glow on his face. Each screen displayed a different angle of your apartment: the kitchen, the living room, the bedroom. His eyes lingered on the feed from the bedroom camera as you shuffled under the covers, sighing softly before drifting off to sleep.

He sighed too, mirroring you from miles away.

“You look so peaceful like this,” he whispered to no one in particular, his finger tracing the outline of your face on the screen. “So beautiful... mine.”

His phone buzzed, pulling him out of his trance. It was the tracking app. You had left your phone on the nightstand, unmoving for the past hour. He smiled, knowing you were safe, knowing you were his.

You had always wondered how Aiden seemed to know everything so well. He’d always have your favorite song playing in his car, always know when illness was about to hit before symptoms even showed. It was... uncanny. But it felt good. It felt like love.

“Do you ever get tired of being so perfect?” you teased one evening, sitting across from him in a cozy cafe.

Aiden chuckled, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Perfect? Oh no, I just... pay attention to the things that matter.”

You.

It was always you.

The first red flag appeared on a rainy Thursday night. You had been at work late, phone dead, and bus delayed. When you finally got home, drenched and exhausted, Aiden was already there—waiting by the door, umbrella in hand.

“How did you...?” you stammered.

His smile didn’t waver. “You mentioned your shift would be longer today, remember? I wanted to make sure you got home safely.”

You shrugged it off. Aiden was sweet. Too sweet to question.

But the nagging feeling in your chest wouldn’t go away.

It wasn’t until weeks later, when you stumbled upon a small black device tucked discreetly behind a picture frame in your bedroom, that reality came crashing down.

A camera.

Your hands trembled as you held it up, your breaths shallow. Your mind raced as puzzle pieces began snapping into place: the perfectly timed texts, the way he always seemed to know where you were, the way he... watched.

Your phone buzzed.

Aiden: Are you okay, sweetheart? You seem upset.

The camera was still in your hand.

He knew.

When Aiden arrived at your apartment that night, his smile was softer than usual, his eyes alight with something... dangerous.

“You found it, didn’t you?” he said quietly, stepping into your space.

Your voice trembled. “Why, Aiden? Why would you—?”

“Because I love you,” he interrupted, his voice trembling with an intensity that sent chills down your spine. “Don’t you see? I can’t lose you. I won’t lose you.”

His hand reached for yours, but you pulled away.

“You’re scaring me,” you whispered.

His expression crumbled, hurt flashing across his face. “No, no, please don’t say that. I’d never hurt you. I just... I just needed to be sure. I needed to keep you safe. They don’t love you like I do. They don’t understand you like I do.”

Tears welled in his eyes, but behind them, you saw something unhinged. Something feral.

“You don’t have to run from me,” he pleaded, stepping closer. “You’re mine. You’ve always been mine.”

Your phone was in your hand now, your finger hovering over the emergency call button.

He saw it.

Aiden lunged.

-

Hours later, you woke up to the feeling of soft fabric against your cheek. You were lying on a plush bed in a room you didn’t recognize. The windows were covered, the air filled with the faint scent of lavender and... him.

Aiden.

You tried to sit up, but your wrists were bound with silken ropes—tight enough to hold you, soft enough not to bruise.

“Shh, it’s okay,” Aiden’s voice cooed from the corner of the room. He stepped into view, his face illuminated by the faint glow of a bedside lamp.

“You’re safe now. No one can take you away from me here.”

He sat on the edge of the bed, his hand brushing a strand of hair from your face.

“I love you so much. You understand that, don’t you?”

His eyes glistened with something almost holy, like he truly believed every word he said.

In that moment, you realized one thing with chilling certainty:

You belonged to him now.

And he was never going to let go.

[tojislibrvry]

★ ︵ @ toji / reader , missionary , unprotected, religious imagery , manipulation , religious indoctrination , biblical themes but no allusions to any certain religion

you don’t believe in God. God is not a word that is familiar with your tongue nor is it a concept familiar with your soul. even when your mind had been destroyed, life in shambles had you turned to religion to bring you to normalcy. faith was never salvation to you.

you were simply an atheist — a fool they would call you, who proudly believes there is no God. they tell you, you lack spiritual discernment, that the holy words of God are lost to your ears. your rooted anti-belief in the existence of any God runs deep, so why are you listening to the stranger outside your home promising you heaven ?

your values don’t waver, your beliefs don’t change yet you are hooked onto every word that spills from the strange man’s lips hooked like a subdued snake dancing along to the snake charmer’s tunes.

you take notice of how he looks, unbelievable both literally and figuratively in the sense he looks beautiful enough to rival eros but deceit threaded through his black suit making him as unreliable as the serpent in paradise. he flashes a smile at your disorientation holding his hand out for you to trust him.

you try to remember how you got yourself into this, previous encounters with those wanting to talk about religion of any kind met with your defiant roll of eyes and the door slammed on their face. this man, toji, he introduced himself as, was quick to place his feet between your doorframe ( not that you noticed ).

“you don’t believe in heaven do you ?”

huh, breaking out of your reverie, you realise that he had stopped talking a good two minutes ago. smiling nervously, you shake your head.

