#if anything in so happy hes his own person now??

[mixingandmelting]

I loved your posts about how the batboys act when they’re crushing on the reader, and I was wondering if you had any hcs on any questionable habits they’d have when crushing on the reader. I’d imagine bc it’s Gotham city and it’s dangerous they’d be quite protective they’d probably know what route you take to work, when you get home, etc. or really just anything else stupid or weird they’d do if they liked you 😂

Dick: Surprise

Up from where he’s perched on the roof, he coos at seeing your eyes snap right then to left.

“Just a step closer to the street lamp…” He mumbles, his patience already running thin in anticipation and excitement. And, bingo, you’re right where he wants you.

Pressing send on his phone, he quietly jumps down and lands right behind you as you stand there, checking the text you just received.

“What does he want now?” You grumble your breath, not all realizing the head that leans over your shoulder and stays right next to your ear.

“Who wants what now?”

“Eek!”

For a minute, it’s silent. Your face beet red with a hand covering your mouth. His eyes on you in disbelief. Then:

“Pfft-“

He bursts out laughing, laughing even harder when you smack his arm and tell him to shut up.

“Dick!”

“That’s my name.” He quickly tilts his head, dodging your fist.

It can’t be helped, him teasing you like this. He’s a vigilante in love, head over heels for you to where he changed his patrol route so it would be timed when you leave work and he could follow you around with the excuse that he’s doing his job whenever he gets caught by you. Surprise attacks? He tells you it’s his way of making sure you have your guard up when it’s actually a small bonus for himself since your reactions always manage to send warmth and happiness down his spine, knowing your attention is on him.

Also how else would he be able to spend more time with you on a daily basis?

Jason: Weaponry

Same time, same place. He blankly stands in front of the glass shelf, mentally debating what to get you.

He’s been playing bodyguard, walking you from work to your place every night (sometimes following you when he’s being Red Hood but you didn’t need to know that) only to find out up to earlier today, you were walking in the city with the highest crime rate in the dead night and unarmed.

“Do you even know any self defense? Own self-defense?”

“No…? Why would I?” The urge to facepalm felt so real, questions on how you got it this far in his mind.

“Have you… ever considered…?”

“Why when I have you?”

…Fuck.

He rubs his face with hand, trying to smother out the flames blazing under his cheek. Whether it was intentional or not, he hasn’t figured out yet. What he does know is that you’re so smooth and cheeky, mostly likely unaware how the simplest things you do can affect him so much. Precious and so darn cute that it becomes another reason for him to worry about you from the desire of needing to protect you and your adorableness in case anyone else were to notice and snatch you away because of it.

The shopkeeper's bell rings and his hand holds a plastic bag for a change when he exits the store. A pepper spray, a switchblade - some beginner friendly stuff. He was on the fence with the personal alarm that’s disguised as a keychain considering he already had a tracker on you just in case. But having another one might not be so bad, right?

Tim: Social stalking

“Amateurs.” He snorts to himself, listening to his siblings’ conversation over the coms.

The whole following around the city is such an old classic. GPS tracking with the latest cutting-edge technology? Sure, it’ll help with keeping track, finding places to go and, maybe, where to eat on the next hang out. But the real way to do things is to do what he does: follow every social.

Snapchat, Facebook, hell even Pinterest and Tumblr, he follows you on, your socials a cornucopia of your likes and dislikes whether it’s current or in the past. How else would he have known to get you Elden Ring or that one hoodie you’ve been eyeing the past few days? Also, did you really think it was a coincidence that he’d bring up going to that one new bakery last week during the time you suddenly craved for baked goods?

The best part about it is how he’s still connected to you even when he’s not physically there and can’t text you. Reading and liking every post you make about your day fills his heart, saving any photo you take on to his phone with a dopey smile especially if it’s of you. You’re just a button away rather than miles, making him think about you constantly.

So he mutes everyone on his end and goes back to the problem at hand, that is figuring out how to become mutuals. After all, you don’t know that he knows and follows you. But he really wants to comment on your posts, especially on the latest featuring you in a Red Robin hoodie while fanning over it in the caption.

Duke: Light fluctuation

Small orbs of light surround the two of you as you both walk through Gotham Park on a summer night.

“Woah, look at all these fireflies! I think it’s the most I’ve seen so far!” Your eyes sparkle, smiling with childish glee and excitement.

“Y-yeah, it sure does…”

Mentally, he screams. He’s sweating bullets, begging everything in the universe that you didn’t hear his voice crack.

It became a thing now where every time he’s with you, he’d subconsciously emote through his powers. Just the other day, he had to distract you from looking down at your shadow because there were heart-shaped shadows surrounding yours. Last week was worse. He was on patrol, saw you, and started glowing like a glow-stick. A fucking glow-stick. The only saving grace for that incident was the sun coincidentally shining behind him when he waved at you though he didn’t appreciate the texts he got in the group chat asking why he was emitting light brighter than said star.

Now there’s this, his powers completely filling the park. At least there are actual fireflies blinking here and there in between but he’s pretty sure ninety-percent of those lights are from him.

seeing you haven’t suspected anything, he starts to unwind and enjoy the walk. Until his phone vibrates.

A hand over his face, he groans when it’s a text from Bruce, annoyance turned into horror at the news clip his mentor has sent him asking if he knew anything about the light-dome phenomenon that’s occurring.

“Duke, you good…? You don’t look great…”

“Just peachy.” His voice pitched, struggling to suppress his tears of despair.

Damian: Following around

He refuses to be slandered by Drake. Unlike the other who failed to trick his team members with a stupid disguise (like seriously, the best name he could make up was Mr. Sarcastic?), he was able to follow the son of Superman undetected by acting as the latter’s substitute teacher AND bus driver

Also, the older male does realize they do this all the time regardless of civilians or criminals alike, right? It’s nothing much different to that. If anything , it’s killing two birds with one stone where he’s able to observe you while being available to protect you if anything were to happen by following you around.

It can’t be helped, when, in his opinion, you’re not aware of your surroundings. It’s one thing for you to not realize that he likes you but it's another when One too many times, there would be someone getting too touchy with you for his liking leading him to have to them away.

Hence the current situation where he’s leaning against a tree and putting away the mini sketchpad with another completed sketch of you in it.

“What’s so great about that book anyways?” He grumbles as he watches you read the same book the fifth time this week at the stump of the same tree he’s on.

He startles when you suddenly snap the book close.

“Da- Robin, I know you’re in the tree.”

“Tt.”

Dammit. He got caught again. With that, he jumps down while preparing to face your annoyance. At least you’re thinking this is the first time, neither denying or confirming how many times he’s done it so far.

[kxsagi]

Hi!!!

I’ve literally been binge reading all your works for a few days and I just have to say your writing is really good. I love the way you write Sae and Isagi (my favs) i’m not one to request things but I wanted to try it for once

Would you be able to write the bllk boys (Sae and Isagi + whoever else you want) having an s/o who smokes/vapes. Whether it’s a habit that the reader had before the relationship or picked it up at some point. I saw something similar a long time ago and I’ve been thinking about it ever since.

That’s all and I’ll say it again. I LOVE your works so much

"𝐠𝐨𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐝 𝐚 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐤"

a/n: hi hi! thank you so much for your kind words and your request, i can’t express my gratitude enough! 

i wasn't exactly comfortable with the idea of writing about reader who vapes/smokes because i really don’t condone that for personal/health reasons, and it’s totally not your fault because i didn’t say anything about that in my request rules. 

if it’s okay, i did change the plot a little to headcanons about how you take out flavored chapstick and the boys think it’s a vape instead. thank you for your understanding 🥹🫶

ft. isagi yoichi, itoshi rin, nagi seishiro, mikage reo, shidou ryusei, itoshi sae, kaiser michael, ness alexis

isagi yoichi

you pull something out of your pocket and bring it to your lips. 

he does a double take. 

“wait, are you vaping?” 

you blink at him, confused, then turn the chapstick around to show the label: cotton candy swirl. 

“it’s lip balm, yoichi.” 

he turns bright red. 

“… oh.” 

two minutes later he’s looking it up online like “is secondhand chapstick a thing?” 

itoshi rin

you apply your peach-flavored lip balm while walking next to him. 

he stares. hard. 

“are you seriously vaping right now?” 

you pause mid-swipe. 

“rin. it’s chapstick.” 

“… oh. it smells fake.” 

he walks faster, annoyed for no reason, like your lips having moisture is a personal attack. 

later, when you kiss him, he mumbles, “still tastes like chemicals.” 

but doesn't pull away. 

nagi seishiro

he sees you reapplying your cherry lip balm and just stares. 

“… yo. can i try it?” 

“my chapstick?” 

“oh, i thought it was a vape... can i still try it?” 

you kiss his cheek. 

“… that works,” he shrugs, leaning on your shoulder half-asleep. 

the next day you catch him putting it on himself. when you ask why, he just says, “too lazy to buy my own. plus yours tastes like candy.”

mikage reo

reo catches you applying your lip balm during a water break. 

“hey, wait a sec. you vape now?” 

you stare at him. 

“reo. babe. it’s lip balm.” 

he squints, takes it, reads the label: birthday cake blast. 

“… why is this so dramatic?” 

he puts it on to prove a point and instantly grimaces. 

“why do your lips taste like a party store???” 

shidou ryusei

he sees you apply it and immediately goes: “damn. you hitting that cotton candy cloud-9000 or what?” 

you: “it’s chapstick?” 

shidou: “hell yeah it is. that’s your vape now. you’re one of us.” 

he starts calling you “vape queen” ironically. tries to put stickers on your lip balm. 

you catch him mimicking you in the mirror later, dramatically applying your watermelon twist like it’s a ritual. 

itoshi sae

you pull out your lip balm, swipe it across your lips, and keep walking. 

he catches a glimpse and immediately frowns. 

“are you really vaping now?” 

you blink, confused. 

“what? no, it’s chapstick.” 

he raises an eyebrow, skeptical. 

“mmm, sure.” 

later, he catches you applying it again, this time on the couch. 

you watch his eyes narrow, and before you know it, he’s grabbed the chapstick, inspecting the label like it’s evidence in a crime scene. 

“watermelon sugar rush?” he smirks, “yeah, that’s definitely a vape.” 

you sigh, shaking your head. 

“you’re ridiculous.” 

“i’m just trying to keep you out of trouble, love,” he grins. "but hey, if it makes you happy..." 

he gives it back and casually walks off. 

you swear he’s the most suspicious about it out of anyone. 

kaiser michael

you pull out your vanilla shimmer gloss stick and swipe it across your lips. 

he raises an eyebrow. “seriously? in public?” 

“liebe, it’s lip balm.” 

“sure it is,” he smirks. “next thing you’ll tell me is you don’t run an underground vape ring.” 

you smack his arm. he just laughs. 

later steals it and puts it on just to annoy you. 

“what? if you're gonna taste like cupcakes, i might as well match.” 

ness alexis

gasps like you just committed a crime. 

“you’re vaping? now?? in front of me???” 

you: “alexis baby, it’s literally called ‘jellybean kiss balm.’” 

ness: “... oh.” 

immediately goes, “can i try it?” like he didn’t just accuse you of corrupting the youth. 

starts using it so often you have to buy a second one. 

calls it “our shared little secret” every time and winks. you consider throwing it out. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[sergeantbuckybarnes]

i know love // joaquin torres

Summary: Having been raised in the Red Room, people would expect you to be ruthless and cold. Your vulnerability surfaces when a conversation topic is brought up during dinner, and you need to have a difficult conversation with Joaquín.  

Pairing: Joaquin Torres x Ex-Widow!Reader

Word count: 2k

Warnings: mentions of brainwashing and killing, mentions of reader having an involuntary hysterectomy in the red room, mentions of dreykov, reader doesn't know how to deal with her emotions, mentions of adoption, angst, hurt/comfort, but a happy ending!!

A/N: As always, remember English is not my first language. Also, thanks to @heybaynoot for proofreading this!

This is my first time writing for Joaquín, I probably got him OOC a bit, but hope you guys like this one! Oh, and I have more in store for Joaquín & BlackWidow!Reader so stay tuned!

marvel masterlist | main masterlist

It was an offhand comment.

This wasn’t something you should be overthinking.

Any other woman in your situation would have been thrilled. And that was the problem—you weren't like other women. And no, this wasn't meant to be a compliment.

Your childhood and adolescence hadn’t been the most conventional. You knew it hadn’t been your fault; you never had a say in anything, yet it didn’t undo the knot in your stomach nor make the nightmares go away.

It had only been a few years since you'd begun to get your life back on track. Or, well, to build your own. One that actually felt like yours, where you were more than just the prisoner of a rich sadist.

When Yelena found you and freed your mind from their control, you were lost. Waking up was difficult. Facing the reality around you was puzzling, and you struggled with understanding your true identity. 

But that was ages ago. 

You have got your life on track since then.

And everything was going well. You could say you were happy for the first time in a long time. A fundamental pillar of that happiness was thanks to Joaquin.

When Sam introduced you, you never thought he would become such an important part of your life. Falling in love with him wasn't in your plans, but it had happened. And it was quite simple. That was one of the long list of special things about Joaquín—loving him was so easy.

From the first moment, you noticed the brightness he radiated. He was funny, kind, sweet, and smart. He had a charming personality, and it was literally impossible not to smile when he was around—and you weren't someone who was used to smiling, not before him at least.

He knew who you were and what you had done, and it had never been an issue for him. To be honest, his reaction when he met you was something you hadn't expected. He was thrilled and excited to officially meet an ex-widow. And, despite his obvious curiosity, he never asked anything about the Red Room. You assumed it was out of respect; perhaps he did not want you to remember Dreykov, the training, and the brainwashing.

And the killing.

And you had to admit you were delighted that the subject was never brought up.

He still complimented your fighting skills. Like, all the time. Looking like a proud boyfriend every time you kicked someone's ass. 

There was a moment, early in your relationship, when you realized it was him. You had never known love before—not that kind. And Joaquin's was the best first experience you could have asked for. You had been certain that he was going to be your first and last. You didn't want anyone else. Because no one would ever make you feel the way he did.

But now everything has crumbled.

Because of a single comment.

“We're going to have the cutest babies.”

The words had rolled off his tongue so easily.

And they had stabbed your heart in the same way.

Sarah had smiled at his words, Sam had rolled his eyes and made a witty remark, while you pressed your lips into a thin smile, and the conversation at the table just continued on.

But you couldn't shake off the feeling.

In all the time you had been dating Joaquín, the topic of having children had never been brought up. You thought it was because he knew. And he was being the considerate, thoughtful gentleman he was.

But now you were thinking that maybe Joaquín didn't know everything you went through in the Red Room.

You had the image of his happy face burned into your brain when he made the baby comment, and it only intensified the knotting in your stomach.

This happened two weeks ago, and since then, your mind has not stopped spinning in a whirlpool of thoughts and feelings. You didn't know how to deal with the situation. Well, technically, you did; you knew you had to talk to Joaquín. If the future he had planned for himself was to have a family, it was clear he was not going to have that with you.

You rubbed your eyes as you let out a grunt of resignation. You'd tried your best to leave the past behind you, just for it to come back, knocking on your door and hitting you with a harsh reminder that happiness was a luxury you couldn’t yet afford.

Something was going on.

And Joaquin had noticed this. 

You'd been acting odd, distant even, and he couldn't figure out why.

Had he done something that irked you?

Despite living together, over the past two weeks, you’ve been coming up with excuses to avoid spending time together, skipping your regular morning coffee dates, and missing movie nights. Even during your training sessions, your conversations felt minimal and strained.

But what hurt him the most was that whenever he attempted to reach out for you, you recoiled from his touch—something you never did before. 

You had always loved his clinginess. He felt the need to have a hand on you constantly. While other people had considered it annoying in the past, it never seemed to bother you. On the contrary, it seemed like you yearned for his touch just almost as he longed for yours.

When he mentioned the situation to Sam, the reaction he got was that he was reading too much into it and that maybe you just needed to have some space.

“Have you talked to her about it?”

No. He hadn’t. Because he was afraid he would get the answer his brain was already conjuring up. 

And he wasn’t ready for it.

Not that it mattered, because you started the conversation yourself that afternoon.                               

A sense of relief washed over him as he noticed you standing in the living room of your shared apartment.

Everything may be okay after all. 

Perhaps Sam was right, and you just needed space. 

However, the happiness was wiped from his face when he noticed the expression on your face, followed by the dreadful words, “We need to talk.”

Joaquín felt the air escape from his lungs. A lump formed in his throat as your words echoed in his head.  

‘We need to talk’. 

Those words almost always came before terrible news.

He searched your face for clues, any hint that this time might be different, but the seriousness in your eyes revealed everything he feared. 

“Can we sit down, please?” 

Joaquín nodded, swallowing hard as he followed you to the couch. You sat across from him, your hands clasped tightly in your lap, a subtle sign of your own unease. The cushions felt too soft, and indulgent as if mocking the tension between the two of you.

“I’ve been thinking a lot these past few weeks…” You began, your voice quivering slightly, and he felt a surge of fear grip his heart. “I know you had noticed that I had pushed you away, and I—”

The words sent a shiver down his spine. A flicker of emotion crossed your eyes—a mix of determination and sadness—that sent a twist through his stomach.

You'd rehearsed this conversation in your head, every word, but now that you had your boyfriend in front of you, your mind had gone completely blank. Your eyes drank in how worried he was; you hated yourself for doing this to him.

You took a deep breath, the kind that tried to draw in all the courage you could muster. “Remember two weeks ago when we had dinner with Sam and Sarah?” 

He furrowed his brow in confusion. Of all the things his mind had conjured up, you mentioning the dinner at Sarah's was not among them. However, he nodded and gestured for you to go on. 

“Sarah said something about AJ and Cass and then you mentioned that we were gonna have the cutest babies, and I—” 

God, this hurt so much.

Each word you spoke felt like a dagger piercing his chest, and made his heart sink further. The lump in his throat seemed to grow even bigger. “Is that what this is about? You don’t want to build a family with me?”

His words hit you like a ton of bricks—of course, Joaquín would assume he was the problem. You swallowed hard, struggling to find the right words. “No, it's not that I don't want to.” You exhaled, forcing the words out, your heart racing. “It's just…”

Joaquin leaned forward, squinting in a fervent plea for clarity. The concern on his face was palpable.