“even if heaven was real, wouldn’t everyone alive be in hell ? aren’t we all sinners ?” you step forward a little braver, “can you look me in the eye and tell me God would let you step into heaven?”

he laughs boisterously at your line of questioning. “my God would.”

“he has witnessed my very descent into hell, watched the way my hands shook the devil’s and yet used his holy palms to pull out my blasphemous ones out of the netherworld. if my treacherous soul could be welcomed to heaven, he would wait with open arms to invite you in when you pass.”

you take a good look at his face, one look and you knew this man was not a child of God. his hair pushed back neatly, his face clean shaven like he had eliminated any hint of shabbiness right before he stepped foot into your world, a smile plastered on his face but none of it truly reflected in his piercing green eyes. despite the very prominent signs of danger like the scar on his lips that ran vertically across or the way his arms bulged under his suit like it was built to be a weapon, no, it was the way mirth danced in his eyes that wouldn’t let you believe him.

if eyes were a window to your soul, toji was a man with sacrilege running through his veins.

“sure buddy. i think it’s time you leave—” “there is none who does good. all of us fall short of the standard God has set, do you think he expects perfection from us? does a mother not know the follies of her children ?”

you tilt your head, trying to come up with an answer that you know you wouldn’t be able to come up with. “uh— i’m not sure what you are talking about.” you are beyond nervous now, anxiety creeping into your blood, heart beating faster than it should.

“am i scaring you sweetheart, fear not.” he steps into your house, your final boundary between him and your own personal haven breached. “all i'm saying is think of all those times you’ve felt alone, felt wrong in your skin. i come here as a sign for you, to show you you are never truly alone. our God does not see sinners, he does not see sin, he sees you and he sees love.”

he grabs your soft, much smaller hands and places it on his broad chest while placing his palm right on top of your beating heart. “feel that? listen to the way your heart calms down, notice the way it syncs with mine. embrace the way that our God is showing you.”

you nod, swallowing the lump in your throat, pupils blown black with how utterly enamoured by his words you are. you can hear the slowing of your heart, the thump-thump softer than ever, the stress you constantly feel in your shoulder leaving you.

you try to break yourself out of the daze you are in, “i don’t think this is right, i think you should leave, you are messing with my… head.” you weakly and begrudgingly try to push him out the door, trying to erase the mark he has left on your soul.

“i'm not messing with your head darling, i'm trying to enlighten you. do you want me to show you a taste of heaven ? to feel the eternal bliss that is guaranteed if you listen to me ?”

“what are you talking about—” “let me guide you through what is heaven on earth, to let you experience a little death in this very mortal realm.” he closes the door behind him as he steps closer, his tall stature casting a shadow upon you barring the sunlight from hitting your skin.

“let me show you what our God put us on earth for, why he made you and me. allow me to show you the virtues of the flesh, the way God intended for us to fit perfectly together.” he bends down to match your height, revelling in the way your breath hitches when you feel his apple scented breath on your face.

“do you want to see how God forgives our sins— for we are never pure before our maker ?”

you nod.

toji leads you to your own bedroom with practiced ease like he had been there before. he guides you with a palm splayed against your lower back, with the kind of insistence that blurs the lines between gentle and rough. he lets you watch him undress in the dim lit room, the way a stray sun ray falls on his tan skin as he unbuttons the white shirt.

you cannot take your eyes of the display of skin and flesh, feeling like an animal that wants to sink its canines to its poor prey. he has the slightest smirk painted on his lips when he's done stripping himself naked, his body in the nude as he presents himself unabashedly.

he does not chide your wandering eyes. he does not question the way your eyes travel down to his cock, fixated on the heavy muscle bobbing between his thighs. he rather encourages it, walking closer so he can strip you now.

hands gentle, as gentle as scarred and calloused palms can be, when he pulls down the straps of your slip dress. the lace showing very less resistant as it pools around your feet on the carpeted ground. he watches you grow shy under his unwavering gaze.

he calls you beautiful, your mind registers late. he admires the gooseflesh that has erupted on your skin, the way you resemble a sweet fruit ebbing with the weight of blood. he looks at you, like you are the apple and he is eve. he looks ready to defy his very God for the taste of knowledge, oh rather the knowledge of your taste.

you pull him to your bed, the soft sheets with white lace trim like you were God's true virgin. he does not judge you when you pull out the condoms from your bedside drawer, no he does not care if you joined and became one with countless others before. he only reserves the right to be the first to desecrate you with his cum. he wishes to be the first that gets to feel your tight walls close on his cock, to feel you warm him from the deepest crevices of your body.

he crawls on to the bed, pushing aside the contraceptive you hold in your hands to cage you underneath him so he can kiss you with ferver and passion, he licks your mouth open and tastes the rich wine that coats your mouth. the taste of your pliant mouth and the way it glides against his teeth and lips is enough to let him moan.

he focuses on kissing you while a single hand travels from your navel to your chest, so he could play with the soft skin around your sensitive nipples. he does not shame you for crying out loud when he pinches you, the way your body arches of the bed when his mouth replaces his hand. he is meticulous in the way he is precise in bringing you satisfaction, but he is messy in the way spit trails and dries in streaks on your skin.

he takes his time worshiping your body, though idolation is a sin. he treats you like fragile glass as he leaves open mouthed kisses from your mouth to the wetness pooling between your thighs. he grins with pride when he takes sight of the mess that greets him, dripping with need at simply a few kisses.