“I thought you knew about this, and that’s why you never brought the subject up…” You took a deep breath and finally uttered the words weighing heavily inside you. “I can’t have kids, Joaquin.”

“In the Red Room, they had this graduation ceremony…They sterilized us. One less thing to worry about, I guess.” You grimaced, your hands fidgeting instinctively—a nervous habit you couldn't recall developing. “For Dreykov, that was what mattered even more than a mission. It made everything easier. Even the killing.”

He struggled with the truth of what you said, and the world around him dimmed for a minute. 

“I've fought to put that part of my life behind me, and I don't want to be the burden that holds you back from having the life you want.”

“You're not a burden to me.” He moved closer and took one of your hands in his own, his thumb softly stroking patterns on the back of your hand. “What I want is you—just as you are. A future without you holds no interest for me.”

Emotions you had suppressed for so long started to overwhelm you, and tears filled your eyes. “I don't want to put you in that position. I want you to be happy.”

“But I am happy with you,” he replied, with a resolute tone.

“What if one day you change your mind?”

Joaquín leaned in, his eyes blazing with a sharp intensity that sliced through the fog of doubt that shrouded you. “I swear to you, my mind is made up. And it starts and ends with you.”

He cupped your face gently, wiping away a tear. You closed your eyes in contentment, leaning into his touch. 

You had missed it so much.

You had missed him. 

“I love you.”

“I love you, too,” you murmured, gazing into his chocolate-brown eyes. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

For the first time in two weeks, Joaquín found himself smiling—truly smiling. 

He pulled you closer, draping his arms around your shoulders. You buried your face in his chest, inhaling in his familiar scent, while he tightened his embrace around you, afraid that you would slip away.

He had missed you.

“Please, don’t push me away again,” he pleaded softly, his voice muffled as his face rested against your head. “Those were the worst two weeks of my life.”

“I’m sorry.” You pulled back slightly. “I don’t know how to deal with my emotions well, but I’m trying, I promise.”

“I know you are. And I’m here for you if you need me. We’ll work through it together. We’re a team, remember?”

As you listened to him, you felt a weight lift off your shoulders. The fear that had gripped you for weeks started to fade.

“And we can always consider adoption,” he suggested, his eyes lighting up at the idea. “There are so many kids out there in need of a caring home. We can give them a shot at a better life.”

“I like that idea,” you said quietly, a timid smile emerging through the lingering traces of your tears.

“Good.” His hand found yours again, his fingers easily interlacing with yours. A wave of tranquility enveloped you, and for the first time in weeks, it felt as though you could breathe. You rested your head against his shoulder, settling into him and finding comfort in the calming thud of his heartbeat.

“Thank you for being so understanding. I don't deserve you.”

“Don't say that,” he said, lifting your chin, making you meet his eyes. “You deserve all the love and happiness in the world. And I'm not going anywhere.”

With that, he leaned into you, his lips softly brushing against yours, and in that instant, everything felt right again. The outside world faded, enveloping you in your warm little cocoon of comfort and understanding.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hiiihoo ! I'd like to request for some hcs between (netflix) dante and a tall s/o? Like close to his height who feels insecure about it sometimes

Ty for your time and have a nice day!

Dante loves that your both the same height!

he loves that he doesn't have to lean down or anything to compensate for your diffrence in height.

he could easily kiss any aspect of your face or rest his forehead against your own and stare into your eyes for a prolonged time.

his favourite things to do from time to time whenever he got affectionate, which was basically anytime you were nearby.

he's naturally a physically affectionate person but knew his boundaries and if he was being too much, not that was ever a case for you

so when he finds that you were insecure about being tall on the odd occasion when someone dares point it out, only to be a dick about it then he's more then ready to be of comfort.

'you're the perfect height.' he says softly as he holds you in his arms. 'besides height is not something we can easily alter anyways but people choose to act like it is says alot about their characters.' he adds.

'what does it say about them dante?' you asked him, head buried in his neck as his hands rubbed up and down your back soothingly.

'it just goes to show that they're projecting their insecuries and problmes on everyone else who's remotely happy with themsleves and their lives becuase they could never be happy with their own.' dante tells you truthfully.

'so why should you listen to them when you're perfectly happier as yourself,' he smiles at you when you lift your head from his neck, kissing your forehead and nuzziling your nose with his onw affectionately, 'because i like you the way you are and wouldn't dare ask you to chage a single aspect of yourself.'

'you mean it?' you aksed him, starting to feel slightly better. 'that you like me, height and all?'

'especially height and all sweetheart, make no mistake about that.' dante guarentees as he pecks your lips multiple times that you couldn't help but start to laught against his lips, his goofy affection making you forget the events of the day prior as though by magic.

though you guessed that was just the magic of Dante and his ability to make you seemingly forget anything and everything that might attempt to bring you down, only for him to uplift you and make you smile once more.

and you couldn't help but love and thank him for that, for being someone that you could lean on and cry while he reminds you that most of people's issues reside in themsleves and their lack of insight, but while making you laugh about the times he almost lost a limb doing the most stupid shit known to man and demon kind.

'thank you dante.' you said as you gave him a little kiss on the lip as he smiles, showing his sharp canines of his.

'don't thank me sweetheart, im just merely reminding you of your worth, reminding you to never take anyone seriously and just let their words slide off of you like water off a duck's back.' dante tells you, kissing the tip of your nose before adding. 'now lets treat oursleves by sharing a strawberry sundae shall we?'

and a nice strawberry sundae you both had, the sweet treat was healing to say the least.

[llamagoddessofficial]

@interactive-fiction-ideas - thank you for commissioning a headcanons post!!! I've missed doing these.

"What would it be like, for Nightmare and Dream (and their respective gangs), if there was a truce and Nightmare became uncorrupted? I was thinking that Nightmare still has some lasting physical and mental side effects from the corruption."

This is a long one, so most of it has gone below the cut.

For reference - I imagine all of them are currently living in one place. Probably a condition of the truce is that Nightmare and his gang aren't allowed free reign of the multiverse anymore.

Nightmare... really isn’t happy about looking like his ‘passive’ self again. When he looks in the mirror, he feels sickened by what he sees. It’s the face of the person he spent years running from. The massive crack in his skull hasn’t healed, and now that there’s no corruption to cover it, he’s resorted to fashioning all kinds of ways to hide that side of his head - bandages, masks, custom engraved coverings. He misses being able to hold multiple things with his tentacles, or grab things without having to stand. Other than his skull, his time corrupted has left some physical remnants; he's a little taller than he once was, and his bones are greyish and dark at the joints, as if stained. He wears exclusively modest and body-covering clothing to disguise the maks. He’s definitely mellowed, now that the Corruption has gone. He’s less cruel, less explosive, less malicious. But “passive” is certainly the wrong word; don’t mistake his quietness for weakness. He's not afraid of anything anymore, and he won’t take the same shit he once did. He rarely smiles, he’s quiet, he keeps to himself and his old crew. There's a sharp glint in his eyelights when he feels annoyed or threatened. His time corrupted has left more than just physical marks. He told Killer, Dust and Horror that they were free to go, if they wished. But they stayed. He says nothing about it, of course, because it’s not in any of their natures to express their real emotions... but he’s never been more grateful. He couldn’t imagine dealing with all this change alone.

Dream is obviously a lot happier about the current state of affairs than Nightmare is. He’s achieved his goal, he’s gotten what he’s been fighting for all this time. The war is over! Nightmare has been ‘saved’ from the corruption and the multiverse is safe! 

Dream and Nightmare’s new relationship is, unintentionally, a touch comical. Dream, the eternal ray of sunshine that he is, is delighted at his brother's return to 'normal'. He’s determined to forge a new sibling dynamic and show Nightmare that he’s been forgiven and can start anew. He's friendly to a fault. He likes setting up activities that everyone can do together, to get to know each other and get past their old differences; movie nights, game tournaments, supervised trips out to town, etc. Nightmare, confused by Dream’s bright sunny attitude after almost a lifetime of trying to kill each other, goes along with it to honour the truce - but doesn’t much care for being surprise hugged.  ... It’s not all sun, though. Dream’s dealing with his own demons now. He hoped beyond hope that the Corruption and Nightmare were two different people, he wanted to just wipe the slate clean and forget the pain. But he’s gradually realising that it was his brother behind the wheel during all those atrocities, all that killing. He's so tired but now, it's clear that all the damage can’t simply be ignored... there's so much more work to do. Though he knew in the back of his mind things would never truly go back to the way they were, he's still struggling to fully confront that fact - and he’s struggling to comprehend that the monster he was fighting all those years is the same person he fought so hard to get back. The moments where the happy mask slips are the moments when he and Nightmare get the closest they ever could to real reconciliation.

Blue is confused. Is he a famously strong, kind and forgiving person, even in the face of great evil? Yes. Is he happy they’re all no longer at each other’s throats all the time? Of course, it’s nice to know the war is over. ... But it’s bizarre to see everyone acting so friendly, after everything that happened. Dream tries to hug Nightmare, Nightmare holds him away by putting his hand on Dream’s face, everyone can't help but laugh. And Blue is sweating. Did they all forget that barely a year ago they were genuinely trying to kill each other? Did they all suddenly forget that he and Ink and Dream used to talk about these skeletons like mad dogs that needed to be put down? Sure, forgiveness is great. But why is nobody acting like this whole truce is absolutely nuts? Blue is the one who helps Dream work through his emotions about everything. He keeps him grounded, tethers him to reality, reminds him that things won’t instantly go back to how they were. He reminds Dream everyone will need time to heal. He’s honestly quite surprised by how naive Dream can be when it comes to his brother; in most other things, Dream is incredibly strategic and excellent at predicting people. But Nightmare is Dream’s big blind spot. He also finds himself in a strange not-quite-friendship with Dust.

Dust is only one who’s as clearly confused as Blue is about the current state of affairs. The only one who apparently remembers that Nightmare is a MASS MURDERER and this whole tenuous peace is incredibly weird. When Dream acts like everyone is besties, it's Blue and Dust who share the concerned glances. The two end up with a confusing little bro bond, often ending up standing away from the group together. Dust is confused. Very confused. He's gone from working for Nightmare kinda unwillingly, to playing peace kinda unwillingly. But like... what else has he got? It’s not like he has a home to go back to. It’s not like he has anyone else. Though he can’t stand any of the people that now frequent his life, the thought of leaving Killer and Horror and Nightmare behind made him feel strangely sickened. So he’s... lingering. Wandering around, looking for something to do, sleeping a lot and wondering if this is his life forever now. This weird pendulum swing has left him back in a position that’s equally as unusual as before. Only now, he’s ‘not allowed’ to kill. Whatever, I guess? It’s fine by him. The less work he has to do, the better. His strange camaraderie with Blue provides him a source of entertainment. He finds himself enjoying Blue’s company more than he probably should considering they've attempted to dust (haha) each other a few times. He likes that Blue doesn’t overtly judge him for his past, but equally, he doesn't pretend it didn’t happen - Blue isn't naive about it, he knows he’s ‘hanging out’ with a mass murderer. The honesty keeps things easy. Blue, Horror and Dust end up spending a lot of time together. Dust likes how patient Blue is with Horror.

Killer misses murdering but he’s really, really liking the messiness and confusion of the current state of affairs, it’s so much fun to watch everyone squirming. Killer is openly friendly to Dream and Blue, which is incredibly confusing to them - Dream nervously accepts the friendliness, Blue not so much. When Dream comes up with his 'activities’, Killer's often the most excitable and open to the concept, even more so than Blue. He convinces the others to join in. His enthusiasm is much appreciated by Dream and they have some friendly banter every now and then. ... But it’s also completely clear to everyone in the room that if something changed, and Nightmare decided he wanted to end this ‘truce’, Killer wouldn’t hesitate. Not even for a second. He’s as loyal as ever to Nightmare and he’ll go wherever his boss goes. Whether Nightmare is softspoken and stern, or a commanding madman, Killer is right there. It doesn't matter how friendly he gets with these new friends - if Nightmare said the word he'd end it. I can definitely picture Nightmare and Killer, in this circumstance, establishing something that’s approaching a real friendship. There’s still a weird power dynamic, and Nightmare’s past abuse toward his underlings hasn’t been forgotten. But the two of them have been through so much together - and every step, they trusted one another completely. If Nightmare did some reflection there’s real potential.

Horror is, honestly, up there with Dream for people who are most happy about the way things have gone. There's not much to say about him, other than this is a pretty ideal situation for him! No one except Dust really notices the way Horror starts to settle and calm down. Now that the war has ended, Horror has more time than ever to visit his brother. He’s got food, his family is safe, he liked killing but it could honestly get pretty physically and mentally stressful and now he doesn’t even have to worry about it any more. But most of all, he’s happy that the gang stayed together. He got quite attached to the Bad Sanses - he was the most genuinely emotional out of the group and anyone could see that him and Dust were close buddies. He’d miss all of them if they went their separate ways. Now? He gets to hang out with them, but without any of the executing. Dust isn’t as wound up, he lashes out less. Nightmare looks weird but he and Killer have been talking more and shouting less. Dream’s brightness gets on his nerves sometimes but the weird ‘games’ keep his mind off things. He gets to cook and clean. He visits his brother often. Blue is kinda funny.  ... This is nice. He likes this.

Ink has, for the most part, skedaddled. He was there for the fun of it all, the drama and the emotions, the adrenaline high of the multiverse being on the line. The battle of good versus evil, the character development, the crazy ‘plot twists’. Now that it’s over, he’s mostly gone back to harassing Error. He visits from time to time, but only to see Dream and Blue - not out of any real desire to help the bad guys rehabilitate. Occasionally Dream might ask him to drop by for a group activity and he does so as a favour to a friend, sometimes he gets curious about how Nightmare has changed and wants to see the new dynamics / discover how the epilogue to this ‘story’ is progressing... but he's not all that invested. Now that they can speak without attempting murder, Ink seems to have developed a fondness for Killer, but that's about all. If he’s not dropping by because he misses his friends, he’s occupied with bothering his opposite once more.

[kortac-sweetheart]

i have a hard time saying pet names irl because i feel like my accent makes it sound funny but i loveeee using them over text

projecting it onto simon right now 📡📡📡

he thought he did something wrong at first, you always call him “honey” or “baby” or “darling” or— you get it, over text. practically half of your vocabulary when you text him is a petname, but the moment he gets you on a call he’s always “simon” or “si” to you and it drives him downright insane.

did he forget to turn off the stove before leaving? forget to close the fridge door? forgot your anniversary— like hell he’d do that! so what was it?

he’s stuck between a rock and a hard place here. you don’t look like you’re mad at him (not like you’re ever really mad at him), and he’d rather pull out his own teeth than ask you about it so he’s just suffering in silence, not able to hear you say all those sweet pet names in person.

but it gets to a point, a man could only take so much before he breaks. he asks you about it over text, yes, not in person he has his limits.

ok! i’ll see you soon honey!! (❁´▽`❁) love youuuuu

wait. lovie, i have to ask you something

? yes baby?

why do you never call me pet names in person?

it takes you a little bit to respond, the three bubbles popping up and disappearing over and over. it makes him anxious, god— him. simon riley, who can stare down death itself without even flinching but is now anxiously awaiting his partner’s response to his question about pet names of all things.

what have you done to him? (you are the greatest thing that happened to him.)

the little ding! snaps him out of his anxious ruminating.

haha well i guess it’s just

i think my accent makes it sound weird 😭😭

oh. so that’s what it was. well— that can’t fly anymore, not that he knows about it now. he calls you immediately, of course, desperate to hear you call him something sweet finally.

he’d get on his knees (even if you couldn’t see him) and beg for you to call him anything you desired, anything please— just let him hear you.

“sim—“ you try and start, a little startled at the sudden call.

“none o’ tha lovie, call me something else— please.”

“but i think it’d sound weird—“ he’d do anything to prove you otherwise, anything at all.

“no! no— you won’t you’ll sound great, lemme hear ya dove, please.” he’s never sounded this desperate before.

“ok! ok, fine! simon, bubby, my honey, my dearest… uhm… my love, my darling…ba— baby… …okimdoneloveyoubye!!!”

there’s a very uncharacteristic lovestruck look on his face when you hang up. you sounded absolutely lovely to him. he could die a happy, happy man after that.

you sounded amazing lovie ❤️

wow. simon actually sent an emoji? he’s dead serious about it, huh? wild. but a man in love is a changed one as they say.

really? (๑º ﾛ º๑)

you’re so cute to him. downright adorable actually. he wants to hear you call him all those sweet things for the rest of his life. he needs to get you a ring asap.

yes lovie, really.

would i ever lie to you?

call me all those things when you see me in person, ok? love you. see you soon.

!!!!!!yay!!!!!!!

ok love you baby!!!!!! see you later!!!! (ɔ ˘⌣˘)˘⌣˘ c)♡

super cute indeed. (he’s going to the local jeweler’s after work.)

[marixrose]

Can you do yandere jinwoo headcannons?

Yessss you don’t know how happy I am to have a request! It’s been a few years since someone’s requested something, I am so so happy!

𝐉𝐢𝐧-𝐖𝐨𝐨 𝐘����𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 + 𝐎𝐧𝐞-𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐭 [EXTRA!]

One-Shot pt2 is NSFW so 18+ ONLY

1. Silent but deadly obsession:

Jinwoo isn’t the loud, chaotic type of yandere. He’s quiet, methodical—his obsession with you builds slowly and dangerously, until you’re the only thing he thinks about. You’d never even know until it’s too late.

2. Shadows everywhere:

He always knows where you are. Always. There’s a shadow following you every second of the day, even if you can’t see it. If anyone gets too close to you, that shadow reports back to Jinwoo—and depending on who it is, that person might not be around much longer.

3. Cold to everyone else:

Jinwoo barely acknowledges other people anymore. You’re the only one who gets to see his softer side—his smirks, the way his gaze lingers, how his tone lowers just for you. Everyone else gets the cold, calculated Hunter. While you get the soft, loving, possessive side of him.

4. Manipulative protector:

He frames everything as “protecting you.” That friend you used to text late at night? “Too suspicious.” Your job that keeps you late? “Too dangerous.” He’ll find a way to get you fired, isolated, and fully dependent on him—and you’ll never be able to prove he did it.

5. Possessive touch:

He’s subtle with PDA—hand on your lower back when others are near, standing a little too close when you talk to someone else. His presence alone is a warning to anyone daring enough to look at you the wrong way.