"you worry too much, God will not punish you for feeling this way about his messenger." he says before kissing you in places that you are sure God would never approve of despite his saccharine words.

he pulls you closer to his mouth, licking and worshiping you with his tongue in a way that makes your eyes roll back. he lets his finger ghost around the edge of your awaiting hole, letting you suck in a harsh breath before pushing it in. the resistance around his finger does not stop him, he continues his assault with both his mouth and finger, loosening you up for the devil in between his thighs. he goes on with his ministrations but stopping every time he gauges you are close, constantly edging you like he is gatekeeping your orgasm.

his finger is coated with the myrrh like essence of your arousal but he does not seem to mind it. after what he thinks is the appropriate amount of preparation your hole needs to accomodate his throbbing cock, he spreads you upen both your legs spread apart on the either side of his corded thighs. he places a gentle kiss to your forehead and mutters an apology against your lips, when he pushes himself in.

simply taking just his tip in, the mushroomy cockhead, spurting pre nudged inside your feverish hole is enough for the both of you to let noises of pleasure echo through the room. he wishes he could refuse the way you feel, but he cannot deny you are the best he has felt around him in the longest time.

"toji, you— you can move!" you give the man permission, your hand traveliing down to his arm that holds your legs apart so you can tug on him to consume you closer. he grunts past the resistance of your walls, your feet pressed against the small of his back trapping him in the blessing of your sultry hole.

all toji needs is your honeyed voice to consent to his debauchery so he begins to punish you with harsh thrusts that make you see stars. he is an experienced man that takes thirty seconds to find that gooey spot in you, abusing his knowledge to make you loose lipped and empty brained. he devours the spit that drools from your mouth, cherishing the way you began to pray to him.

incessant "please toji! please, please, please!" ringing in his ears as sweat from his forehead threatens to hide the image of you getting unravelled in front of him.

despite the pleasure you feel, you arent convinced there is a God that would forgive you for the way toji bites into your shoulder drawing blood, using the very bloodied mouth to kiss your mouth to preach what he believes is true. you can't find any rational thought as to why you are letting a near stranger make his imprint guts deep, ready to paint your insides white. you want to argue against it, but you can't.

toji for the first time encourages your arriving orgasm, he does not pull out nor does he stop. instead he focuses on all your weak spots and gives them special attention so he can encourage you.

"come on sweetheart, make a mess on my cock. let me deliver you from your sins."

he holds you down, slamming against you loud and proud, the sounds of skin slapping the only noise left in your near static brain. you let him violate you but you also let him cleanse you. he holds your throat down as he spits in your mouth. you take it because you a good little thing in need of absolvement. toji likes to pretend that the way he is penetrating you is his way of showing you the way to salvation, you are not sure that it is just pretend.

he looks at you with near black eyes as he fucks you hard with a single thrust, burying himself so deep he covers your guts in his sacriligeous release. you reach your peak the same time he does but you realise he wasn't lying when he said he'd show you heaven.

you try to stay firm with your beliefs but the way your eyes see white like you can feel the winds from the pearly gates beconing to enter almost almost makes you change your mind. you've had sex before, you've made yourself cum before, you've thought for the longest time that you had achieved every kind of hedonistic depravity that is there on the planet.

yet, toji's cock nestled deep inside you while you mewled holding on to him, about how he was too big while in missionary stood taller than any sort of experience you thought you had. he kisses your tears away, gently pulling out as you begin to settle into peaceful slumber, mind void of any worries.

you no longer care that you left your home vulnerable to a religious stranger as you fall asleep, last thing you remember is a soft towel cleaning up the remnants of toji's spit and cum.

you wake up early in the morning as sunshine streams in through your blinds, leaving you alone in your empty bed. you get up on wobbly feet to find any sign that the man was ever in your home except for the bruises that covered your skin.

your eyes fall on your wallet thrown across your floor, and you drag your sorry self to pick it up. in place of the money that you had hard earned, you find a single white card with the words — for Our God will not judge the sexually immoral and adulterous and an address on the back.

[caramelpenguin]

Felice mouths a 'thank you' at Sara over the choir teacher's shoulder as she closes the door. This should hopefully give them atleast ten minutes, and if Sara can stall her for longer, maybe twenty.

She turns back to face the choir, her hands firmly planted on her hips. Felice isn't even close friends with most of these students, but right now, that doesn’t matter. If they’re going to pull this off, she needs as many as she can on board. Clearing her throat, she eyes them all slowly, "Do you all remember the song Simon wrote? That we performed once and never sang again?"

The room erupts in murmurs and whispers.

"You mean the one based on the school anthem?"

"Yes! That one."

Someone snorts from the back. "The one that's not even subtly about Wilhelm?"

"Exactly." Felice squares her shoulders. "What do we think about singing that version on the last day instead of the original? As a way of surprising Simon?"

There’s a pause, followed by a sharp voice from the front row. A girl with neatly braided hair and a skeptical expression raises her brow. "And why would we do that? There’s no real reason."

Oh, Felice is ready for this. She counts off on her fingers, her words measured but pointed. "First, this might be our last performance as a choir. Wouldn’t we rather do something meaningful for ourselves than just the boring school version? Second, we've all seen the horrible crap Simon’s had to deal with recently- it's awful. It’s the least we can do to show him we’re on his side." She pauses, letting her words sink in before delivering the kicker. "And finally—his version is way better than the original. You all know it."

The murmurs in the room shift, tinged with curiosity and a few nods of agreement.

Then, from the back, a new voice cuts through. "Yes," Felix says, his cheeks lightly flushed. Felice has noticed him glancing at Simon during rehearsals, expression soft in a way he probably doesn’t think anyone else sees. "I think that's a great idea."

His endorsement cracks the ice. Someone in the second row murmurs, "I mean, it is better than the original."

Another chimes in, "And Simon would definitely love it."

"He's a good guy. Amazing voice, too."

Felice thinks of the way Wilhelm talks about Simon - this boy who treats him with gentle touches and loves him in a way that he deserves, like he’s something precious. She thinks of Simon as a brother to Sara, unwavering and loyal and someone who's stuck by ,who's dealt with the harsh blows. She thinks of Simon with his loud opinions at the start of the year, unafraid to challenge what he felt was wrong.

That’s why this matters. This isn’t just about the song. It’s about Simon. About reminding him that he’s seen and valued and that what he’s brought to this group has meant something.

Felice looks around the room at the hesitant faces, at the whispers still swirling among the group, and lets her determination harden.

“Listen,” she says, her voice firm, “this isn’t about whether or not we get in trouble. It’s about doing something that actually means something. For Simon. For us. If you don’t want to do it for him, fine. Do it because this choir deserves to go out on a high note. And because we’re capable of more than just doing what’s expected of us.”

No-one speaks up to argue. Slowly, the students begin to shuffle into position, the energy in the room shifting. Someone hums the first note, and the familiar melody builds—hesitant at first, then stronger, richer.

[ravenwind-75]

If @heylorrain subjected me to pain and angst songs and said to go with the ideas I was given, I listened, hard. And so I have something for you. Sorry in advance.