6. You're his greatest weakness:

For all his power, Jinwoo’s terrified of losing you. If you ever tried to run, he’d search the entire world for you. He’d burn cities if he had to. He can’t let you go—not now, not ever.

But it is almost certain that he will catch you even before you try to run. He knows all and sees all so don’t even try to run away. If you do, there will be consequences.

7. Sweet in private, terrifying in public:

Behind closed doors, he’ll cradle you in his arms, whisper promises that sound like vows and threats all at once. But in public? No one dares touch what’s his. Not after what happened to the last guy who tried.

8. “If I can’t have you…”

It’s not said out loud, but the threat is always there. He doesn’t even need to say it. The possessiveness in his eyes, the way his shadows shift when you talk about leaving—it’s clear. You’re his. Forever.

𝐎𝐍𝐄-𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓!

𝐉𝐢𝐧-𝐖𝐨𝐨 | 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐃𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐋𝐞𝐭 𝐆𝐨

Yandere!Sung Jinwoo x Reader | Y/N’s POV | Slightly NSFW / Obsessive, possessive, soft-dark vibes

I knew he’d find me.

The door clicks shut behind me. My breath is sharp in my lungs, the silence too still—like the moment before a predator pounces. I press my back to the wall, praying to a god I no longer believe in. And then… I feel it.

The shadows shift.

Creep across the floor. Curl around my ankle like a leash.

“You knew I’d find you.”

His voice. Low. Controlled. Drenched in that terrifying calm he wears like a second skin.

I can’t move. Can’t even look at him when he steps out of the dark, dressed in black like the reaper he is. I can feel the weight of his stare—hot and possessive—like hands on my skin.

“You said I was free,” I whisper, my voice barely holding steady.

“I lied.”

Of course he did.

He moves closer. I stay frozen. My legs would betray me if I tried anything now anyway. He’s always been gentle with me—dangerous, yes, but gentle—and that’s what scares me most. He doesn’t need to scream. He doesn't need to threaten.

He just needs to look at me like that.

“I didn’t hurt anyone,” I try again. It’s not a defense. It’s a plea.

“I know,” he murmurs, almost like he’s proud. “You’ve always been good for me.”

His hand lifts. Fingers trail down my cheek, soft, reverent. Like I’m precious. Like he owns me.

“You just forgot,” Jinwoo whispers, “who you belong to.”

My heart stops.

Then restarts under his thumb—now brushing lightly over my lips.

I should say something. I should scream or slap him or run.

But I don’t.

Because part of me missed him.

Because part of me wants this.

“Say it,” he breathes, stepping closer. His hand slides down to my throat—not tight, just enough to remind me he could. “Tell me who owns you.”

God help me.

“You,” I whisper. “You do.”

His eyes flash. Like that’s all he ever needed.

He kisses me then. Deep. Claiming. And I melt into it, my fingers curling into his shirt before I even think to stop myself. His shadows crawl up around me—wrapping, coiling, *binding*—and I don’t resist. How can I, when part of me was already his?

“You can run,” he says against my lips, his voice hoarse. “But I’ll always find you.”

He lifts me like I weigh nothing. Carries me toward the bed like he’s done it a thousand times. And I don’t fight him.

Not because I can’t.

But because I don’t want to.

Because no matter how far I run, some twisted, broken part of me will always want to be tangled up in his darkness.

And Jinwoo knows it.

Alright—this is where things get *intense*. You're in Y/N’s POV, wrapped in shadows, trapped under the man who says you belong to him. It’s possessive, slow-burn, and toeing the line between dark obsession and deep desire.

𝐉𝐢𝐧-𝐖𝐨𝐨 | 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐃𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐋𝐞𝐭 𝐆𝐨 𝐏𝐓 2

Explicit content. Obsessive love. Soft but intense dom Jinwoo. Slight dubcon due to emotional manipulation/control.

His mouth never leaves mine as he lays me back on the bed—slow, deliberate, like he has all the time in the world. His hands explore like he’s relearning a body he’s memorized in dreams. Every brush of his fingers sends shivers through me.

I hate how much I feel like I’m sinking. Like I want to drown in him.

“I should punish you,” he murmurs against my throat, his lips dragging heat down my skin. “But I missed you too much.”

He pulls back just enough to look down at me—his eyes dark, burning, hungry.

“I waited,” he says, almost like he’s blaming me. “You were gone for four days. Do you know what that did to me?”

I try to look away, but his fingers grip my chin.

“No hiding,” Jinwoo says softly. “You ran. You knew what that meant.”

His hand trails down my neck, across my collarbone. My shirt disappears—literally—his shadows unraveling the fabric like smoke, leaving my skin bare under his gaze.

“You’re mine,” he breathes, his mouth brushing over my breast, tongue flicking slow circles around my nipple until I gasp. “Say it again.”

I arch into him, both from the heat and the command laced in his voice.

“I’m yours,” I whisper, and he groans like he’s finally home.

His mouth travels lower, kissing over my stomach, teeth grazing my hip. He drags my thighs apart slowly, reverently. Shadows curl around my wrists—not restraining, just reminding. He doesn’t need to chain me.

He knows I’m not going anywhere now.

His lips press against the inside of my thigh. “You don’t run from me again,” he says, voice low and lethal. “Or I’ll keep you locked away where no one can even look at you.”

And then he devours me.

His tongue is relentless, patient and punishing at once. Every flick, every swirl—he knows exactly what he’s doing. I’m gasping, moaning, trembling under him. The pleasure is overwhelming, hot and dizzying.

I come undone under his mouth, and when I cry out his name, he doesn’t stop.

He doesn’t stop until I’m shaking, until my thighs are twitching and my voice is hoarse.

Only then does he pull back—eyes full of obsession and pride.

“Good girl,” he whispers. “So sweet when you remember who you belong to.”

Then he’s kissing me again, deep and rough, and I taste myself on his lips. His clothes vanish in shadows, and I feel the heat of him against me—hard, ready, unrelenting.

And when he enters me, it’s not rushed. It’s not angry. It’s possessive. Every thrust is slow and deep, like he’s staking a claim. Like this is a warning to the universe.

She’s mine.

My fingers claw into his back, my name a whisper against his ear, and I feel him everywhere. His shadows curl tighter, holding me open, keeping me still while he drives into me again and again, making sure I feel it in my bones.

“I’ll never let you go,” Jinwoo groans against my neck. “Even if you beg.”

I believe him.

God, I believe him.

And when I come again, he follows—his name ragged in my ear, his teeth in my skin, his body pressed tight to mine like he could fuse us together.

When it’s over, he doesn’t let go.

He wraps himself around me, fingers in my hair, lips on my shoulder, voice a broken whisper.

“No more running.”

And I don’t answer.

Because I don’t know if I want to.

[tarnishedxknight]

Basch doubted very much whether it was an apology Noah was looking for. He'd never accepted one from him, but then again, what he'd done to Noah was unforgivable. That made an apology less a healing comfort than an insult, he supposed. Larsa hadn't done anything wrong, however, and so Basch struggled to think of why his brother would be waiting for an apology from the boy. But he said nothing, for as Larsa had only now just said, Basch knew nothing about his brother, and therefore had no right to speculate on what Noah needed in this moment. If Larsa thought he knew, then let him try.

Oh, to have a family the way Noah did, though. To have someone who loved him. To have a child. Even with all of the clear problems and awkward issues his family had right now, Noah was a far richer man than Basch in that regard. All Basch had was unrequited love, silence, and memories. But was that not all perfect? Was that not all as it should be? Perhaps the gods had finally set things right, giving Noah a loving family to replace the one that had abandoned him, and taking all manner of family away from Basch, who had never deserved one in the first place. It was painful. It hurt. But it was right. Basch truly believed that. Now all he had to do was endure it, while his brother hopefully would be able to find some measure of peace and happiness with Drace and Larsa.

He simply nodded at Larsa's words, still not knowing if Noah was looking for an apology, but... he agreed with the sentiment. Noah... deserved. A great deal many things. And Basch was not the person to give them to him. So he'd hang his heart and hopes on Drace and Larsa being able to do it for him.

But his thoughts seemed to arrest beyond that because of the feel of... a second hand on his. The sight of their stack of hands, the magnitude of the sentiment, forced that painful lump back up into his throat again. Or perhaps it was merely him placing so much weight on so small a gesture because Basch wasn't used to any gesture at all. The weight of his beloved princess' hand on his, made slightly heavier by Larsa's laid on top of it, felt like a heavy ton placed on his soul. Not a weight in the sense of a burden or a shackle, but weight like a warm, heavy blanket, or the tightness of a hug. It weighed him down, anchored him, when he'd felt so very much adrift.

Basch bowed his head and closed his eyes, his other hand coming to lay over the boy's own, enveloping Larsa's and Ashelia's hands between his own. A tear trickled down his cheek. There was no sobbing, no shuddering shoulders, and no sound. Just a single tear.

Ashelia swallowed hard, her eyes becoming so sad as she looked at him. She'd never seen Basch so deflated before, not even after two years in Nalbina. "It's alright..." she whispered. "It will be alright, even if it must take time to be." She... didn't know that for a certainty, but like Basch, Ashelia hoped. For where else had she learned her hope from, but from Basch himself?

"I pray that it shall..." Basch said softly after a time. "For you both." That he was absent from his own statement of his wish was not lost on Ashelia, but she didn't know what to do about it. Any way she might try to show her appreciation for Basch, to show how much he meant to her, would surely be perceived as inappropriate.

His oatmeal was cold, and his tea was quickly cooling as well, but Basch felt the warmest he'd felt in a long time, simply holding Ashe's and Larsa's hands in his...

- - - - -

Drace quietly returned to the bed, a glass of water in hand. She's slipped away from Gabranth's side in the early morning hours to get him some water, knowing that today would likely be a day that he would neglect himself a bit. Whether out of emotional exhaustion or self-punishment, she knew he would likely stay in bed all day, not bothering to eat or drink anything. The situation with Larsa had hit him harder than anything had in a long time. Or at least she thought, though she of course hadn't been there to see his reaction to having to kill her, but... that was another matter for some other time.

"Gabranth..." she whispered as she gently stroked his hair.

"Mm..." he said, shifting but not bothering to sit up.

"Take some water or you shall earn yourself a demon of a headache," she coaxed.

He slowly rolled over and his eyes blinked a few times, the clarity of wakefulness coming back into his gaze. Looking at her and then at the water, he knew she would not relent until he drank it. She was always bothering him with this and that, prodding him to take care of himself... and he loved her for that. With a heavy sigh, he pushed himself to sit up and took the glass from her. With his eyes on hers, he drank the water, handing the glass back to her. There was a need in his gaze, a vulnerability he showed only to her, and only sometimes.

Drace smiled softly, saying nothing as she took the glass back. "I ought to-" check on Lord Larsa, she'd been about to say, but he interrupted her.

"Stay," Gabranth said. His tone denoted that he was not at all certain she would agree to, but that he needed her to. "Just a little while longer."

Drace stared at him for a moment before rising from the bed to take the glass back to the kitchen nook.

Gabranth sat watching her every movement, knowing that it was probably more important that she do go and check on the young lord. How culd he be so selfish as to demand more of her time? But he was. He was selfish. And scared. And afraid of being alone with himself at a time like this.

Placing the glass on the counter, she then returned to the bed and sat down on it, taking one look at Gabranth's face and knowing that she couldn't leave him. Not yet. She nodded her head for him to lie down again, and he did as she wanted. Getting in next to him, she drew the blankets over them and drew him into her arms, just as she'd done the night before.

Gods, how he needed her to hold him right now. Drace made the world stop spinning somehow. She beat back the madness and staved off his self-destructive thoughts with her mere touch and presence alone. He sighed, a shuddering and shaky thing, and settled into her hold, feeling sleep tugging at him once again...

Larsa did not expect to be unfrozen at all, let alone in the future. When he had snuck upon Gabranth's ship set for Pharos he did it to ensure the peace would be possible. The last thing he remembered was running towards fallen Gabranth and then... Light. (Marvel AU) - tarnishedxjudgement

@tarnishedxjudgement

Noah didn't have the same abilities and resources in this time period with which to inform himself of anything and everything that was going on around him. He was in the dark, most of the time, unless directly informed of things, a condition he hated. Being at the mercy of others he neither knew nor trusted for information was not a position he usually found himself in.

It was the reason he hadn't known about Drace being found after him until she was brought one day to the training compound. Inexplicably, after executing her in his own timeline, here she was again, seemingly from another. The entire experience was wholly jarring, but not nearly as jarring as losing his only son.

So often had Noah thought of Larsa in the months following his revival in this strange time. Thoughts invaded his peace, his sleep, his ability to function, until he found himself so erratic and unhinged that he did not recognize himself anymore. Even Drace found it difficult to comfort him, and she had always been a master of that feat. There was no closure to be had, no second chances, no going back... and that knowledge was eating Noah alive from the inside out.

But once again, information had been kept from him, and yet another arrival from Ivalice to the Avengers compound was neither expected nor necessarily wanted. Would it be another Dalmascan? Gods forbid a Rozarrian. And the way the people of this time seemed to think that all Ivalicians got along and would be happy to see each other was beyond irritating to him. Nevertheless, when he was specifically summoned to greet this newcomer, Noah begrudgingly left his quarters to do so.

What he saw... stopped him dead in his tracks. Within seconds, his expression betrayed him, and within a few more, he was on his knees, his legs giving way in disbelief of the sight that lay before him. It was little Lord Larsa, looking just as he did when last Noah laid eyes on him, perfect as can be.

He knew he should say something, but words betrayed him as well as his own legs had. Instead, he merely stared, the absence of his helm serving to display to the boy all the shock, confusion, and relief at seeing him standing there. Finally, he forced out the only two words he felt he could say without falling apart.

"My lord..."

[gwenyn28]

Since some people seem to struggle to understand the difference between facts and what is speculation or interpretation, here are a few things I think we should talk about concerning season 8b, especially episode 11.

What is a fact? What happened on the episode? What does this mean? What is commonly used in media and what is just interpretation or an assumption about it?

Fact: Eddie said it once and Buck twice that “Eddie is straight.”

From a screenwriting perspective, unfortunately “straight” is the default sexual orientation. It is always assumed that characters are straight unless it is stated otherwise.

Hen is shown as a lesbian from the beginning due to her marriage to Karen. Michael came out to Athena and also to the audience in season 1. Buck started to date a guy so he is at least seen as queer since his sexuality has not been explicitly addressed on the show yet. There was just a hint about the “in which pool he should dip into”. That he is bisexual is stated solely off screen in interviews; if it will ever be said on screen is unclear.

Now, let’s focus on Eddie and the statement that he is straight. The question is: Why would you need to say that? Nobody announced that Bobby, Athena, Chim or Maddie are straight in the show. Why is it said three times in such a short time span about Eddie? The explanation is very simple and can be circled back to a common narrative device - mention something that stands out as weird or different to come back to it later and to prove it to be wrong.

For example: In a crime movie let someone talk unprompted about the crime, asking questions about it just to show in the end that this person was the one who did it. Why would they talk about it otherwise? Normally a culprit would try to lay low and to not get any attention. So, that person mentioning the crime on their own unprompted leaves the viewer with the question “Wait a minute, that is weird… Maybe they have something to do with it.”

The same goes for the “Eddie is straight” phrase. Why would you mention it explicitly more than once if that was not something you need to circle back to? Like a narrator saying “In fact, he was not straight.”

Fact: Buck and Tommy spent the night together. Buck woke up alone but Tommy was already up and in the kitchen to make breakfast for them, suggesting that they might give their relationship another try.

Buck: Don’t worry. I know it doesn’t change anything. Tommy: Why not? Buck: What are you saying? Tommy: I’m saying… what are you doing on Saturday? Buck: You want to try again? Tommy: I mean I’m not ready to move in or anything. It kind of seems like you aren’t either. Buck: And you’re not scared I’m gonna break your heart anymore? Tommy: Not as much. Now that the competition’s out of the way.

Why would he use the word “competition”? That was intentional because we know writing in a tv show is always intentional. They don’t put up random words just to fill spaces. There is not enough time for that. And even though Tommy didn’t say the name, Buck knew that he was talking about Eddie after a moment of thinking. Which led him to the conclusion that Tommy saw Eddie as a competition.

Yes, I admit that you don’t have to read this in a romantic way. You can also see it purely platonically. But in the end it comes down to one fact. Eddie and Buck are friends first. Best friends. Your ex-boyfriend you just hooked up with thinks that this man is his competition. That he can just be in a relationship with you when said man is gone. So he is no competition anymore for your attention or something else.

We know how important Eddie is for Buck. So suggesting “hey, I feel threatened by your best friend and I am happy that he is gone” (not to forget that Tommy bought Champagne to probably celebrate the night they spent together, as well maybe them getting back together) is a very shitty move. No matter if Buck has feelings for Eddie or not in a romantic way… but they are friends. And his ex wanting his best friend gone, even celebrating it? How can Buck accept that and get back together with a person who will probably always feel threatened by Eddie? Buck is living in his house and they talk regularly even though they are apart for now. (And we know that Eddie will be back later in the season.) What does Tommy expect to happen even if he thinks that Eddie stays in Texas for good? He would probably want Buck to choose between him and Eddie, that Buck should distance himself from his best friend. And that is never a good foundation for a working and healthy relationship.

We get it even explicitly told later on in the conversation with Maddie when Buck said that “I understand him feeling threatened by what me and Eddie have…”

Fact: Tommy scoffs when Buck told him that Eddie is straight.

You usually scoff when you don’t believe what the other person is telling you. When you think they are wrong, on purpose or not. And exactly that is what is happening here. Buck might be convinced in that moment that Eddie is straight but Tommy is not. Therefore he can’t hold back and scoffs at Buck saying it, insisting on it, even slightly rolling his eyes.

To read a bit deeper into it, even though that is pure interpretation now, you could say that Tommy might see himself in Eddie in that particular situation. We know that he came out later in life, being engaged to Abby before. Tommy and Eddie have spent some time together in the beginning. So he might have seen Eddie acting in ways that looked familiar. Like how Tommy behaved and talked when he was still in the closet, still denying his true sexuality. Therefore his assumption that Eddie might not be as straight as Buck thinks he is.