Indigo:

~~~~~~

He was worried about her. She knew that. That she shouldn’t be here still. That she’d lose her way to the next place. Yet she lied to herself each day that she could find her way back to him. That this time her path would lead to life not death. She never should have left him, she never should have gone there when he asked her to leave his family to him.

Yet she did.

She wondered if her aura had changed. He used to say it was bright and brilliant. She used to feel it herself, the thrumming of life and power, of love. Now she felt colder, and lonely. It was so dark here in the in between. She didn’t know how the other ghosts did it. How they moved past it. The guilt.

Maybe it was time she finally went home, but she didn’t want to leave him here by himself. It wasn’t fair, why did they have to say goodbye? Why did she have to be dead and alone, leaving someone who needed her just as much and even more so?

…..

He gave her a piece of his heart and then tried to run from it. Run from her love. And when he finally accepted it he was so lost in the clouds of fear, he’d never seen that the sun would risk her light for him. Now he couldn’t feel her closeness, warmth at all.

When he heard the news his light had left him, his face paled. When her hand evaporated in his the clouds of his soul shed tears, bitter rain of sorrow.

Yet her death had given him some hope and faith that he could be free of them. That he’d be saved.

But at what cost? What kind of lesson was this?

Her death is my fault…

He’d lost his color. He lost his light. He lost his love.

….

She was the gold to his silver, the sun to his moon. He had never felt warmer than when he was in her presence. Soft curls wrapped around his fingers, her cradled against his chest, her lips pressed against his. She gave him the joy that he’d shared.

Now he was her warmth yet she couldn’t feel it. Just a wisp of frigid wind that made him shiver that he didn’t have the heart to tell to leave him alone. He wanted her warmth back, to feel her colorful aura.

Yet she begged him as he knelt on the cold stone floor, wand to his head, “Don’t take the life I fought to save. Live for me. You’ll come home to me someday. Patience remember? I can wait. Please!”

“I already feel dead so why can’t I join you?! I don’t want another sun to set without being by your side.”

But he’d stayed when she left. Many tears were shed when they said goodbye, one last brush of her hand on his cheek he felt her fade away, his wand pointed skyward doing nothing to sense her shape.

“Don’t say goodbye I’m right here. Please, I’m not leaving, not ever.” She’d said weeping softly.

He just smiled weakly, “Darling it’s better there. Go.”

It didn’t take long to convince her. Her spirit was tired. And they just kept painting each other darker.

He couldn’t move on with her here. And she got no rest. It was time to part ways with their ghosts.

“Goodbye Ominis.”

“Goodbye, my darling.”

…….

She’d loved the color indigo. She said it was what a twilight sky looked like. Where everything is half-lit and bathed in a hue between reality and a dream.

Maybe this is how indigo felt. Calm, sad and soft. An understanding, the deepest sense of peace yet a slow pain in the quiet isolation of her absence. On the edge of something unspeakable, untouchable.

A longing, a wish for connection out of reach, something impossible. Not a bright sadness but a certain kind of a melancholy that simply fades into the silence of darkness like the light of day.

Like she did.

His favorite color used to be gold, her brightness.

Now it was indigo.

Because In his dreams, when twilight came, she lived.

[rockstarhaechan]

sohn eric boyfriend headcanons

bf!eric, who will treat you like a princess and like you’re the only one he has eyes for.

bf!eric, who cares about what his members think about you so he often invites you over for dinner with everyone.

bf!eric, who wrote honey for you and convinced sunwoo to sing it with him because he wanted you to hear it.

bf!eric, who spends a lot of money on you saying “i want you to be happy”, but all you need is just him and nothing else.

bf!eric, who cuddles with your hoodie whenever you’re away or he’s on tour so he misses you less, at least he hopes it works.

bf!eric, who invites you to every music show or award show just to keep you close.

bf!eric, who accidentally used your moisturiser so he felt guilty and ordered you a whole skin care set.

bf!eric, who has you saved as “ most important person” in his phone.

bf!eric, who keeps talking about you to his mother, praising you and telling her how much he loves you and wants to marry you one day.

bf!eric, who calls you when he sees a bug in his room because he’s scared of them.

bf!eric, who sends you voice messages each day so you don’t forget his voice when he’s on tour.

bf!eric, who has you as his wallpaper.

bf!eric, who attends every concert with you so you don’t have to go alone.

bf!eric, who got you a spare key for his dorm so you can come and leave every time you want.

bf!eric, who keeps all “ootds” of you in a folder called ‘fashion inspiration’.

bf!eric, who got matching tattoos with you.

bf!eric, who always tells you how beautiful you are, even right after you woke up.

bf!eric, who often sends one of his members to help you cause he knows he can trust them more than anyone else when it comes to you and he knows they will keep you safe as well.

bf!eric, who cooks for you a lot.

bf!eric, who has a playlist just for you two to listen to.

bf!eric, who wouldn’t know what he would do without you, because you’re his whole life.

im back with the bf! series, if there’s any specific members of any groups you want me to do, let me know. my inbox is open for requests!

i’ve been into the boyz a lot lately, they’ve been curing my bad moods a lot recently…

i remember when i started this blog and said to myself that i won’t post for anyone else than nct, but here i am once again, after posting for ateez once and piwon and now also for the boyz and possibly even more groups :,)

[just-dreaming-marvel]

I'm Not That Girl ~ Bucky's Version

MAIN MASTERLIST / MARVEL MASTERLIST / MUSICAL INSPIRED FIC MASTERLIST

40's!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: 1,140ish

Request:  hi lovely!! i hope you're doing well! can i request 40s!bucky with i'm not that girl?  i love wicked sm haha i've seen it three times on broadway and am going to see the movie again once finals are over