Fact: Buck said “I don’t have to want to sleep with everyone I have feelings for. And I don’t have to have feelings for everyone I sleep with.”

Let’s focus on the second part first. This is about Tommy who also understands that this is about him because of his immediate reaction. He takes a step back and he closes himself off. He acknowledges that Buck says that just because they slept together last night it doesn’t mean that he has any feelings for Tommy. Because he can sleep with someone without having them. And we know that he definitely can do that when we remember how Buck slept around a lot in the beginning of the show (even though he might have done that because he was looking for something meaningful). So, Buck made it clear that the night was nice but it doesn’t have to mean a thing and… actually, it doesn’t. It was just them sleeping together. Later in the conversation with Maddie he even admits that he was just using him as a distraction (see more about that down below).

Now, the first part of that sentence is more up for interpretation. Buck says that just because he has feelings for someone doesn’t mean that he has to automatically sleep with them. If we remember season 1 and his time with Abby… it took a while for them to sleep with each other. First they got to know each other over the phone and Buck developed feelings for her. So, this can be read as “sex is just a means to get some relief and because he likes doing it. But if he has feelings for someone, the focus on sex is shifting. It becomes more meaningful and not just something he jumps into carelessly.”

Fact: In 8x06 Tommy broke up with Buck, using the words “I’m your first, not your last.”

Before getting to the conversation with Maddie this is worth mentioning here. Because this fits into the whole narrative that was written around Tommy. He calls Eddie his competition and only without him being there he can be in a relationship with Buck. Which means that he probably also saw Eddie as the competition during the six months he and Buck were together. This sheds a certain light onto the first/last comment. Tommy made it very clear in the conversation with Buck the morning after their hook up that he felt threatened by Eddie’s presence in Buck’s life. Which can be read as that his comment during the break up was about Eddie. That Tommy might have been Buck’s first, but that Eddie would be his last in Tommy’s opinion. Because he thinks that there is something going on between them (otherwise he would not feel threatened by Eddie and wouldn’t have scoffed at the straight comment) and this might be what leads to Buck breaking his heart. Therefore, he ended it before that could happen.

Fact: In that kitchen scene Buck and Maddie talked about the possibility of Buck having feelings for Eddie.

Buck: I mean what’s that even supposed to mean? I’m living in Eddie’s old house, therefore I must be in love with him? Maddie: Are you? Buck: In love with Eddie? Maddie: It wouldn’t be so crazy. Buck: Except I’m not. As much as everyone seems to want me to be hopelessly pining for my straight best friend, it isn’t just like that. I mean does not having him in my life - and in the field - leave a big hole? Yes, it does. Sure.

It is a fact that Buck said that he is not in love with Eddie and that it is not like he is pining for him.

Now, let’s interpret or better explain that.

Why did they talk about this in the first place? Why mention the thing that Tommy brought up the morning after Buck and him hooked up? Why not just talk about Tommy? If the goal was to make these two get back together, the whole conversation would have been solely about Tommy and what they did and what and how Buck feels about it. And how to move on, considering Tommy’s “offer” for a second try. To get back together somehow or at least to dive deeper into Buck’s feelings for his ex. But instead, for the first time in the show, the question was brought up if Buck was in love with Eddie and that it wouldn’t be that crazy.

There are three things worth mentioning here.

1. Nobody, neither Maddie nor Tommy, has used the word “love” before. This came from Buck who used that word, who drew the conclusion subconsciously about the whole exchange with Tommy that this was about him being in love with Eddie. Not “having feelings for him”, “having a crush on him” or “seeing him as more than a friend”. No, it was the word “love” that was used. And that is a very meaningful word. It doesn’t even stop there because he talks about pining for his “straight” (see the importance above) best friend who left a big hole in his life because of his move to Texas. He didn’t even give a clear answer to Maddie’s question. He could easily have said “No, I am not. I see him as a friend/brother.” And that would have been the end of it. But instead his reply was more a deflection. “Are you in love? - He is straight.” Leaves one thinking about this.

2. And about the pining part… Buck says “as much as everyone seems to want me to be hopelessly pining for my straight best friend, it just isn’t like that.” Who is everyone? Nobody has said anything about him and Eddie before. Tommy is the first who brings up potential feelings for Eddie, nobody has ever voiced anything that comes close to these “accusations”. So, again. This is a connection made up in Buck’s mind, similar with the “love”. Nobody has mentioned either of these things before. This might be just an assumption but maybe he talks about “everyone” because deep down he has feelings and thinks that it is obvious for everyone. So that is why he refers to everyone in his statement.

3. Since wording stuff in a particular way is so important and is always intentional it has a deeper meaning that the question about “being in love with Eddie” is brought up in such an explicit way. Doing this is exactly the same that happens when Eddie’s straightness is mentioned so many times. It is for the casual viewer outside of any fandom. The seed is planted and the viewer starts to question “Wait a minute… could he be in love with Eddie? Is that an option?” For the first time, the thought is out there for them to consider it. About Buck and Eddie maybe becoming a thing, being in love with each other. They are clued in and start to think about the possibility, maybe they even start to look out for further clues in any upcoming episodes.

Worth mentioning here is also the fact that Buck said “I understand him feeling threatened by what me and Eddie have but… he seemed so relieved he was gone. It pissed me off. It felt like he was accusing me. Is this what he’s been thinking the whole time we were together?” That is a fact that this was said on the show.

This is directly circling back to the words Tommy used in that prior scene the morning after when he talked about Eddie being a competition and which makes the conversation with Maddie more about Eddie than about Tommy. And how much Tommy is convinced that Eddie could be and probably has been a threat to his relationship with Buck.

Also, let’s not forget another important thing here. The common romcom tropes. People might say “But Buck said that he has no feelings. So the possibility is definitely shut down.” This is not how these tropes work. Two people can be friends for years and then they start developing feelings for each other. Or realize they have had these already without being aware of them. They always are in denial at first because they are convinced that starting a relationship could ruin their friendship. So, they try not to dive into this, to deny that there are feelings involved.

Take Jess and Nick from New Girl for example. Happened with them as well. And there are many other tv couples that started as friends and before they got together they denied their feelings until something happened and they finally took the risk.

Fact: Buck suggested that maybe he should call Tommy to apologize.

Buck: I should call him. Maddie: Yeah, that’s what I’ve been saying. It’s not like he moved to Mars. Buck: No, not Eddie. I mean I will call him but… Tommy. I should apologize. He’s probably right. I was using him as a distraction so I didn’t have to feel alone. Maddie: Not the best reason to get back together with someone. Buck: No.

Buck thought about calling Tommy, yes. But not to make up with him, to apologize and to tell Tommy that he was wrong. That there was nothing going on with him and Eddie. That he wanted to try it again with him. To give them a second chance. Nothing was said that could lead to the assumption that he wanted to call him for any of that.

No, he just felt bad about using him as a rebound. Because he felt lonely. That Eddie’s absence had a huge impact on him. (Let’s not forget that he said Eddie’s name 15 times alone in that episode. That is an all time high, the only episode Buck said Eddie’s name almost as much was in 7x04). Buck even admitted that Tommy was probably right even though he did not explain about what exactly. One could read into this that Buck agreed with Tommy about having feelings for Eddie though this is definitely just an assumption. But even this assumption aside, that part of the conversation Buck had with Maddie is only about him feeling guilty of using Tommy. That is how to read that exchange. Nothing else.

In the next episodes it is not even mentioned if he did call him to apologize (or rekindle). On the contrary. We see Buck in these next two episodes having meaningful facetime calls with Eddie instead to support him and to be there for him. While Tommy or calling him isn’t even mentioned at all.

_____

Let’s sum it all up then. After Eddie left Buck misses him and he feels lonely that he can’t stop talking and thinking about him. Then he runs into Tommy and sees him as a nice way to distract himself from that. So that he doesn’t have to think about the hole Eddie left in his life. There are no real feelings towards Tommy involved anymore. He just feels sorry that he was using him the next day.

Meanwhile Tommy is ready to jump back into bed with Buck and to even go further towards restarting their relationship because Eddie is gone and he doesn’t have to feel threatened anymore. Because Eddie was seen as a threat during their relationship, that he would probably be the reason for Buck to break up with him.

There is not much room left for interpretation. This is what happened on screen. I tried to put up as few as possible assumptions, mostly trying to base the explanations on facts and common screenwriting means and storytelling tropes.

_____

Honorable mention:

I know we should not put too much weight into interviews because they are just partly reliable since a. the people can lie with what they say and b. they don’t know the full story yet or the story changes between the interview and episode. But still there are certain quotes that support what I explained above. So that it is not far fetched to either draw these conclusion or explain it in a certain way.

“Yeah, I mean, he’s going to be moving to what’s in his future. And look, Tommy is in Buck’s romantic past for sure.” Tim Minear, November 14th, TV Fanatic

“But series creator Tim Minear said Episode 11 is not meant to shut down the shippers once and for all — no matter how insistent they are on making Buddie happen.” Tim Minear, March 20th, The Wrap

“It makes sense for his boyfriend to notice, you moved into the guy’s house and really he takes up a lot of space in your world and I think you might be in love with him, and Buck protests and kind of knocks that down. And also when Maddie asks him flat out, he says, it’s not like that. So you can either believe Buck or you don’t have to. It’s up to you.” Tim Minear, March 20th, TV Insider

“He’s telling his truth in the moment, for sure. I don’t think he’s trying to lie and hide anything from [Maddie],” he says. “He’s never even considered this before. He’s telling his truth, for sure in that moment. This is something that’s been brought to him from Tommy and something that he was not, as I say, having any kind of prior thoughts about.” Oliver Stark, March 20th, TV Insider

“is this really about the fact that do I really want to be back with Tommy or am I trying to fill a void in my heart because my best friend just left and moved away?” Aisha Hinds, March 20th, TV Insider

“You run into an ex, and you're in a place where you could just use some company and some distraction, and sort of one thing leads to another.” Tim Minear, March 22nd, Entertainment Weekly

“And it was also important for me to have Buck say, "Look, I don't have to sleep with everyone I have feelings for, and I don't have to have feelings for everyone I sleep with," which is a direct reference to who Buck was in the first season or so.” Tim Minear, March 22nd, Entertainment Weekly

“The truth of the matter is, Buck is using Tommy as a distraction for the turmoil he's going through.” Tim Minear, March 22nd, Entertainment Weekly

“Tommy has a function in this universe that isn't just to be Buck's bed buddy” Tim Minear, March 22nd, Entertainment Weekly

“And I think in that episode, Buck even realizes, "Maybe I'm not interacting with Tommy here for the right reasons." And then obviously he's kind of a d*ck to Tommy in the way that he handles that conversation, and it's obviously because he's so taken aback, but he's kind of rude in what he says to Tommy. So I think for the most part, he probably has gone some way to shutting that door regardless of what he would want.” Oliver Stark, March 24, Screenrant

[judejazza]

ʚ・ SNIPPET #03 ⟢ ELBERT GREETIA

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝ snippets

for anon.

You had been so sure that you had hidden your sketch book so perfectly that this very scenario you were currently living out had never crossed your mind. The one where you walked into your shared room with Elbert only to find him delicately flicking through the pages, a look of awe and obsession on his face as he took in each and every drawing.

You knew by now he was onto the pages that you'd sketched in when you first met him, when you found yourself so entranced with him that you did nothing but sketch him when you had time. Pages full of different angles of him, of the different minutiae in his expressions that he so seldom showed --

And that the pages after that would be full of grander pieces of him; more serious sketches of when you'd begun to found him more than beautiful, but so vital for your life and happiness.

"You never told me... you draw," he said slowly, his bright blue eyes rising up to meet your gaze. His delicate fingers traced over the lines on the page and you glanced down to see he'd stopped on a page of a sketch of him sitting amongst flowers with petals falling on him. It had been a beautiful day when it happened, and your biggest regret that no matter what you could never seem to capture him how you saw him in your mind.

"I-I'm sorry," you whispered out, reaching out to take the sketchbook but Elberts grip remained firm on it and you let go out of fear of ripping said book. The obsessive look on his gaze remained and you had a feeling you already knew where this was going. "Do you want it?"

"I don't... know," he said slowly, looking down. There was a pained look on his face, one which moved you to sit at his side instantly, pressing yourself against him so he could feel you were with him. "I want to keep it locked up to myself."

That you had figured already.,

"But..." he paused, biting his lip and looking like a scolded, scared child. "It... is a shame if your hard work and skill is... not appreciated by more people...."

"Oh... Elbert-"

"I feel like a terrible person...." he slowly admitted. "But... I want... to keep it to myself more."

You shook your head, leaning up to place a soft kiss on his cheek. "I never wanted to show anyone else." Perhaps now you could get him to pose for you properly, no more doing it from memory or hiding in spots to sketch him unawares.

"If only I could draw as well... I could get a portrait of you," he whispered, bringing his hand up to touch your cheek. You nuzzled against him and the corners of his lips turned up into a smile. "I... don't want any other man staring at you for so long to paint you."

"That's okay, Elbert... I'm not sure I am suited to portraits."

"Yes... perhaps you're right," he murmured, his words slowly stringing together as he tried to voice his feelings fully for you. "No one would be able to capture how beautiful you are properly... I would be dissatisfied with every single artwork."

You feel your cheeks burning at his praise, and though you wanted to tell him that, surely, he was exaggerating, the way he gazed at you stole you in your tracks. Truly he always looked at you as though you were a great treasure. Not like he had before, not like you were to be owned, but as if he truly valued you more than anything else in the world. And, you had to admit, the more you spent at his side and fell in love with him, the more you were certain you understood the sentiment.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

[alexanderlightweight]

Was told something recently that hit hard, don't know why exactly, I think maybe because I was already defensive and ready to justify myself that getting support shocked me. My doctor said 'If a diabetic person needed to be on medication for the rest of their life, you won't argue it. If anxiety medication is what is needed, why is that any different? Why shouldn't it be used to ensure on-going quality of life? It really hurts but so relieved. Could I see a Malec situation with similar emotions?

my dearest Anon, I am so very happy for you and I hope you are proud of yourself. I have been there. you are so strong for accepting the support offered and ALSO being ready to fight for it if needed. i'm so glad you didn't have to fight for it. but also good job for realizing that the epiphany both hurt and relieved you. also there is nothing wrong with feeling defensive about needing support since in this world getting help is so often met with scorn.

i wrote this based on some of my own experiences with chronic fatigue and anxiety but every person is different so if it doesn't mesh well, let me know and I can try again. Its important

tw: chronic fatigue and anxiety

i hope you enjoy? which feels like a weird thing to say about this fic but I know that's MY brain raveners (will be explained in the notes).

<3 lumine

-

attacked from within

Alec stares at the small clear vial of pink liquid, so delicate in his calloused hands.

It would be so very simple to take a sip. To swallow the potion that Magnus specifically asked Catarina to make taste like strawberries and know that the tension he’s holding will start to fade.

That the spiraling dizziness in his head will clear soon after taking it, not an instant relief but a gradual recovery from the doom encompassing him.

Still... it’s not that bad yet.

Alec’s thoughts have certainly done worse to him than this and today hasn’t even been that bad of a day. Alec’s clearly just let Magnus pamper him too much if he can’t even handle a normal shift at the Institute without wanting the potion.

After all, it’s not bad enough that he needs it.

Not yet.

—

“Alexander, the point of the potion is to take it.” Magnus is holding the vial between thumb and pointer with a pinched expression on his face and Alec winces.

He made Magus worry.

Again.

Even if he didn’t need the potion, he should have just taken it, to avoid Magnus’ sad face and the disappointment he’s no doubt hiding so Alec doesn’t feel worse.

“I wanted to wait until I really needed it.”

It feels like such an excuse in the face of earnest gold eyes watching him with sincere concern.

“Were you stressed? Did your head swirl after meetings and when talking to your mother about your future plans for your career? Did you want to simply slide to the floor and pull at your hair until the thoughts left?”

Alec really wishes that he hadn’t been so honest — well that's not true, Magnus deserves his complete honesty — because Magnus knows now what to ask about. What to look for, even when Alec is too used to it to notice himself.

Alec swallows and nods, “yeah but it wasn’t... it wasn’t as bad as it was last time.”

Last time specifically referring to a night Alec barely remembers but he knows that Magnus hasn’t forgotten and probably never will.  Not if the terrified devastation on his face when Alec finally came back to reality meant anything.

It was a night like any other, except that Alec had felt like his mind and heart were tearing him to pieces and that maybe he should just let it. Maybe if he succumbed the battering of his thoughts and accepted his failures and the crushing reality of his dreams being erased it would ease the pounding of his head.  

Where Alec was the prey and his thoughts the hunter.

“Darling, the potion is to make sure it doesn’t get that bad again. It’s preventative.”

“Then I’d be taking it all the time, Magnus. Every day.” Which is hard to admit and also sounds ridiculous. Why would Alec need to take it every day when he’s been surviving so far without it, except for a few incidents?

“Yes darling, because it’s to help manage the symptoms.  The gold vial? That one is for emergencies.  An extra precaution for truly horrific days that attack regardless of if you’ve taken the regular potion or not.  The pink vial? That’s just to help you live life to the fullest, Alexander. Because you deserve to enjoy life.”

“I can handle it, Magnus.” Because Alec can, he’s been handling things that would break other people his whole life, he can’t let this small thing be the breaking point.

“Do you want to live the rest of your life managing yourself like this?” Magnus sounds so concerned, so worried and Alec really, really doesn't want to live like this. But he can’t help but feel this isn’t the correct way. That he should be stronger or that he’s taking the easy route to all of this.  Because wanting to take the potion feels like a weakness. Can’t he just work on his thoughts? 

He says the last part out loud and Magnus sighs, but he’s smiling at Alec.

A soft, proud and slightly sad smile.

“Yes, working on your thoughts is good. However what happens when your thoughts fight back darling? Do you simply try harder? When you’re already exhausted and doing your best? How is that fair to you?”

“Shadowhunters don’t get anxiety.” Alec mutters, just to be contrary because he’s a shadowhunter and he definitely has anxiety. It’s true in a way though, because shadowhunters aren’t allowed to have anxiety. 

Magnus reaches out his fingers, running them gently down Alec’s arm in a soft, soothing motion.

“Do you think Helen doesn’t need her potions?”

The question strikes true, a hot poker that burns Alec as deeply as iron burns Helen.