Warning(s): unrequited love

“Hands touch, eyes meet

Sudden silence, sudden heat

Hearts leap in a giddy whirl

He could be that boy

But I’m not that girl”

Your heart was hammering against your chest as Bucky pulled you onto the dance floor. His smile was as big as ever, causing his eyes to shine and making you feel so lucky to be so close to him. If only you could always be this close to him.

“Come on, doll!” Bucky laughed. “Don’t make me to all the work!”

You smiled and began pulling your weight in the dance. Though the dance hall was crowded, it felt like it was just two of you. Almost anytime you spent with Bucky felt like that. The world around you both was silent and still, allowing you to lean too much into your heart.

“She’s here!” Bucky exclaimed, eyes locked on the entrance of the dance hall. “Y/N, she’s here!”

Your heart fell as he let you go and headed straight for the woman who held his heart. Dot.

“Don’t dream too far

Don’t lose sight of who you are

Don’t remember that rush of joy

He could be that boy

I’m not that girl”

“Hey, doll,” Bucky greeted with that smile heart-stopping smile. 

“Hey, Buck,” you responded. “What are you doing here?”

“Can’t a guy stop by to see his best girl?”

Best girl. You always felt joy when he called you that, causing you to push aside the true meaning of that title. You weren’t truly his best girl, but his best friend aside from Steve. 

“Plus, I need to talk to you,” he continued, stepping into your apartment. “I need some advice about Dot.”

“Oh, yeah, of course.” You took a deep breath as you closed the door, trying to reign in your emotions.

“I think I love her.”

Your hand fell from the handle of the door as your heart shattered. “Oh?” You turned around and headed into the kitchen to fix up a snack. You needed to focus on something else right now or you were going to lose it in front of Bucky.

“Yeah. She’s perfect, doll. Like… the best thing that’s every happened to me.”

“That’s great, Buck. What advice to you need?”

“I need to know how to tell her. How do I tell her that I love her? Do I get flowers? Tell her while dancing? Take her out to a fancy dinner—“

“Just tell her, Buck. No frills. If she loves you back, she just wants to know you love her. That’s all she cares about.”

“You think?”

You sighed. “I know."

“Every so often we long to steal

To the land of what-might-have-been

But that doesn’t soften the ache we feel

When reality sets back in”

Your dreams were the only place that the wishes of your heart came true. Bucky chose you. Bucky loved you. You were truly his best girl.

But then you would wake and remember the truth. Bucky loved Dot and Dot loved him. You were just someone in his life, for now.

It was the early morning and you had just woken up from one of your dreams when a knock sounded at your apartment door. When great caution, you went over and opened it. You were surprised to find Bucky standing on the other side. But even more surprised to find him in military uniform.

“Bucky?” You questioned. “What’s going on? What are you wearing?”

“I know that I should have told you sooner, doll,” Bucky’s voice was laced with guilt. “But I didn’t know how… I’m shipping out to England.”

“What? When?”

“Now.”

There was no point in stopping the tears.

“Hey, hey, please don’t cry,” he pled as he stepped closer, his hands coming up to hold your face. “You know I can’t stand to see my best girl cry.”

“You should’ve told me sooner,” you cried. “I deserved to know.”

“I know, I know… I just… I couldn’t stand the thought of saying goodbye to you.”

“Then don’t.”

He gave you a sad smile. “Can’t do that, doll. But… you can come see me off. I would really love it if my best girl was there.”

“Blithe smile, lithe limb

She who’s winsome, she wins him

Gold hair with a gentle curl

That’s the girl he chose

And Heaven knows

I’m not that girl”

Dot was sobbing as Bucky held her close. You and Steve stood to the side, watching the scene as military personal hurried around the shipyard. Other goodbyes were happening around you, almost allowing the scent of tears to fill the area. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Steve whispered. He was the only one who knew of your feelings. He had figured them out just by watching you.

“It’s fine,” you mumbled, keeping your eyes on the couple. “I always knew that I wasn’t Bucky’s type.”

“Y/N—“

“Don’t try to make me feel better, Steve. I really don’t want it.”

Your heart clenched as Bucky brushed Dot’s golden hair from her face and gave her a kiss. A stray tear slipped down your face and you quickly wiped it away.

“I can’t do this,” you whispered, turning around.

“Y/N!” Steve tried to keep you there, but you weaved through the crowd before he could.

“Don’t wish, don’t start

Wishing only wounds the heart

I wasn’t born for the rose and the pearl

There’s a girl I know

He loves her so”

You hoped that Bucky would write to you, but he never did. You heard that Dot was receiving letters and small gifts. Pressed flowers, poems, drawings, and a small pearl. Every time you got an update from Steve about Bucky it was due to his letters to Dot. It only hurt you further.

One day, Dot showed up at your apartment. You were curious and allowed her to come in.

“Bucky asked me to keep this a secret,” Dot explained as she seated herself on the couch. “But I know he didn’t keep any secrets from you and I just had to tell someone!”

“About what?” You questioned.

“Bucky sent a pearl in his latest letter. With the pearl, he asked me to marry him.” And you thought your life couldn’t get any worse. “Of course, I responded with a yes. We’re going to get married as soon as he returns.”

You pressed out a fake smile. “Congrats, Dot.” Your voice wobbled. “I’m happy for the two of you.”

“I knew you would be. I feel so much better now that someone knows.”

Dot didn’t stay much longer. It was a good thing, because you weren’t in a good place. As soon as she was gone, you had collapsed into a puddle of tears. Your dream was over. Bucky chose Dot over you. He loved her and not you.

“I’m not that girl”

[makemeimmortalwithahug]

courtesy of @ahyperactivehero 💜 who inspired me to start posting snippets of my F1 AU (this will happen once in a while, I hope lol)

---