“Of course not! She takes it to protect her from iron, which she could come into contact with at any time in her field. She needs them to function properly since she doesn’t know when iron might—” Alec pauses and frowns, lips tugging downward as he crosses his arms.  “I see what you’re doing there. It’s not the same.”

“Isn’t it? If it improves your quality of life and helps make you safer, even if it's from your own thoughts and the targeted words of others that pierce too deeply, isn’t that the same? Don’t you make better choices, greater advancements and have more time and energy to enjoy life with the potion?”

Alec really wants to grumble but he can’t deny it.  It feels like a weakness to need the potion but he knows that’s his parents talking.  And the Clave. And every other figure in his life before Magnus.

“I shouldn’t need it, though.”

“Oh for...” Magnus grabs his wrist and pulls him into a tight hug.  It makes Alec squirm, wanting to get away from the blatant affection, love and acceptance but Magnus doesn’t deserve that and he loves touching Magnus. So he stays where he is, even if he feels like clawing his own skin open, but that would only worry Magnus and cause Alec to waste energy on an iratze.

So Alec steels himself, gathering up his courage and lets himself relax into Magnus’ arms, his own coming up tightly as he hides his face in Magnus’ neck.

If Magnus can’t see him then he definitely won’t know how torn up Alec is.

It doesn’t work.

“Alexander, sweetheart. You’re shaking in my arms, if you’re trying to hide how upset this conversation is making you, it's not working. However, if you'd like, we can finish it later. When you’re up for it.”

To be fair, Magnus’ voice isn’t the slightest bit amused.  Instead it’s soft and tender and so understanding that Alec feels overwhelmed, lashes kissing Magnus’ skin with a wet sheen of tears.

“I don’t want to be like this.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Alexander. Not a thing. You just need a little help in this one area.” There’s a pause as Magnus runs his fingers through Alec’s hair and then he adds, “or do you think I’m weak for needing the rejuvenating teas that Catarina specifically makes for me?”

The tea isn't a necessity.  Alec knows that Magnus can live without them.  But it’s harder.  Edom left scars and Magnus wakes tired, the pull of Edom draining him even as he sleeps and while it doesn’t affect his magic, it certainly affects his energy.

Magnus mentioned it one day.  That sometimes, no matter how deep he sleeps, once he wakes it feels like he never slept.  That his eyelids feel weighed down by the sands of Edom, that when he wakes and tries to get up his feet feel like he is sinking into the traps of shifting dunes, keeping him sluggish and unable to move for fear of falling.

It passes.

Magnus forces it too, just like Alec does with his mind, but it is no way to live. Alec hates seeing Magnus like that, frustrated with himself and the world and too tired to even enjoy life as he has for centuries.

The tea changed that, for him, gave him back the ability to express himself the way Magnus loves to and socialize as he desires.

“Will you try, darling? Not for me or the Institute or your family, but for yourself?” 

And Alec nods, because Magnus is right.

Alec deserves to be able to enjoy the life he’s sharing and building with Magnus, without the threat of his own mind swallowing him whole.

It feels like a step back, instead of a step forward but only until he takes the vial with barely trembling fingers and lifts it to his lips. At the taste an unbidden smile crosses his lips, knowing that Catarina had cursed Magnus out in five languages for asking her to make it taste like strawberries.

But she still did it.

Not just for Magnus, but also for him.

Because Alec can admit that he needs help and the people who care about him make sure he has it.

—

AN:

This is magic. You bet your fucking ass they have something for chronic fatigue which is what magnus has and i wish they had something for it in real life. Never ever tell a person with chronic fatigue to ‘drink caffeine, or exercise, sleep more or whatever so they’re less tired.’ Those aren’t actual solutions unfortunately and depending on the severity of the fatigue can make it worse.

Hence, Magnus manages his symptoms in a different way here, with teas that have magical herbs and siphoned energy (from alec/catarina/ragnor)  but he still also has changed his work schedule and sometimes needs several days of recovery after big events/parties and meetings. He’s less likely to want to go for days around the world and to parties because the effort is a lot more. He’s not less powerful, he can use his magic as much as he wants, but life itself is harder. Edom changed him and he’s in for a long recovery, if he does recover and so the teas definitely help. I think a part of it is the drain because he’s so far from Edom

Alec has Clave/Parental/Institute induced anxiety and because of how he was raised believes he should just ‘do/be better’ even though that's not how it works. And he was bullying himself because he felt like a failure which is exactly why he needs the potion!!! Because he’s not a failure but you don't recognize that in the throes of anxiety. no matter how logical you try to be. Alec is hesitant to accept help in this fic only because I felt that would be how he felt based on how he grew up. he really does want to take it, but he feels like he can't justify it. when there is no need for justification.

Yes, the gold potion is gold like Magnus' eyes so Alec will be more willing to drink it. unfortunately, Catarina was not color changing the daily potion when she already went through the works making it taste like strawberries when there are no strawberries in it (interfere with ingredients).

Magnus: alexander it’s your brain weasels 

Alec: whats a weasel? (he mostly knows magical species)

Magnus: ... changing tracks. so it’s your brain ravenors

Alec: you think there are demons in my brain and that's the problem?

MAgnus: ... give me a moment, my beloved and very literal shadowhunter.

Magnus downing a cup of tea and taking a very deep breath: alright, sweetheart the brain raveners are a metaphor. The bad thoughts in your head? They’re attacking you. Like raveners or shax or whatever demon you want to call them. 

Alec: can they be edomei demons?

Magnus with a endeared smile but also very tired: yes darling, they can be edomei

Alec: good, if there are going to be demons in my head then at least want them to be the ones you have some control over

MAgnus: alec thats... okay we are moving on. I am only allowed one more cup of tea today, my love and we are getting through this conversation if its the last thing we do tonight. So, your bad thoughts are edomei demons and the potion, thats how you can both attack and defend from them. Does that make sense?

Alec very earnestly: of course Magnus

Magnus: ... okay pretty boy, summarize it back to me because for some strange reason, i’m feeling very doubtful of your comprehension of this conversation

Alec: rude... okay so there are demons in my head and the potion is a non-lethal poison

Magnus: NO. NO poison. IT is a HEALING potion. You know what. Forget the demon idea. Your thoughts are infected, okay? *alec nods* okay! The potion is an antidote to the infection. And you have to take it every day or the infection will grow and spread... of bad thoughts. BAd thoughts, Alexander! you are not actually infected with anything.

Alec: oh, so i’m taking an antidote because my brain hates me?

Magnus wondering how this is the explanation that works: ... if thats what works for you than yes. Yes Alexander, it’s an antidote to make your brain hate you less. Wonderful, please come cuddle me in bed darling. I have fought a good fight and won but i cannot deal with anything else.

Alec feeling a little silly now that the potion has kicked in and mostly relieved and very grateful and is definitely going to snuggle Magnus until he's tired of Alec's embrace: was the fight with my thoughts?

Magnus sighing: yes darling. I fought your thoughts and won, so please come cuddle me.

[lunarnightt]

A little thing called love :: James Kelly x Fem! reader

Summery :: James, a reformed criminal starts working on a car of a preschool teacher who just started her job. Who would have thought that he falls in love with the girl with paint on her shoes

CW :: no smut! James is a love-sick puppy, the reader is slightly not self-aware, just pure fluff!

Author's note :: This might be a mini series plus come with a side bot! So enjoy this first bit!

Word count :: 1.6k words

James Kelly was a lot of things—ex-con, screw-up, mechanic—but at this point, he figured good person didn’t make the list.

He'd done shit he couldn’t take back. Bad shit. The kind that stuck to your bones no matter how many times you tried to scrub it off. And because of that, he didn’t think he deserved much. Not happiness. Not peace. Not people.

He clocked in six to nine at the garage, wiped grease off his hands, cracked a beer, and sat in silence until the day ended. Rinse and repeat. Same rhythm. Same quiet. Same ghosts.

James didn’t mind the solitude—not really. Talking to people felt pointless most of the time. He’d try sometimes, throw out a sentence or two, but it never stuck. Either he didn’t have the time, or he just didn’t give a damn. Maybe both. He figured if he kept to himself, he couldn't mess anything up.

His world was small. The shop. The grocery store. That was it. Any talking he did happened in between—quick, surface-level, nothing that lingered.

The day was dragging. Real slow. A couple of folks came in, needing the usual—tune-ups, busted heaters, mystery noises under the hood. He wiped the sweat from his neck, jotted down a list of what needed doing, totaled the cost.

Then he heard it.

Engine rolling up. Not loud, not fancy—just enough to catch his ear.

He glanced up and saw it—a white car, dust-covered, dent near the fender. Not much, but what caught his eye was the little drawing hanging from the rearview. Crayon colors, paper curling at the edges. Looked like a kid’s handiwork—maybe a niece, maybe her own.

The engine cut off, and the driver door opened.

She stepped out.

Simple sundress, all floral and soft, like she didn’t belong anywhere near an oil-stained garage. Her Converse were speckled in paint—messy, lived-in. She looked like spring in a junkyard.

She shoved her sunglasses up onto her head, hesitating as she stepped out. Her sneakers smacked against the pavement with each slow step, and from the way she moved—like the concrete might bite back—James could tell she was nervous as hell.

She looked like she came from a different world. Somewhere with lemonade stands and freshly cut grass. Even her dress had smudges of dried paint like she’d walked out of an art project and straight into the grease-stained lot of his reality.

"Excuse me?" she asked, voice small, unsure. She was close now, hands fidgeting at her sides, eyes flicking everywhere but his.

James didn’t move right away. Just watched her for a beat, the rag still clenched in his hand. She looked like she’d rather be anywhere else.

"Do you know how much it would be to fix my car’s air conditioner?"

He finally stepped forward, slow, measured. “Depends on what’s wrong with it.”

She nodded, but her eyes dropped, teeth pressing into her bottom lip like she was holding something back. When she looked up again, it was like she was hoping he’d have all the answers before she even finished explaining.

“It’s not cooling at all,” she said, frowning. “It’s like… stuck on heat or something.”

James sighed through his nose, nodded once. “Pop the hood.”

You gave a small nod and turned back toward the car, your sundress swaying behind you as you moved. The click of your shoes echoed in the lot before you climbed into the driver’s seat and popped the hood.

James didn’t say anything. He just stepped forward, wiping his palms on the rag before leaning over the engine, eyes narrowing as he zeroed in on the compressor. His fingers moved with practiced ease, stained with grease and years of knowing exactly where to look.

You stood nearby, arms crossed over your chest, trying not to stare—but failing.

There was something about him.

The way that old work jumpsuit hung low on his hips, unzipped halfway to reveal a white tank soaked in sweat. The fabric clung to his chest, stretched slightly over muscle—earned, not given. His dark hair was slicked back, damp from the heat, strands sticking to his forehead. The shop’s AC had been busted for weeks, and judging by the way he moved, no one was in a rush to fix it.

Oil clung to his arms and shirt. Sweat glistened along the curve of his biceps, catching the light from the hanging fixture above like it had been placed there on purpose.

Then there were his eyes—clear, piercing blue. Not icy, not cold. Just... calm. Like the edge of the ocean where the waves met sand, soft and steady. There was a small crease between his brows as he leaned in, tongue peeking out in concentration, eyes scanning every inch of the engine.

And just when you thought that was enough to knock the breath out of your lungs, your eyes landed on the ink that traced up his arm. A tree . Black and intricate, stretching from the back of his hand all the way beneath his sleeve. Not flashy. Not loud. Just... there. Rooted deep.

You swallowed hard.

He was handsome in a way that didn’t ask for attention. Handsome in the way a storm is—quiet, but impossible to ignore.

“It’s an electrical issue,” James said, finally lifting his head from under the hood.

His voice cut through the quiet, low and rough, like he hadn’t used it much today. His eyes flicked to you, taking you in all over again, pulling you straight out of your thoughts.

You blinked, cleared your throat, and stepped forward, your arms dropping to your sides. "How much would it cost to fix it?" you asked, your voice soft—too soft for a place like this. Sweet in a way James hadn’t heard in a long time. It hit him harder than he expected.

“Over three hundred,” he said. “Maybe three-fifty.”

You winced, the sound slipping past your lips like air from a punctured tire. Your gaze shifted to the car, lips pressed into a line, clearly calculating something.

“How long would it take?” you murmured, still watching the vehicle like it might answer instead of him.

James looked at you—really looked. Part of him didn’t quite believe you were standing there. You didn’t fit in this setting. You were too bright, too warm. For a second, he wondered if the heat was playing tricks on him.

He swallowed hard, wiped his hand again out of habit, then stepped around the car, laying his palm on the hood like it would steady him.

“Could be a few hours,” he said. “Could be a few days. Depends how deep it goes.”

You nodded slowly, brushing your fingers through your hair, and for a second he swore time slowed. Just a second.

“Do I pay you now, or…?”

He shook his head quickly. “No. Just wait. I’ll let you know when it’s done.”

His voice was quieter this time. Not dismissive—just cautious, like he wasn’t used to anyone offering something up front without taking something back.

You nodded, rubbing your palms against the fabric of your dress before sticking your hand out toward him, that easy smile tugging at your lips.

“I’m Y/n, by the way.”

James blinked like the words took a second to register, then gave you a small, quiet smile—just the corner of his mouth twitching. It was the most expression he'd shown all day.

He reached out, slipping his rough, calloused hand into yours.

“James,” he said. “James Kelly.”

The second your skin touched his, something shifted. It was subtle, electric—like something had snapped into place. He didn’t move for a second, hand still in yours, trying to process it.

It wasn’t just warmth. It was right.

It rattled him more than he wanted to admit. His jaw clenched slightly, like maybe he was mad at himself for liking how good it felt to hold a stranger’s hand. You had just told him your name, and already, it felt like something he shouldn’t want.

But you felt it too.

That strange, magnetic pull in the pit of your stomach. Your breath caught slightly, knees just a little too soft now. It was like your body already knew something your mind hadn’t caught up to yet.

His eyes locked with yours—intense, steady—and for a second, it was like the rest of the world didn’t exist. Just that gaze, the heat of his palm, and the silence stretching between you like a thread pulling tight.

You laughed quietly, glancing down to break the moment as your hands finally parted. His dropped to his hips, fingers curling against the fabric of his jumpsuit.

“It’s nice to meet you, James,” you said softly, eyes trailing over him once more before shifting back to your car.

And just like that, the moment passed. But not really. It lingered—humming underneath the surface, waiting.

Maybe once he fixed your car, that feeling would go away.

That pull in his chest. That quiet ache he’d learned to live with. The need—that hollow need—for someone to actually be in his life. Maybe he’d hand over your keys, give a polite nod, and watch you drive away, and things would go back to how they were.

Back to routine. Back to silence. Back to being the same brooding, solitary guy who only trusted engines more than people.

But deep down, James already knew better.

Because from the second your hand touched his, from the second your voice softened the air around him like sunlight slipping through cracked blinds, something changed. Something stirred.

You were like warmth in a place that hadn’t seen it in years. An eternal sunshine he never asked for—but suddenly needed.

And as he watched you move—smiling, talking, just existing like it didn’t weigh heavy—he realized something that hit harder than any job, any debt, any mistake that kept him up at night.

He wanted more of it.

More of you.

And that scared him more than anything else ever had.

Author's note :: Hello everyone! So this is my first James Kelly fic, and as you guys can see— I intend to either make this a short series or a long one. It's whatever you guys want! Also, like I mentioned, this will include a side bot, so I will let you guys vote on what bot you would like for it to be in another post! Please reblog and like to give feedback!

[littlemissmentallyunstable]

@lyra-kane

HAPPY BIRTHDAAYYYY TO MY BEAUTIFUL MOON!! THIS IS AN EXTREMELY OVERDUE BIRTHDAY PRESENT THOUGH I HOPE YOU’LL ENJOY IT JUST AS MUCH (i am deeply sorry for the long wait, it’s been well over a month and I appreciate your kindness and patience so much <333) 🩷💘💖🥰😘😍💋 I HOPE THIS BRIGHTENS YOUR DAY AND PUTS A SMILE ON YOUR FACE

YOU DESERVE THE WORLD AND MORE 💖💖 I LOVE YOU SOOOO MUCH AND THANK YOU FOR BEING SUCH A LOVELY AMAZINGGG BEAUTIFUL MOOT MWAH MWAH💋💋

title: moon’s birthday

pairing: moon x grayson hawthorne

Moon rolled over, face planting a giant pink plushie, how it had managed to get back on the bed she didn’t know. She could’ve sworn she threw it off last night whilst trying to get comfortable. She rubbed her eyes, grinning silently, at the snoring culprit who had most likely reinstated the teddy back onto the bed. Gigi Grayson slept as sound as a still as anything, as if she was completely paralysed.

Her hair fell in uneven waves all over her face, her limbs were sprawled out every which way and the sheets were all tangled over her. Moon’s smile widened, her best friend was adorable. She rubbed her eyes and let them adjust to the light spilling in from the window, as she the sleepover hangover hit her. Going to sleep late, laughing until your ribs burnt and lots of snacks was not a good morning combo but worth it for the fun, though Moon couldn’t remember if they’d actually done 1AM karaoke or she’d just dreamed it.

She heard a soft meow so she sat up a little as she felt the weight of the mattress shift ever so slightly at the appearance of the third person in the house. Well not really a person.

“Morning Katara,” she smiled to the bengal cat who had jumped onto the bed. Katara purred, nuzzling into her for comfort, her little head butting Moon’s arm a few times. Moon stroked her gently and once Katara was satisfied with her morning snuggle, she moved over to Gigi, prodding the sleeping girl with a paw.

“Gigi’s still asleep,” Moon explained softly to the cat.

Katara purred, affectionately rubbing her head against Gigi who only responded with a small snore. She flicked her eyes back to Moon and meowed again.

“I think she looks cute too,” she agreed, biting her lip to stop herself from giggling.

The cat purred a second time before curling back into Moon. Light tumbled in from the gap in the curtain, a golden waterfall over a section of the bed, which left Katara glowing with a golden halo. Something about having Katara on her lap was so calming for Moon this morning, the softness of her fur and warmth of her body breathing calmly against her own. It was soothing for all that she had on her mind.

“Can I tell you something?” Moon murmured, out of nowhere, for a moment questioning if the cat even knew what she was saying.

Katara looked up at her, big round blue eyes wide with curiosity and sense of understanding that urged Moon to continue.