“Why are you telling me this now?” Edwin blearily watches the alarm clock on his bedside table. The red digits change and change and change until they proclaim 03:47. Three minutes have passed and there is nothing between him and Rowland but breaths in the silence of their respective hotel rooms.

“I remembered our first race against each other there,” Rowland answers after an eternity. Edwin presses his phone a little harder against his cheek. The cold of the display keeps him awake, keeps him grounded.

“It wasn’t the first.” Not by a long shot. Edwin knew those brown curls and fiery eyes on track long before he knew what it felt like to share a podium with him.

“It was the first that mattered,” Rowland counters heatedly. 

“Is that so?”

“Bloody hell, Edwin, don’t act all high and mighty now.” Edwin is momentarily shocked by the sound of his first name coming out of Rowland’s mouth. It has been years. “Tell me you remember what you told me.”  

His voice has a watery quality to it now. He sounds washed out, as if the champagne of last Sunday wore down his last protective layer. 

“I was twelve,” he says. This does not explain anything. Yes, he was twelve. Yes, he does remember what he said. But he will not give Rowland the satisfaction of knowing that Edwin remembers such an inconsequential moment in their lives.

For a moment, Edwin thinks Rowland has hung up on him. He realises he is holding his own breath. This should not matter to him. He should be asleep, his flight leaves in less than six hours. And yet, he is still here, hanging onto every piece he can get out of Charles Rowland. 

Something cracks. “You know what, you’re right. It doesn’t matter, it was stupid. See you in Miami.” 

The line goes dead. 

Three hours later finds Edwin still awake.

[ayamari-no-goshi]

AU scene inspired by a convo with a friend this week:

After the end of UtRH, Bruce never told anyone about the revelation of who was under that helm (for this, the attack on Titan’s Tower never happens) and instructs Alfred to keep quiet.

Years go by, and Red Hood becomes nothing but a sidenote. Bruce doesn’t know what became of Jason, and is half convinced the person he fought wasn’t really his son. He keeps an ear out for rumors, but there are more important things to focus on.

Insert some elaborate scheme from the Joker where Bruce and at least Dick and Tim are there.

Joker: we have quite the little reunion here. Too bad we’re missing one of the little birds. Say, whatever happened to him after our last meeting, Batsy?

Dick, pissed: did he mean that little to you that you forgot you killed him?

Joker, grinning: oh? Didn’t daddy bats tell you? The little bird who’s darling mother sold him to me to save her own skin somehow crawled out of his grave and came back donning my old moniker. It was really something, let me tell you. Though I still can’t get over the leather. It’s not a choice I’d ever make

Dick, now processing the info about Jason’s mother, him coming back to life, and remembering a certain crime lord who appeared and disappeared mysteriously: if you forgot, the last time you mentioned him, I nearly killed you. I don’t appreciate the lies

Joker: no lies this time, boy blunder. Tell him Batsy

Bruce, after feeling Dick’s death glare: the crime lord, Red Hood, did claim to be the second Robin

Joker, tutting: now Batman, you know as well as I do that was your kid. And for all his posturing, that plan of his was an elaborate cry for help.

Tim, glancing between the Joker, Bruce, and Dick: what plan?

Bruce: he was going to kill the Joker, and I stopped him

Joker, cackling; it was so much more than that. He gave you three choices: 1) kill me 2) stop him from killing me or 3) walk away and let him kill me. I don’t know about you, but I’m pretty sure your little bird wanted to know if you valued me over him. I mean, you did leave him alone to chase after a truck you believed I was in the day he died, right?

Dick, to Bruce: you said you stopped him…?

Before Bruce can say anything, the Joker interrupts: oh! You should have seen it! He threw one of his Batarangs and sliced open his own kid’s neck! And then he just left him there to die as the entire building came down. But me? Ol’ Batsy made sure we can continue our dance. I can’t imagine how the kid felt knowing his father figure chose me over him for a second time

And this would be about when the Joker would be punched in the face.

[hurlumerlu]

Thicker than

A short THK fic

"I’ll explain later," said Kant, something Babe knew to translate by I’ll wait for you to forget about it. He didn’t see how he would, this time. "For now, just tell me you understood."

"I understood."

"So if Bison asks if you’re alright?"

"I say I managed to hide, and you found me before the bullies did."

"Good. Now tell it to me in different words."

"You know this isn’t my first lie, right? You don’t have to coach me through it."

"Humor me."

"I outran them and hid before you arrived."

"Good." Kant repeated. He wasn’t slowing down and it put Babe on edge: his brother didn’t rush, or more accurately never let it show when he did. Everything had been off since he’d asked for that phone call.

"What if I don’t play along?" That stopped Kant. When he turned, Babe almost took a step back. "I was only jo–"

"I’m sorry," Kant interrupted, "and it’s the last time I ask you something like this. But promise me you’ll lie."

"Yeah, okay. I’m not, like, allergic or any–"

"Promise me, Babe."

"I promise. You’ll explain later?"

"Sure. Let’s go, he must be there already."

The night got even weirder after that.

"Here’s what I still don’t get, though" said Babe. "You like him."

Kant sighed. "This ain’t really about me." A serious contender for Most Kant Answer Ever, though Babe hadn’t heard it in a while.

He set the dry plate on top of the others. "I think he likes you too."

"Believe it or not" – Kant was scrubbing a little too energetically. Babe had painted that glass when he was eight and, ugly as it was, his brother always washed it with the utmost care – "it ain’t really about him either."

That was a new one. Babe took the glass from Kant’s hand and rinsed it himself. "Who is it about, then?" Wet spoons were handed out to him without so much as a look. He hadn't even finished drying the glass. "Is this when you tell me that whatever you’re doing, you’re doing it for us?"

"You told me to stop saying that."

Babe remembered that argument. Of course, what he’d actually wanted was for his brother to stop thinking that way, but he’d thought that had been clear. Maybe it had been. He should still have been clearer.

"Are we not going to talk about the gun at all?"

"He’s had a rough life, you know." Kant replied in his worst parent-teacher meeting voice. "He just needs to unlearn a few things."

Babe gave up.

don’t wait 4 me tonite, said the text. leftovers in the fridge. If u want 2 invite Knot cool but no alcohol

Bison again? Babe texted back. He might not get an answer, but that wasn’t a reason not to try.

Well. A victory sign emoji was an answer, he supposed.

Where are you going?

😎.

Typical. Babe had read the work of some master wordsmiths, but he would never not be impressed by his brother’s ability to convey Mind your business without a word.

Have fun, then. If that’s indeed the goal.

In a true feat of human communication, the next 😎 he received felt even more pointed.

"Ah," said Kant. "You’re here."

"Sorry." Babe blinked against the flood of light. "Gave my bed to Knot. I didn’t think you’d come home tonight." Kant’s sheets didn’t smell like him – he had changed them this morning – but there was an undeniable comfort to sleeping in his room. And it was miles better than laying awake next to Knot, wondering what amount of incidental contact you could get away with before you fell into creep territory. "You had a good time?"

"Hm."

Kant hadn’t moved, fingers still on the lightswitch. He was, technically, looking at Babe. It didn’t feel like he was looking at anything at all.

Babe got up, feet against the cool floor. "Kant?" But he couldn’t ask are you okay: Kant always replied yes. "Is Bison alright?"

When he got pulled into a hug, Babe didn’t resist. He had so many questions, the list ever growing, yet with his brother clinging to him like this – like he hadn’t done in years, like it would be the last time, like a drowning man struggling to stay afloat – he knew he wouldn’t voice any of them.

He closed his eyes, inhaled, and clung back.

[redlancey]

I hate people slandering Caitlyn for this because your telling me if someone killed your mother (breaking your family apart bc now ur dad is depressed and resentful and distant) (oh and now you have to carry the burden of being the face of your family’s house) (oh and ur only like 20) (OH and that someone was the deranged sister of your situation-ship who kidnapped you [and did god only knows what else while she had you tied up for hours] and you watched her shoot the missile) you WOULDN’T turmoil into rage and hurt and ache (because remember, you’re the new face of your family house, so you have to be strong in the face of this terrorist attack, and the only person who you feel comfortable enough with is the sister of the woman who KILLED YOUR MOTHER) and want revenge?! (Which, and I can’t stress this enough, it feels like you’ve been the victim of this deranged Zaunite for so long because you saw her steal one of the crystals, you almost got stranded in Zaun surrounded by shimmer addicts and almost kidnapped by Silco, finally found the criminal, lost her, then got returned to the bridge only for the sherif to hold you at gun point, then the criminal attacks AGAIN, then your situationship leaves you, THEN you get fucking KIDNAPPED from your shower by the woman, tied up for hours, gun held to your head, watched the woman kill Silco, tell your situationship to kill YOU, finally get a shot on the woman but you don’t take it, get knocked out, and when you finally wake up it’s to the image of the tower where your mother is getting a missile launched into it. THEN, while your still grieving and hurting, the memorial for your mother is attacked by more zaunites [even if it’s not the same woman, it still pushes the knife even deeper])

Idk. I don’t have a good relationship with my mother. But if I did, I’d probably go fucking crazy too.

But also, the same people who hate Caitlyn with a passion for her crimes are the same to launch into debates defending everything Jinx has done.

The whole point of the show is no one is right. Technically you can justify every characters actions. Morality is grey throughout the show, and it really illustrates how classism and poverty and privilege impacts everyone.

I love Ekko. I think he was within his right to be wary of Caitlyn. However, Caitlyn’s swat team specifically targeted Chem Barons (who, we see in one of the first sequences of the show started a gang war over trying to rise to the same power that Silco had, and these gang wars ravaged the undercity to the point of children [Isha, for example] living in fear and constantly in the run bc of the risk of being killed by these gangs) and Jinx. That’s it.

I will say, she does show her own dark side when she risks shooting Isha to kill Jinx, but I know that had she had killed Isha, she would’ve felt so much grief once her adrenaline had calmed down.

I saw people talking about this and one of my favourite arguments that someone (I forget who) made was something along the lines of: “Caitlyn assembled a small team of enforcers who were close to her and she trusted to follow her instructions, and perused the underground in a private investigation to find Jinx, shut down Shimmer (and any other chems, we can presume) and to “neutralize any agents still loyal to Silco” (the chem barons who are vying for the power gap Silco left). Meanwhile Ambessa was planning on declaring full on martial law (most likely what we see in act 2 and 3 after Caitlyn’s swat team failed and Ambessa manipulated her) which would’ve been devastating for the undercity, especially all of the innocents.

Caitlyn just wanted justice, but Ambessa wanted to conquer.”

While Ekkos argument makes sense, from his perspective, I will always defend Caitlyn till the day I die 🗣️🗣️💆🏻‍♀️💆🏻‍♀️

Thinking about how ekko is probably going to hate vi and caitlyn to the point he may never forgive them when he finds out what they did when looking for jinx

Because

Yeah

She proved him right

And vi did exactly what he was afraid of and helped.

[zaddyazula]

for the last 6 months i’ve been suffering the repercussions of separating myself from femininity since i was 6 years old

[valewritessss]

I’ve seen someone say that Sally was selfish and inconsiderate for telling Percy they need his room for Estelle???