“I miss my Gray,” she sighed, finally feeling a little freer of the weight that had been stifling her from the moment he’d left the doors.

Grayson was away on a business trip, a longer one at that. Three whole weeks without him. She could barely stand it at the start but now it just felt like some sort of eternal damnation, not getting to see him, hear him, be with him. It was torture. Her limbs ached for his touch, lips missed his sweetness and heart craved for the warmth he brought it. She felt too hollow now, too shell like. It was unnatural.

Her dreams were plagued with him, her thoughts infected too, every minute of every day she couldn’t help but imagine him. It was as if though her mind couldn’t rest, wouldn’t shut off. Contact between them had been so limited to, with the differing timezones it’d been so difficult to catch each other at the right times. Moon knew Grayson would never wake her at some ungodly hour to talk despite her telling him to and she would not do the same to him either. Besides even when they did manage to find a time, Grayson usually had a meeting of sorts. Though it agonised her each and every day, Moon didn’t want to make a fuss about missing him, she had so many wonderful people around her she felt she was being ungrateful to them. Still her heart continued to be tugged upon whenever he entered her head, which seemed to be constantly.

Katara nuzzled into her further, offering a silent comfort, as if she’d been able to read her every thought.

“You miss him too, huh?” Moon smiled, stroking her in between her ears.

She meowed in agreement. Though Grayson didn’t like to admit it, he had a soft spot for Katara.

“I wish he wasn’t far away,” she sighed aloud, feeling more liberated by each sentence she admitted aloud, getting all of the built up emotion off of her chest, like a ton of bricks had finally be taken away. But soon a twinge of guilt then hit her hard, ruining the relief, all of a sudden she wondered if this was selfish to think such things, let alone say them.

Katara stood up and padded towards Gigi for a second time, putting her nose against the sleeping girl’s. She pressed her head against Gigi a few times and when she didn’t stir, Katara began to lick her softly.

“Morning Katara,” Gigi mumbled into her pillow, still half asleep, “what do you think about polka dots?”

Moon laughed softly and Katara prodded Gigi’s head again.

“Okay, okay, I’m getting up,” she groaned, gently pushing her away.

Painfully slowly, Gigi sat up rubbing her eyes, her hair sticking in every direction all poofed up and slightly frizzy, probably from all of the tossing and turning she did.

“Well good morning sleeping beauty,” Moon giggled.

“Morning Moon,” Gigi grinned back, there was an audible beat, “oh my gosh Moon! Happy birthday!”

She beamed, as she was pulled into a tight hug, “thank you Gigi.”

“Wait,” Gigi froze, “no, no, no, I was meant to wake up before you, I set an alarm and everything!”

“I know,” Moon said dryly, “it woke me up an hour ago.”

“Gosh darn it! I always sleep through them,” she grumbled, ranking her fingers through her hair.

“It’s fine,” she smiled, putting a soft hand on her shoulder.

“No,” she groaned, “I was meant to be awake before you so I could get everything ready, I mean most of it is but I wanted breakfast to be done at least-“

“Gigi,” Moon said gently, “it’s fine.”

“But I had a plan,” she pouted, stroking Katara, “it was supposed to be the perfect day!”

“It is the perfect day, I’m here with you,” she said.

It was true, any day with Gigi felt like the perfect day. Gigi was that sparkly pocketful of sunshine that could make the saddest of people smile. Half of the time Moon was convinced she was actually hiding some sort of magic power.

“Oh Moon!” she grinned tackling her with a hug, “you’re the best.”

“Not possible because that’s you,” she replied, tapping the end of Gigi’s nose gently.

Gigi only squeezed her tighter, “want to get up?” she asked.

Moon nodded in reply shifting out of bed, Katara following the girls eagerly as they exited the room. As soon as she stepped foot out into the hallway Moon gasped upon looking at her surroundings, hanging from the ceiling were paper hearts in various shades of light pink, littered across the floor were baby pink balloons, some tied together with a ribbon and some left to freely wonder. She slowly walked through, taking in every particle of glitter, every circle of confetti, every moment of thought. A vase of tulips sat on the windowsill, their rosy colour stunning against the emerald of their stems and under it sat a homemade birthday banner reading ‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY MOON!!’

“Gigi when did you do this?” she whispered, recalling how the two of them had stayed up for hours the night before, trying to calculate how Gigi had even found the time.

“Last night,” she replied, as they came to a stop in the kitchen, also widely decorated in pink embellishments.

“But we fell asleep at 2am,” Moon said.

“Correction, you fell asleep at 2am,” she grinned, rubbing the sleep from her tired eyes again.

“You stayed up to do all of this,” Moon murmured in awe, taking in every last morsel of her surroundings.

“It’s your birthday,” Gigi laughed, “of course I did.”

“Thank you Gigi,” she wrapped her arms tightly around her, “thank you so so much!”

“I take no credit for the cake,” she said, gesturing to the table, “obviously.”

Mina laughed remembering the last time Gigi had made a cake for Grayson’s birthday. She’d gotten batter everywhere by accident, broken the oven, then whilst trying to fix the broken oven slipped in the batter she’d gotten everywhere and ended up in the hospital with a broken ankle and after all that the cake tasted horrible because she’d used salt instead of sugar by accident.

“But Savannah made it, as Libby’s on her babymoon with Nash,” Gigi explained.

On the table sat the most gorgeous cake Moon had ever seen in her life. It was in the shape of a heart and a pale pink with ‘happy birthday’ written in cursive frosting with an expert hand. There were excellently piped ruffles and borders with the subtlest hint of sparkle.

“She says happy birthday by the way,” Gigi added.

Savannah left for a basketball tournament the night before and had apologised profusely for not being able to drop out but Moon completely understood. Being at the level Savannah was at, Moon didn’t want her to drop out at all, she knew how important her games were.

“I’ll thank her later,” Moon smiled gratefully.

“I’m thinking breakfast,” Gigi proposed, “and then the day of surprise begins.”

“Day of surprise,” she raised her eyebrows, “now why does that scare me?”

She gasped putting a hand to her chest melodramatically, “you wound me!”

Moon giggled, “I’m excited, you know it.”

“Good, now breakfast,” Gigi said, rushing into the kitchen.

Katara meowed loudly, hot on her heels.

“For us all,” she rolled her eyes, petting the cat.

***

After breakfast, Gigi stopped off at her first ‘surprise’ of the day. Moon could barely contain her excitement when they pulled up to a bookstore, which pretty much was the equivalent of heaven. The two spent hours browsing, staring at pretty covers and all of the special editions, pointing at books they’d read or had but were still stuck on their everlasting ‘to be read’ lists and also showing one another the ones they wanted.

“Okay you go first,” Gigi said, excited they’d finally gotten around to one of her favourite bookshop games: finding the best book boyfriend.

“Once upon a broken heart series, Jacks,” Moon replied effortlessly, picking up a copy of the book from the table beside her to use as a prop.

“Oh 100%,“ she agreed with a wide smile, “okay, my turn…” she paused for a long while, “…Cyrus from this woven kingdom.”

“Yes please!” Moon nodded in agreement, “okay back to me, let me think… ooo I know, Aaron Warner.”

Gigi didn’t reply but her nose wrinkled ever so slightly. If you’d had blinked you may have even missed it.

Moon stood still, freezing in shock, “what, you disagree?!”

“I will forever be a Kenji Kishimoto girl,” she insisted, placing a hand on her heart solemnly.

“Over Warner,” she deadpanned, eyes as wide as saucers.

“Of course,” Gigi replied, as if it were a silly question.

“You’re crazy,” Moon laughed shaking her head, eyes roaming over the Shatter Me display.

“Puh-lease,” she replied, putting her hand up, “I don’t want some moody, rich, slightly stalkerish man, I want someone funny and bold and flirty.”

“Warner is not stalkerish,” she grumbled, folding her arms.

“He used to watch Juliette on the camera in that prison cell,” Gigi sang, suddenly very amused.

“No it wasn’t like that,” Moon defended quickly, “you’re just making it sound weird.”

“Uh-huh,” she replied, unconvinced entirely.

She sighed, “Kenji literally offended Nazeera when they first met.”

“At least he didn’t keep her locked in a room,” she countered.

“That was different,” Moon retorted, not really sure how else to fight Warner’s case.

“Was not!” she exclaimed.

“Was to!” she replied, sticking her tongue out playfully.

“Fine, I can understand the Warner hype,” Gigi admitted slowly, “but I will never love him more than Kenji.”

“I guess we can still be friends then,” Moon teased.

“Don’t be silly, you could never get rid of me anyway, you’re stuck for life,” she grinned, that glint of dangerous mischief twinkling in her ocean eyes as she slung an arm around Moon’s neck.

“Oh no,” she joked, feigning a look of fear.

“Hey!” she giggled, “…so have you picked anything about yet?”

“Well I’ve been desperate to get my hand on the Lunar Chronicles, I’ve heard good things,” Moon said.

“Then let’s get them and anything else you see on the way,” Gigi said, “and before you try anything, I’m paying. It’s your birthday and I’m not taking no for an answer!”

***

Gigi did not take no for an answer and after buying Moon her birthday books, despite Moon’s protesting and reluctance, the two had decided to head back home.

“I had the best day Gigi,” Moon smiled, her head in her best friend’s lap.

The two had been shattered after all of the excessive book shopping and were ready to spend the rest of the day opening gifts and just simply spending time in each other’s company.

“You did?” she beamed, “I’m glad.”

“It really was perfect,” she hummed gratefully, “thank you,”

They fell into a comfortable silence as Gigi played with Moon’s hair, twisting it in various ways, braiding and unbraiding. The succinct rhythm so methodical and calming. But as lovely as it was, Moon’s heart suddenly ached, remembering how Grayson would often do this for her as well, after a long day.

“Do you miss him?” Gigi murmured, her best friend senses obviously heightened.

Moon didn’t need to ask who ‘him’ was.

“Of course,” she breathed.

“It sucks he wasn’t here,” she said sympathetically, her movement becoming a lot softer all of a sudden.

“I know,” she sighed, “I haven’t even heard from him.”

“Time zones I guess,” Gigi said.

“They suck too,” Moon replied.

“Absolutely,” she agreed, “but it’s okay, don’t you guys have something planned for when he gets back?”

“Yeah,” she nodded, “he felt so guilty for missing it.”

It pained her remembering the look on his face when he told her he’d be away, all the apologetic kisses and gestures he’d provided before and all the promises he’d made for after. It must be killing him inside, he’s never missed one of her birthdays in all the years they’d been together.

“I’m sure he’s thinking of you,” Gigi said thoughtfully.

Moon smiled wistfully, imagining him thinking of her like she thought of him, “I hope so.”

“He is, I just know it,” she nodded, “cake?”

“Well it would be rude to say no,” she smiled, glad of the change in subject.

Gig had always had a knack for knowing exactly the right time to move the conversation, it was like she could read everyone so perfectly and yet still make a seamless and unobvious transition when necessary. It was an art.

“Agreed, entirely,” Gigi laughed, rushing out to grab the birthday cake, “oh wait we have to do candles and the song,” she added as she came back in.

“We do not,” Moon replied, biting back her smile.

Gigi put the cake down very carefully and lit the candles, grinning at the way. If Grayson were here he wouldn’t have let her within a five mile radius of the lighter. Then she sang the classic uneven happy birthday tune, with Katara in her arms, moving her little paws in time with the beat. Katara was not impressed and for the first time ever hissed at Gigi. Moon laughed at the scrunched up face of the poor cat as the song came to an end and when Katara was finally released, she came to find refuge in Moon’s arms instead.

“Betrayal!” Gigi gasped at Katara who gave her a deadpanned look as if to say ‘that’s what you get’.

“Maybe dance just isn’t her thing,” Moon said.

“But she was practically born to be a cat ballerina, a caterina,” she replied, “that’s nearly her name, Katara, caterina, I mean come on!”

If cats could scowl Katara would be scowling. Instead, she was very intently staring at Gigi from Moons lap, her wide eyes pinned to her new-found enemy with a bold ferocity.

Moon shook her head laughing and she sliced her cake and dished it up on their fanciest plates. The girls clinked their forks together in a ‘cheers’ and each tasted it. Moon took her first bite and she was sure a drop of heaven was dancing on her tongue, the perfect sweet blend of flavours, but still light and fluffy. The girls fell into a silence of worship for the cake, indulging in every delicate mouthful and Gigi managed to coax Katara back into loving her by letting her lick some frosting.

“What do want to do now?” Gigi asked her, once the two were finished.

“Movie?” Moon suggested

“Movie,” she nodded in agreement.

Together they walked into the bedroom to pick out something to watch however when they entered the room they came to an immediate standstill. Upon the bed lay two gorgeous ballgowns. One was a deep red, like sweet dark wine, a simple chique look with expensive fabric and miniature red jewels glistening to silhouette the neck line. The other was a stark navy with a menagerie of pearls crawling up from the bottom of the skirt thinning out into nothing at all when they hit the corset bodice. They were each labelled with their names, the stunning red dress addressed to Moon. She ran her fingertips over the fabric, her breath catching in her throat. It was stunning, so silky and smooth and delicate. Her dream ballgown. She immediately looked towards Gigi in thanks.

“Don’t look at me,” she shrugged, “my brother works in mysterious ways.”

She nodded towards the handwriting on the letter. Moon glanced down, it was unmistakably Grayson’s soft cursive.

‘have a ball tonight and I promise you as many dances as there are stars in the sky when I get back’

“Grayson,” Moon smiled, a warmth spreading across her chest and all through her body, blossoming the purest of love it every crevice of her being.

She read it over and over until she’d memorised each stroke of the pen and each stitch of the dress she’d been gifted. It almost felt like a part of him was here right now. She imagined him standing behind her, his chest pressed up against her back, whispering something smooth and adoring in her ear

“I can’t believe he left us these, they’re so beautiful,” she paused taking a sharp breath in at her sheer awe of the dress, “…does this mean we’re going dancing?”

Gigi nodded vigorously, “the question is where should we go dancing?”

Moon pursed her lips and mentally went through a list of places she could go, “I don’t know.”

Gigi also paused for thought and for a long while they were settled in a silence until, “what about by the lake, it’s gorgeous when it’s moonlit.”

“Oh it’s perfect,” she beamed, “absolutely perfect!”

The girls quickly got into their dresses, night falling fast. It was as if their gifts had been tailored especially to fit them, pulling in and puffing out at all the right places. Grayson knew Moon too well, the deep red accentuated all of her features perfectly, making her gorgeous eyes pop and hair radiate an otherworldly sort of beauty and the style of the dress clung to her figure in all the right places.

They were quick to make their way down to the lake, intoxicated in their own excitement, neither could stop laughing. Once bathed in the moonlight that bounced off of the crystal lake, the two girls joined hands and began to dance. Twirl after twirl, step after step, until the seconds bled into minutes and the minutes bled into hours, until their feet were so sore they’d gone numb. Mid-spin of what felt like their fiftieth dance, something pale and pink caught in the corner of Moon’s eye and she slowly came to a stand still.

She peered down, “what’s that?”

Gigi only smiled, not saying anything specific but her eyes sparkling very suspiciously.

“Gigi, did you do this?” Moon asked.

“Just follow it,” she replied cryptically, not giving anything away on her face.

Moon glanced at her curiously, wondering silently if this was some sort of reverse heist Gigi was pulling as she often did, before trusting the process taking the pink ribbon between her fingertips and following the trail. It looked as through it never ended as it lead her through the starlit park, around the trees and past the lake they’d danced beside. Though when it finally did seem to stop for a moment, the ribbon ended up outside an apartment building. Moon glanced back a Gigi who gave her a soft nod to tell her to keep going. Hesitantly, she pushed open the door, the cool metal of the handle ice beneath her hand. She glanced upwards, the stream of pink still trailing up the stairs yet it had changed a little, every few inches, something rectangular sat upon it. As she got closer Moon realised that these were polaroid photographs, but not just any polaroids, ones of her and Grayson.

All the special moments, strung together. Like their first date, first dance, anniversaries, birthdays, christmases, events and business functions they’d attended together, new year’s eve kisses and their beach days, rainy walks through forests, stargazing on a picnic blanket. It was all there.

Moon’s heart throbbed as a wave of emotion drowned her, rendering her body defenceless, her lungs breathless and her voice speechless. All these sweet moments with Grayson were ever sweeter still when she was transported back to each and every setting just by looking at the picture. The way he smelt, what he was wearing, the dimples the curved in the side of his cheek, the melody of his laugh.

“Thought I’d add a bit of Grayson to your day,” she murmured over Moon’s shoulder, enjoying watching her best friend take everything in.

“Gigi,” she breathed, tears glistening in her wide eyes, “Gigi I’m speechless, this is the most beautiful thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

“Well it’s not over yet, keep following the ribbon!”

Moon laughed, a few drops of joy spilling from her eyes. She kept hold on the ribbon as her fingertips blinded across it, following the trail, Gigi close behind. Finally it ended at the door of an apartment. Slowly she let herself in, cautiously peering around the door. It was empty, almost like a studio space with long glad windows that let the moonlight stream through them. Confused, she walked up to one of them, letting her finger briefly hover over the glass when she heard another person behind her and she knew it wasn’t Gigi. She turned around and her breath was stolen, so was her ability to formulate coherent sentences, or think logical thoughts.

There stood Grayson Hawthorne. Bathed in moonlight he looked like some sort of ethereal greek god, blonde waves glistening, gray eyes shining. She’d almost forgotten how beautiful he was with all this time away. Moon’s eyes just couldn’t seem to tear themselves away from the man in front of her and she stood deathly still, paralysed in her own shock.

“Surprise,” he smiled, a dazzling smile at that, that flashed his white teeth and encouraged his dimple to show.

Before her mind even process what she was doing, her legs were bolting towards him. She flung herself into his arms and he caught her effortlessly, gracefully twirling her around in the air, like every disney prince did to their princess. Her eyes darted every which way, taking him all in as he clung to her tightly.

“Grayson, oh my, what, when, how?” she managed to sputter, the only words she could unscramble from the mess of questions and emotions in her brain.

“It was Gigi’s idea,” he breathed in explanation, setting her down softly, his hands still lingering on her waist as if he was afraid to let her go.

She looked back over her shoulder but Gigi was already gone, “of course it was,” she said, eyes brimming with tears once again, “that beautiful girl.”

“Speaking of beautiful girls,” he smiled, “I think I owe one a birthday kiss.”

“Oh yeah,” Moon grinned, raising an eyebrow, “who’s that then?”

“I wonder,” he smiled, their foreheads pressed to one another, noses touching.

His hands tightened a little around her waist and wrapped around the small of her back, his fingers were warm and comforting. Everything felt in place and Moon finally felt home again. She really didn’t realise quite how much she longed for this until she was experiencing this moment. Every craving for his touch, voice, breath, body, matter all of it was finally indulged into. Moon couldn’t quite name the feelings bubbling in her chest, something between euphoria and passion and love. She glanced up at him, their eyes connecting with that magnetising power they’d always seemed to share. She needed this. He needed this.

“God I missed you,” he murmured, voice suddenly rough and ragged, that raw desperation he didn’t often reveal presenting itself, uninvited.

Moon’s smile widened as she looped her arms around his neck, “not half as much as I missed you.”

“You’re a bad liar with such sweet lips,” he whispered, kissing her gently.

The kiss sent a spiral of warmth from the back of her neck to the base of her spine, as if she was being pricked by a thousand needles but feeling no pain at all. She could feel the fast pace of Grayson’s heart against her own chest as his hands clambered up her body.

“That was very Shakespearean,” she giggled, against his mouth, “are you channelling your inner Romeo?”

“Only if you’ll be my Juliet,” Grayson said, ever the poet.

Moon traced her index finger lightly up and down the back of his neck, knowing what it’d do to him, “gladly,” she mumbled.

“Only without the ending,” he clarified quickly, leaning further into her touch.

“Naturally,” she laughed, tilting her head back ever so slightly.

Without warning, he softly pressed his lips to hers again, stealing the last of her laugh in his own lips, a strong hand deep within her hair cupping the back of her head tenderly. She pressed onto her tiptoes to deepen the kiss, somehow pulling his body even closer into her own.

“I didn’t stop thinking about you,” he breathed, “every second of every day you were the only thing running through my mind.”

“How funny,” she mused, “it was exactly the same for me, what a pair we are.”

“A pair indeed,” he grinned, unable to restrain his urge to kiss her any longer like some sort of deranged animal.

For the third time now, he carved his name into her beating heart and sealing the deed with his mellow lips. Moon’s whole body tingled this time, as if mini sparklers had been placed inside of her bones and had been suddenly ignited all at once.

“You look so gorgeous, love,” he said, so gently she wondered how she didn’t melt right there and then in his hold.

“Well you picked the dress,” she shrugged, as his hand trailed up the material until they cupped her face.

“I wasn’t talking about the dress,” Grayson murmured, “but now you mention it, I have excellent taste.”

“Well you picked me so you must,” she winked in reply.

“Any blind, drunk, idiotic man would have the brains to pick you, it’d be a crime not to with those eyes and-“

“Oh stop that,” she said, rosy-cheeked and warm, trying to suppress her smile.

He raised an eyebrow as he often did when confused, “what?”

“Making me feel like this,” she replied quietly.

“Like this?”

He smoothly lifted her up into his armed and spun her around again, sending her heart soaring and her laugh echoing to the room, bouncing off walls and playing of repeat. It was music to Grayson’s ears, better than any violin composition he could ever manage.

“Yes, stop,” she grinned as he finally put her down.

He pulled her a few inches closer, “and why is that?”

“Because I say so,” she shrugged.

Grayson’s smile widened, flashing those dimples that made the butterflies in Moon’s stomach start doing dangerous acrobatics, “is that a threat?” He asked, voice silken.

She bit her bottom lip slightly, “maybe.”

Slowly he took one of her hands and guided it to his shoulder, then he pressed his flat against her back. Tenderly, he slipped his free hand into hers and raised it up, “dance with me,” he murmured.

It was neither a question nor a command.

“Always,” Moon smiled.

And they did. They danced as many dances as there were stars in the sky.

EEEEEKK I REALLY HOPE YOU ENJOYED MOON 🤭🤭 AFTER ALL THAT WAITING IF I HAVENT DONE THIS FIC JUSTICE IM SO SORRY

BUT I’D JUST LIKE TO THANK YOU AGAIN FOR YOUR FRIENDSHIP AND SUPPORT WITH EVERYTHING 💖💖 YOU TRULY ARE A WONDERFUL PERSON AND I HOPE TO GIFT YOU SOMETHING EVEN BETTER NEXT YEAR THAT’S ACTUALLY ON TIME!! LOVE YOU <333

[arequiem4u]

ꕥ The Requiem's Downpour ꕥ

➤ N. Riki x M.Reader

warnings: Angst,slow burn,manipulation,toxic situationship,suggestive cheating.

Synopsis

M/N knew what he was getting into—kind of. Ni-ki was charming, hard to read, and never really his to begin with. But that didn’t stop M/N from falling, slowly at first, then all at once. What they had wasn’t loud or labeled, but it felt like something. The way Ni-ki looked at him when no one else was around, the texts that made him smile like an idiot in bed, the soft touches that said more than words ever did. But lately, things have been off. Ni-ki pulls away, even when he’s sitting right next to him. The texts don’t come like they used to. The smiles don’t feel like they’re meant for M/N anymore. And still—he waits. He waits because even a small version of love still feels better than none at all. This is a story about two people who built something real in the spaces between classes and stolen time—but love that’s hidden can only survive for so long before it starts to feel like it was never real to begin with. Quiet, personal, and painfully honest, this is about holding on too long, and learning how to finally let go.

M/N and Ni-ki weren’t supposed to be anything. It started with shared glances during class, late-night convos that went on longer than they should’ve, and a random moment where everything just shifted. Suddenly they weren’t just classmates. They weren’t exactly dating either. It was that confusing in-between—where things feel like love, but no one says it out loud.

Ni-ki was warm when he wanted to be, distant when it mattered most. He had this way of making M/N feel special and invisible at the same time. But M/N held on—because when it was good, it was really good. They had their own world, their own rhythm. Secret meet-ups, subtle touches, conversations that felt too big for the space they were in.

But over time, the silence started to weigh more than the connection. Ni-ki stopped showing up the same way. The secrecy stopped feeling safe and started feeling like shame. And M/N? He kept waiting, even when deep down he knew—Ni-ki had already let go.

The fluorescent lights buzzed low above, humming over the scratch of pens and occasional coughs in the quiet cram school room. The air smelled like ink, instant coffee, and the faint leftover rain from outside. M/N sat near the back, in the seat that always wobbled just a little. He never asked to change it.

“Hey,” a voice said softly behind him, low and casual.

"Don’t leave during the break. Let’s talk."

"Okay."

M/N didn’t have to look to know who it was. That same tone had him feeling everything over the past seven months. The butterflies. The pit in his stomach. All of it.

Ni-ki slid into the seat beside him like it was nothing. Hoodie half-zipped, hair perfect in that messy-on-purpose way, a candy in his teeth. The girl next to them giggled at something he said, even though he wasn’t talking to her. He didn’t even have to try. He just had that charm.

M/N kept his eyes on his notes, underlining a sentence he hadn’t read.

“Did you eat?” Ni-ki asked, leaning in, barely a whisper.

“Yeah,” M/N said. “Rice balls.”

“Didn’t save me any?”

“You don’t even like them.”

Ni-ki grinned, nudged his leg under the desk. M/N didn’t react. He knew what would happen if he looked at him now—his chest would tighten. That almost-happy, almost-sick feeling.

The teacher walked in. The room shifted. Everyone sat straighter. Ni-ki too, snapping into his public self. Confident. Untouchable. M/N watched the side of his face, then looked away.

He hated how you could feel someone drifting away even when they were right beside you.

Class dragged on. Pages turned. Pencils tapped. The whiteboard filled with formulas and vocab, but M/N’s mind was elsewhere.

Like how Ni-ki didn’t text him last night. Again.

He used to. Back when their messages had heartbeats. M/N would lie in bed smiling at his phone, rereading dumb things like "missed you today" or "you looked cute stressing over math."

Now? Just a "yo." Or nothing.

M/N stared at his notes. His handwriting looked worse than usual. Messy. Like him.

He could hear the girls laughing nearby, looking at Ni-ki. The same guy who hadn’t touched him in days. The same guy who once kissed the inside of his wrist and said, "I like you even here."

Ni-ki leaned back, twirling a pen. Effortless. Daydream material. Not on purpose. Just who he was. Magnetic. Distant. Close enough to want, far enough to never have.

M/N hated how easily he fit into every crowd. Every room.

Except the one they’d made in secret.

He remembered that night in March. Rainy, like today.

They were in Ni-ki’s rehearsal space, sitting on an old amp, sharing a drink. Dim lights. Warm air. Ni-ki said, "I’ve never done this before."

M/N had smiled. "Me neither."

Maybe that should’ve scared them more.

He let himself believe they were building something real. A world tucked between class breaks and late bus rides. But it was hard to believe when Ni-ki never looked at him in public for more than two seconds.

Harder when those seconds stopped feeling like promises.

The break bell rang.

Ni-ki stood up, already on his phone. “Be right back.”

“Where you going?” M/N asked.

“My best friend needs help with something.”

Them. Always them.

M/N nodded. “Right.”

Ni-ki paused for half a second. Maybe he noticed M/N didn’t sound fine. But not enough to ask.

Then he left.

M/N didn’t move. Just stared at the notebook where his pen had ripped the page. The paper looked tired. Like him.

Outside, the rain picked up. Tapping on the windows like it had something urgent to say.

The seat beside him stayed empty.

He waited. Told himself it was fine. Told himself Ni-ki was just caught up. Told himself things he didn’t believe anymore.

Ten minutes passed. Then fifteen.

The classroom lights dimmed automatically.

Still, M/N stayed seated.

Still, Ni-ki didn’t come back.

He found him near the vending machines by the music hall. The hallway lights were softer there. The cameras didn’t reach. It was always here. Their in-between.

Ni-ki was leaning against the wall, laughing at something on someone else’s phone. Shoulders too close. Familiar in the worst way.

M/N didn’t speak. Just watched.

Then he saw it—Ni-ki’s hand brushing her arm. Light. Casual. Meaningless to anyone else.

But M/N knew that touch.

His stomach twisted. His throat went dry.

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink.

Just let the moment settle, like dust over everything they were.

Ni-ki finally looked up. His smile faltered when he saw M/N. Just a little.

"M/N," he said. Like a warning.

M/N stepped closer. Not angry. Just done.

“Then why’d you tell me to wait?”

Ni-ki pushed off the wall, hands in his pockets. “Yeah, I know. I’m sorry, I just—she needed help with—”

“Yeah, I get it.” M/N’s voice was small. Like a fact he already knew.

He didn’t hate her. Never did. It wasn’t even anger. It was jealousy. Not of her, but of what she got—his attention. His time. The place M/N used to fill.

Ni-ki blinked. “It’s not what you think.”

M/N laughed. Short. Hollow. “Then what is it, Ni-ki? Because I don’t even know what we are anymore. Do you?”

Ni-ki didn’t answer.

The girl nodded quietly and walked away.

Just them now.

M/N stared at the floor. “I didn’t sign up to be someone you only care about when it’s convenient. I didn’t fall for someone who makes me feel like a secret.”

“I didn’t mean to make you feel like that,” Ni-ki said, too soft. Rehearsed. Late.

“Well, you do.” M/N looked at him. “Every. Single. Day.”

The hallway lights flickered. The vending machine buzzed.

“I didn’t think it would get this far,” Ni-ki said. “I thought we were just… messing around. I didn’t know you’d feel this much.”

Strangely, M/N didn’t break. He didn’t cry. He didn’t even feel surprised.

Because he already mourned this. One forgotten message at a time. One excuse. One silence.

“You didn’t know I’d feel this much,” M/N echoed. “Of course you didn’t. You were never really here.”

Ni-ki stayed still, shrinking into his hoodie.

M/N felt calm. Not peace. Just honesty.

“You know,” he said, eyes a little distant, “I didn’t need you to say all the right things. Or love me perfectly. I just thought you’d care enough to show up.”

Ni-ki looked up.

“Some days, your name on my phone felt like gravity. Like the world made sense again. And other days…” He trailed off. “It was like I didn’t exist. And I just kept letting that slide, like I’d signed up for it.”

Ni-ki shifted. “It wasn’t nothing, M/N. I don’t want you to think that.”

Silence. Two people with too much history and not enough future.

M/N rubbed the back of his neck, rainwater still in his hair.

“I guess I just wanted to matter in a way that wasn’t temporary.” He smiled, faint. “Maybe I made it too easy for you to forget me.”

Ni-ki’s jaw tensed.

“I’m sorry,” he said again. But it sounded like guilt, not love.

M/N nodded. A tired, quiet nod.

"That’s all I wanted to hear from you."

He turned to leave, but paused.

“I don’t hate you,” he said. “I just can’t keep hoping you’ll be someone you’re not even trying to be.”

No big scene. No yelling. No running.

Just M/N walking away, deleting their thread from his phone.

Outside, the rain kept falling.

But for once, M/N didn’t need to stand in it to be noticed.

He just walked forward. And didn’t look back.

[bellysoupset]

Relapse - I

Warning! This has some fat shaming language/thoughts coming from Wendy towards herself, as well as swirling ED thoughts. This blog does not condone either of those things and if you're struggling with ED, let a loved one know, please. Also, I have no experience in this area, so my inbox is open to criticisms and helpful nudges, just don't be mean 🙈

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

Having Vince home was like a dream come true. Having been living alone for all of her adult life, Wendy thought that getting used to sharing a space was going to take more of an effort, specially with a guy who occupied as much space as her boyfriend.

That wasn't the case, though. She had been fully bracing for their relationship to get a bit rocky as they were faced with the day to day challenges and arguments that dating long distance didn't allow for, but turned out Vince was simply the perfect roommate.

He was almost always in a good mood and even when he wasn't, Vince just sulked a bit and buried his face in a book, it was easy to ignore or talk about the issue. He didn't need her to list him chores, he got to those on his own like a functional adult, and he was the best cook in the world, so Wendy couldn't even remember the last time she had set foot inside her kitchen.

She was beyond thrilled by this unexpected turn of events, so it was much to her displeasure that Wendy caught herself obsessing over the relationship weight she was gaining by living with Vin.

"Silver?" Angie, Jonah's baby sister, asked in a bright, excited voice. She was like a puppy following her brother around the dress store and Wendy was happy to watch them interact, just as long as she didn't have to try anything on. She had the irking sensation that whatever it was she tried on, it wasn't going to look flattering and today wasn't a good day to deal with the body dysmorphia that accompanied that.

"It's not quite silver," Jon explained, sitting on the fancy couch in the middle of the store and grabbing one of the many heavy tomes filled with fabric squares, "it's like halfway between gold and silver."

"Aged silver?" Wendy asked, sitting next to him and taking the book so she could flip through the pages quicker than he was. Jonah frowned, studying the samples, until he smacked the book open on her lap.

"This one!"

It was a warm toned grey, that was the best way Wendy could describe it. Too dark to be a greyge... It was alright. Personally, Wen would rather it was a sage green, but she knew it was a challenge to pick a color that would flatter her and Angie, since they were in completely different color spectrums.

"That's pretty," Angie cooed, resting her chin on her brother's shoulder, "and what fabric? Shiny? Oooh, I saw this really pretty organza-"

Wendy zoned them out. All day she had felt weirdly anxious, starting during breakfast and getting worse during lunch. Now she wanted to go home, before-

"-try them on?" Jonah's voice cut through her anxiety and Wen blinked quickly, trying to situate herself.

"I'm sorry?"

"Can you and Angie try some of them on?" Jonah repeated his question and now he was gesturing to a pile of various warm-silver dresses. Wendy nodded, stiffly rubbing her neck and trying to force her spirits back up.

She was Jonah's maid of honor, she needed to be more upbeat than this.

"Of course," she got up, grabbing a couple of the dresses that she figured were for her judging by the sizing and then walked ahead to the dressing room.

Dressing rooms were the bane of Wendy's existence. She loved shopping, but more often than not she'd just judge something by holding it up in front of her and then try it at home, dealing with the hassle of returning what didn't fit or looked weird.

In truth, she could count in one hand the amount of times she had been in a dressing room, unless she counted the times she was helping Bella, but Wendy didn't count those. The place was stuffy, the mirror seemed to enlarge her, she couldn't move around and the lighting was awful-

"Oh this is so pretty," she overhead Jonah gush, that paternalistic tone slipping into his voice as he saw Angie in her dress, "what do you think, darling?"

"I love the color," Angie's voice travelled, all giggly, and Wendy struggled with the zipper on her back, "I don't know about this shape though, kinda makes me look like a stick."

Jonah snorted at her comment, "I guess it does make you look rather flat. Try the other one on."

Wendy gave up with the zipper, resting her forehead to the plastic partition of the dressing room and taking deep, measured breaths. She was not going to cry in a fucking dress store. There was a burning in her eyes and her nose, tingling all over her face.

"Dee?" Jonah's knuckles tapped against the door, "darling, you need a hand?"

"Just- Just give me a minute!" Wendy called out, forcing her voice to not sound strained and glaring at her reflection. It was a one-shoulder dress, long pieces of fabric draping over her shoulder and the whole thing was squeezing her in an air-tight manner, even if the back was still open, "Uhm, I-" Wendy bit down her lip, forcing her voice to steady up, "can you get me a bigger number? This one's not working."

"Sure," Jonah agreed, "which one is it? Can I see?"

"All of them," Wendy answered briskly, just wanting to get rid of him, "get me in size up."

"Alright," she heard him walk away and Wendy quickly peeled off the dress, putting it back on the hanger with the other untouched ones and hanging it outside her door.

Jon came back a couple minutes later, knocking once again, "here," he waited for her to open the door and Wendy hesitated. It wasn't like he hadn't seen her in her underwear before, it was that today she felt particularly vulnerable, "Wendy?"

She couldn't bear facing the humiliation of Jonah comforting her in the middle of a store over something that was entirely on her. She should've known better than to eat every fucking pastry Vince decided to bake.

Wendy pushed the door open, lowering her eyes so he couldn't read her face as easily, "thanks. I'll be right out."

In the end, Jonah liked her in an off-shoulder dress, with a slit on her leg and that Wendy had to objectively say was quite pretty, even if it wasn't the final product.

"I'll get it tailored," Jon circled her in a judgmental manner, oblivious to the fact Wendy was itching to take it off and avoiding her reflection at all costs, "I think we can sinch it in here," he pinched her waist, "and here," he pinched the excess fabric on her back, "are you sure the previous number was too tight?"

"I'm positive," Wendy scoffed, then opened a relieved smile as Angie got out of her dressing room with her final outfit, a strapless dress with a romantic heart shaped neckline, hugging her slim figure, "I'm gonna go change..." Wendy forced a smile, "you look great, Angie."

"You don't think its too revealing?" Angelina tugged on the mermaid cut of it, hugging her hips.

"Nope, not at all," Wendy rushed inside the changing room, peeling the dress off as fast as she could. Now her cheeks were flushed and she was feeling downright ravenous.

Because that was the irony of it all, right? The more she stressed about how she looked and the digits on her scale, the more she ate and then things got out of hand before she could reign it in.

But she was happy. Her best friend was getting married and her boyfriend was a dream come true and her job was going perfectly and she wasn't about to fucking relapse.

In the end, Wendy returned home on her own, since Jonah took Angie back to his place so she could have dinner with Leo and him. She didn't mind it, because the minute Wendy closed her car door and was certain she was alone, she burst into tears.

Ugly, soul sucking sobs that were coming from deep in her chest and a claustrophobic grip making it hard to breathe. She lowered her forehead to the steering wheel, whole body shaking as the tears kept running, destroying her make up and making her whole face red and swollen.

For one moment, she really thought she was going to drown in her own tears. Then the panic stopped, the tight grip in her throat eased and she went boneless, head pounding with a fresh headache.

"Fuck..." Wendy leaned her head back, rubbing the mascara tears away and cringing at her reflection on the rearview mirror. She looked like a mess, "way to go, Wendy..." she grumbled at herself, reaching for her purse to redo her makeup and finally driving out of the parking lot.

"Hey sugar cube," Vince was already home when she walked in and Wendy forced up a smile, leaning against the kitchen door with a raised eyebrow.

"Sugar cube?"

"I'm trying it out," Vin's cheeks turned pink and he turned around, crossing the kitchen to kiss her, cupping her cheeks with only his wrists as his hands were currently wet, "you don't like it?"

"It's a little corny," Wendy grinned, tiptoeing so she could kiss him harder. She could almost forget the parking lot breaking down in this kiss, so she curled her hands on the neckline of his shirt, pulling him closer. Vince took one step forward, causing her back to meet the kitchen door and he chuckled in her mouth.

"Someone's horny," he moved his face, in order to press a kiss to her temple, "but I'm cooking."

"I'm not hungry," the words were out of her mouth before she could think them through. A big, fat lie, her stomach was squeezing with hunger, but she was scared of eating when feeling like this. It was like walking into a trap, either she'd eat too much or she'd not eat enough and then eat later or she'd obsess over the calories- She just needed to get through this day. One bad day was not a relapse.

"Uh, rude?" Vince wrinkled his nose in a playful manner, "you're not the only one in this house?"

Oh.

Wendy blushed, shaking her head and letting out a little hysterical chuckle, "yeah, right. Sorry," she tugged on her blouse, "I'm gonna go change. Unless you need help?"

"Nope, get out of my kitchen-" Vince waved her off, then before she could go, he grabbed the back of her jeans, pulling her closer, "wait. Give me one last kiss."

She promptly melted into his arms, kissing him back one last time before heading back to her room.

It felt amazing to change out of her constricting clothes and into her stay at home sweats. They were all Disney themed, this one was Cinderella inspired and had the quote "Cinderella is proof a good pair of shoes can change your life" on the front.

It caused Vince to snort when he saw her, rolling his eyes and serving the table, "that's cute. Cinderella is also proof you only need one pair, not fifty, honey."

"Eh, she grew up when malls didn't exist, what does she know?" Wendy grumbled, sitting down next to him. The mention of a mall brought up the shopping trip from before and Wendy's smile fell.

"Are you sure you're not hungry? Did you eat while out with Jon?" Vince sat next to her, starting to load up his plate. Wendy shrugged, curling up on her chair.

"I ate," she promised, "how was your day? How were classes?"

Vince didn't need any incentive to launch himself into a detailed rant about his classes. If she thought he liked teaching in Doveport, clearly it didn't compare to how thrilled he seemed to be about his new job. It had a bigger workload, but it was a fancy school where his classes had more funding and he had more freedom to do whatever he wanted.

"You're teaming up with the theater head?" Wendy grinned, "that'll be fun, I always knew you were a theater kid at heart."

"I'm Troy Bolton, torn between theater and sports," Vince teased her, grabbing her chair so he could pull her closer, "it'll be fun, I'm having them draft up assignments on the Elizabethean period, since they'll doing a Shakespeare play."

Her stomach clenched with hunger and Wendy pulled back, scooting her chair away from him and causing Vince to frown, although he didn't say anything.

"Uhm, what- What play are they going to be doing?" Wendy's mouth was watering.

"They're teenagers, so of course it's Romeo and Juliet. Literature teacher played them the Leo Di Caprio version-"

"It's my favorite version," Wendy squirmed on her seat, then got up, "sorry, I- I'm not feeling so hot, I think I'm going to lie down, Vin."

"You're not feeling well?" Vince dropped his fork back down, getting up too, "I knew something was wrong. What is it? Is it a migraine?"

"No," Wendy shook her head, grabbing his hands as they came to cup her cheeks, "no, I'm fine. It's just a bit of a stomachache..."

"Oh honey," Vince pouted, "you should've said something, I wouldn't have made you sit here with me. I can make some soup, do you think you could-"

"NO!" Wendy jumped back, then shook her head, blushing like crazy. She was making a fool of herself, "I just want to lie down, okay? I'm fine, it's just a bit of a bellyache."

"Okay..." Vince was frowning once more, "go ahead and get comfy, I'll bring you some tea."

Wendy let out a sigh, realizing there was no fighting him there, and nodded, moving back to their room. She promptly curled up on the bed, feeling stupid and overly dramatic. It was just a bad day, she didn't need to be acting up like this.

She felt like crying and slightly nauseous due to the hunger. Wendy closed her eyes, hoping she could fall asleep before Vin came back and started questioning her.

No such luck, he was back only ten minutes later, holding a tall mug filled with tea and looking concerned as he sat on the edge of the bed.

"Here, doll," he passed her the mug, "what's wrong with your belly? Is it gas?" he moved his hand to lift up her hoodie and Wendy immediately pushed it away, almost causing her tea to spill. Vince's eyebrows jumped up.

"Wen?"

"I don't-" she lowered the mug back to her bedside table, "can you please just drop it? It's not a good day, Vin, I just wanna be quiet."

"Okay..." his brows all but met in a frown, but he didn't argue, instead leaning in to kiss her forehead, "do you wanna be quiet together...? We could watch something... Or I could let you have the room, if you want some space."

God, she loved him. It was so unfair, she had won the fucking lottery of boyfriends and she was messing it all up.

Wendy let out a little sniffle, curling up even more, eyes burning and tearing up.

"Oh honey," Vince's arms moved to wrap her up in a hug, "okay. Okay, that's fine. You had a bad day, I get it," he pulled her to sit on his lap, so he could take her spot on the bed and Wendy wrapped herself up in his arms, pressing her face to his chest, "whatever is upsetting you, you can talk with me..."

She shook her head, stomach growling, but Vin completely misunderstood it.

"Your belly's hurting, right? What meds can I get you?"

"Can you-" Wendy's voice was all hoarse, "can you just hold me?"

Understanding she wanted him quiet, Vin shut up, continuing to rub her back and leaning against the pillows, spreading out on the bed. They stayed like this for such a long time, that he ended up falling asleep, lulled by her weight against him and a full tummy on top of a workday.

Wendy, however, was still painfully awake, upset and hungry.

TBC

[xo2dee]

NOW LOADING. .

LADS MASTERLIST

DESSERT

PAIRING: Sylus x (Fem)Reader WARNINGS: MDNI/18+ ONLY. Oral sex, cunnilingus, face-sitting. WORD COUNT: 2,394 SUMMARY: And what else does Sylus want for his birthday? Of course he wants you to sit on his face.

A/N: his bday memory was so sweet i feel like a freak for this but who gaf. HAPPY BDAY SYLUS

Three letters. One word. One syllable. And one definition with one purpose behind it but a multitude of different places to do it. Just one tiny word that had you freezing in your spot and widening your eyes once you realized what Sylus was insinuating.

“Sit.”

If your eyes could’ve bulged out of your head you were sure they did then, a new, horribly embarrassed appearance painting your face at him asking for you to sit on his face. Though as flustered as you were that he said it so indifferently, you couldn’t help that snaking sensation of invigorating thrill over him wanting you to do so. You met his eyes and then looked off around towards anywhere that wasn’t there since he was back to the soul-piercing gaze again, nevermind the fact you were literally hovering your drenched pussy over his face either…

You couldn’t help but to fall back onto his chest, sitting atop all pretty in the lingerie you had bought for his birthday as he rose one lone eyebrow at your sudden shy behavior. It wasn’t like it was the first time for either of you too, and Sylus had spent a generous amount of time with his face in-between your legs, but you’d never actively sat on his face in the throes of intimacy. A cough left you as you looked off the side, slightly confused on why on the night of his birthday he was wanting you to sit on his face rather than get the ride of his life from you, or even getting the best head he’d ever gotten, and you had to stop the goosebumps spreading across your entire body when his rich chuckle vibrated your inner thighs.

“Cold feet?” he asked after a few moments, finger idly drawing patterns into your thighs as he waited for you to gather yourself.

Rolling your eyes you tapped a rhythm onto his chest, “No, just… didn’t think this was what you’d want for your birthday.” If anything, you thought the way he’d been eyeballing you in your dress all night meant you would get your hands on him for vigorous rounds of sex until he was worn down into the mattress, yet he threw you for a loop the moment you surprised him with your lingerie and he only curled an index finger forward for you to wiggle your hips up to his face. That was what had you stumped, and nevermind you were all but dripping waiting for it to happen, you just didn’t know if he’d live the encounter…

“Why not?” His eyes lidded as they trailed up the expanse of your inner thighs and into where your cunt laid shadowed by the negligee, “Everyone wants dessert on their birthday.” He even chuckled at his own (bad) joke, like he was the funniest person to ever walk the planet.

You groaned at the awful joke – nothing but a cornball he’d been all night, “Sylus…”

A sigh swelled the expanse of his chest, his hands moving away from your thighs to instead massage his thumbs into your hipbones. The thick carnality left his gaze for the moment, replaced by genuine interest once he saw the way you were stalling, “What’s bothering you?” he spoke tenderly as he soothed you, and you couldn’t help but feel slightly ashamed for what you were going to say.

Hugging your arms closer to your body, you looked off towards a spot beside his ear as your own began to burn from your shameful admission, “What if… What if I suffocate you?”

There, you said it. And it sounded even worse said aloud, but apparently to Sylus he found the entire ordeal humorous as he began to laugh so hard he began to shake you. You couldn’t help the scowl, playfully swatting at his chest to get him to stop laughing and take you seriously and only achieving in doing so when you closed your thighs enough to where it squished his cheeks together. Ruby eyes squinted at you before he nipped at your inner thigh, his hands sliding back down to your thighs to pull them apart as your body began to raise on its own again.

His chuckle tickled you, using the hold he had on your thighs to slowly rock you back and forth, “It hurts you don’t have more faith in me, sweetie,” he reassured you as he walked you back to hovering directly over his mouth, his face the literal poster of desire if you ever saw it and his eyes pooling with unbridled lust as he eyed the darkened spot of your panties, “I think I can handle Little Miss Hunter sitting on my face. And if I forget to come up for air?” One lone eyebrow arched again, a shrug accompanying it as he hummed, “Well, consider me bested.”

He had a point, and you knew he was right. So really it was your own shameful embarrassment that was holding you back from you both getting what you wanted. And really, what was the difference from the various other times he’d had his nose in your pussy? It was basically the same premise, yet that time… a little up close and personal…

You exhaled heavily as you came out of your thoughts from him softly massaging into your thighs, shifting closer to him as you placed your hands onto the headboard and giving him affirmation, “Okay, just… push me off or something if it gets to be too much.”

“I won’t.”

Before you could ask what he meant and if he meant it about being uncomfortable or the way you weren’t even able to pull your panties to the side or even get them fucking off, Sylus had grasped your waist in a strong grip and pulled you down to sit directly over his awaiting mouth. You gasped as your nails dug into the headboard from his tenacity, the gasp during into a squeal when he full-on pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the material of your panties over your sopping opening before swiping his tongue along your clothed slit and began to suck through them while groaning loudly at the taste of your fluids soaked into your panties.

Your back arched immediately as you felt him huff into your panties before swiping his tongue along you again, another high-pitched whine leaving you before you were able to gather your bearings, “Sylus! At least let me take my panties off…” Oh he was eager for it.

He had the audacity to groan, one hand sliding down your hip as you only lifted up a fraction while the other came to hook a finger into the front of your panties. After pushing your panties to the side far enough for him to seat his mouth back along your cunt, he was already lapping upward onto your slit with just the tip of his tongue to start out with. Your eyes closed as he returned his other hand to your hip, encouraging you to begin swinging your hips atop his mouth and face with his thumb rubbing slow circles into your hip bones to better reassure you. You began to follow along with his movements as you rode his face, his pointed nose better hitting your swollen clit as you moved more.

Your thighs nearly closed on his head again as you dropped one hand from the headboard and coiled a good chunk of his hair into your hand and used the hold you had on it for leverage to move your hips faster along his face and get his nose rub your clit better. The answering result from that was his lips closing in around your folds and sucking hard while you keened and nearly ripped some of his hair out of his head in the process.

He grunted that time from the tug you gave his hair, arching your back further inwards and lolling your head to hazily gaze at a spot on his ceiling once it vibrated into you. Sylus’ tousled hair wisped along your inner thighs as you rocked your hips for more of that tickling sensation and to get him where you really wanted him, his face burying deeper and literally inside of you when your lips began pushing out louder noises.

“Fuck –! Sylus!” Were the first two words you were able to conjure up since you sat on his face, your hand on the headboard returning to scratching at it as you interwove your fingers into the silvery strands atop his head. You heard him groan again, the noise reverberating through your pussy as he curled his tongue along them in every which way to gather as much of your slick as he could to lather it upon his tastebuds.

Your eyes rolled, your hips desperately trying to rock harder against his face for his tongue to push deeper into your cunt and his nose to hit your clit in just the right spot. Your hand on the headboard had moved to fist the sheets next to his head to anchor yourself as you began to tug and pull as much as you could for how your mind was beginning to spin into dizziness and your legs were beginning grow weaker as the seconds passed both of you. Your anxiety was gone then, a fleeting thought to criticize yourself later for even being worried in the first place retaining to what he was doing and the knowledge that he liked it.

The amount of loud moans he was pulling out of you was downright sinful, your grinding picking up as you tugged his hair hard enough to lift his head a fraction and have that pointed tip he possessed on his nose slide right along the perfect spot atop your clit. He groaned loud into your sopping cunt then, making you clench hard around his tongue while your eyes fluttered shut when the vibration of it expanded out from inside of you and tingled up towards your clit while your fingers tugged harsher onto his hair to get another delicious moan from him to echo into your pussy.

Your muscles felt practically useless and the noises you were producing growing louder as his enthusiasm grew tenfold when his hold on your waist doubled down to almost bruising and you started to hear his breathing become labor. He was getting off to again just as much as you were, and the thought sent a hard curl downwards to where your anticipated release grew rapidly and out of control.

You were close.

It was debauch in the way you desperately chased after your release in the form of freely fucking his face while he didn’t seem to mind that you were using him so greedily, his own gluttony showing in the way he was eagerly rolling and twisting his tongue about your pussy and teetering you down to come undone around the appendage again.

You jerked at his hair and shook your head when you felt the quivering of your legs increase, “Sylus,  I’m so close, please –" you broke yourself off with another whimper as the only answer he gave to that was to pull you impossibly closer, hands sliding up once to fondle your tits in a squeeze before he smoothed them back down your abdomen and let one fasten atop your thigh in a hard grip as the other hand trailed further down to let the pad of his thumb rub away at your swollen clit in fast tight circles.

You moaned his name again in a wail, your eyebrows furrowing with sweat beginning to line your brow as the combined factor of his tongue-fucking, clit rubbing and your grinding was nearly too much for you to bear. The thought had you unraveling at a devastating pace, your eyes rolling back into your head as Sylus’s tongue slithered out of your pussy and his hot breath sifted across your thighs and opening before he was latching onto your cunt in a kiss with a breathless moan as he ran the fat on his tongue in quick licks to pull you down further down into ecstasy.

“Sylus –”

Your hips rolled faster, harder.

Sylus’s tongue licked and sucked faster, harder.

Another loud groan vibrated your entire cunt and your thighs constricted more around his head as they began to roughly shake with another pornographic moan falling out your mouth. The pressure in you was too large to ignore then, spine tightening as you sought relief for it and when Sylus’s thumb returned to rubbing harsh circles into your clit and his tongue wiggled along your opening teasing it and you could feeeeeeel –

You didn’t get another chance to warn him when the coil inside of you broke free and your cunt clenched harshly around nothing and you felt that pressure flood out of you tenfold and all into his awaiting mouth.

All the tension inside of you sprung forward like a geyser finally erupting from underground. The cry of his name (you were sure all of the N109 Zone probably heard) with your head thrown as far back as you could get it earned you another groan from him, albeit that time louder than he had been doing as it morphed into a softer moan whenever he got the full visceral taste of your cum pouring straight into his mouth and onto his tongue that he absolutely devoured. Your thighs were shaking hard around his head, and your toes had curled so hard and fingers had pulled at his hair so roughly once more to help you ride out the harsh orgasm while he slowed his rubbing onto your clit to soft massaging to help you float back down out of post-climax clarity.

You slid off of his face after a few moments, completely boneless as you flopped down to lay atop his panting form and only hearing his breathless chuckle in your ear as you could think of some way you’d get him back eventually. You were too blissed out at that moment, feeling his hand smoother over the back of your head as his lips found your ear with a small nibble.

“I suppose we’ll doing this again. And next time you can sit on my face for hours until I drown – a much better obstacle than suffocation.”