#in that moment where he is completely vulnerable and fragile all he thinks about is Lucy

[wannaeatramyeon]

How Lookism men confess to YOU they've caught feelings

G/N. Soft. Fluffy. All that good stuff. (Gun, Jake, Goo, James Lee/DG, Johan, Vin, Samuel, Eli, Ryuhei)

Gun opts for somewhere private, just the two of you. Whether that's his home, yours, or somewhere only you both know.

He tells you with certainty his feelings for you. That there's no point divulging if he didn't think it would work out, if you weren't better together.

Intensity radiates from him. His words, eyes, aura. He keeps his confession simple and to the point, unexpectedly romantic with how matter of fact he is.

.

.

Jake thought he was being subtle, but there's a lot of prying eyes in the shadows.

He shoos the Big Deal members away in his best authoritative, no nonsense boss tone. The one he reserves to deal with serious matters. Which this is. Of utmost seriousness.

Behind his beaming toothy grin and confident stance are anxious eyes. His words are cheesy and well-rehearsed. Sincerity pulses through his every fibre, leaving you starry eyed and breath hitched.

.

.

Goo announces his feelings with a grin on his lips.

Corners you somewhere crowded, at a completely inappropriate moment. But of course. It's only inappropriate if Goo deems it to be so, and there's no time like the present.

The words are said lightly, like he could play it off as a joke any moment. His ego too fragile for rejection. But his carefree attitude is off kilter, body language tense. Gaze steady and more serious than you have ever seen.

.

.

James is flippant. The arrogant, cocky man claims you as his already. Confesses without any doubt in his mind that rejection could happen, or it could sting.

He's not a gambling man. Only plays when the odds are in his favour and the gains far outweighs the losses.

There's no ifs or buts. Talks about 'us' and 'we' and a future where you're by his side.

.

.

Johan pulls out the words reluctantly and when you least expect. Like they will choke him if he keeps it from you any longer.

He says it without looking at you. Eyes fixed on the ground, a point in the distance, Miro, Eden, anywhere but you.

Brows knitted together, hands white knuckled. A second away from running away. But he needs to tell you, he has to. The words are too big to swallow down anymore.

.

.

Vin peppers his confession with insults and half-jokes. A type of self defence to spare his heart.

Hands in pocket, like it's no big deal. Words spilling out, trying to inject indifference into them. Back against the wall, peering over at you. 

Sunglasses firmly on, eyes shielded. Because he can't bear to be any more vulnerable than he has to right now. His words are barbed and prickly, but his feelings are completely bared.

.

.

Samuel offers his heart in between lofty promises and delusions of grandeur.

Words murmured against the back of your hand, breath ghosting over your skin. Eyes fixed on yours, fiery and almost challenging you to say no.

But a relentless phantom haunts him, one that he silences over and over again.

-That being by his side won't be enough, that offering you to be his queen is inadequate, lacking and there's so much more that you deserve.

Still, he promises you the world and is committed to giving you nothing less.

.

.

Trepidation lines Eli’s words. Like he can’t believe he’s here again. After everything that has happened, with everything on his plate.

He’s forced himself to make room for you, carved out a part of his life.

He confesses in a cramped dusty room in Hostel. Sat opposite one another on rickety uneven chairs, so close your knees are touching and there’s no personal space left. 

Body leaning forward, craving your touch and proximity as he rids the last remnants of hesitancy and takes a leap of faith.

.

.

Ryuhei tells you over and over again.

Until it becomes a daily mantra of sorts for him, and part of your day for you. At first as a joke, or at least you thought so. And then his earnestness snowballed until you could no longer ignore it.

He confesses, with the same sort of childish joy he always feels when he's with you. Tonight, his blood is thrumming in his vein and his pulse is beating in his ears.

With a hushed voice and hope in his eyes: he tells you once more.

[emmylksblog]

ONE STEP AT A TIME // Héctor Fort

summary: after a big fight, you’re feeling like a total fraud but still show up to Hector’s game. Emotions run high, but a sweet moment brings you back together. based on this request.

genre: slight angst, fluff

warnings: none

a/n: hey girlies! 💅 it's been a while since i last posted, where did the time go? life got hectic with uni and all that grown-up stuff that i just went survival mode for a while 😰 but i’m back tryna be consistent 🫶🏻

The final whistle echoes through the stadium, and as the crowd begins to disperse, you make your way to the players’ exit, weaving through clusters of fans. Your heart pounds, a mix of worry and anticipation tightening your chest.

You finally catch sight of Hector, walking off the field with a noticeable limp. He’s putting on a brave face, smiling politely at fans, but you notice the tension around his eyes, the way he tries to mask his discomfort.

“Hector!” you call out, your voice getting lost in the hum of the crowd. He turns at the sound of your voice, eyes searching for a moment until they land on you. His expression shifts—first surprise, then something softer, almost relieved. He takes a few hesitant steps toward you, and you close the gap.

“Hey, I didn’t think you’d be here,” he says, his voice warm but guarded. He tries to meet your gaze, but his eyes flicker with hesitation, as if he’s unsure of what to say after days of silence between you.

“Of course I came,” you reply, keeping your tone steady, though your heart feels heavy with everything left unsaid. You glance down at his leg, noticing how he shifts his weight to avoid putting too much pressure on it. “Are you okay? That looked pretty rough.”

He chuckles softly, rubbing the back of his neck, but the smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, just a bit bruised. The medics insisted I sit out the rest of the game, but it’s not as bad as it looks.”

Your eyes linger on his leg, catching every wince and grimace he tries to hide. “Come on, let me take you home,” you offer, voice gentle but firm. He hesitates, looking like he’s about to refuse, but something in your expression makes him nod.

The car ride is quiet, the city lights casting soft shadows across his face as he stares out the window, lost in thought. You steal a few glances his way, trying to read him, feeling the weight of unspoken words between you. Your heart aches to explain everything, to ease his worry, but the words feel stuck, too fragile to break the silence yet.

When you finally arrive at his apartment, he takes a step out of the car, flinching slightly as he shifts his weight. You reach out instinctively, offering your arm for support. He gives you a small, grateful smile, and you both walk inside, each step slow and careful.

Inside, you help him ease onto the couch, and he lets out a deep, relieved sigh as he stretches his leg out. Without a word, you head to the kitchen, grabbing an ice pack and a towel. Kneeling beside him, you press the cold pack gently to his injury, your hands moving carefully, focused on not causing him any more pain.

He watches you quietly, his gaze lingering on your face. “Thank you,” he says softly, his voice carrying a hint of something vulnerable. “You didn’t have to do this.”

You pause, glancing up at him, your fingers still on the ice pack. “I wanted to be here,” you say, your voice barely a whisper. You drop your gaze, suddenly feeling exposed. “I know I haven’t been around much. And I’m sorry.”

His brows knit together, and he studies you with a mixture of concern and confusion. “What’s going on?” he asks gently. “You’ve been so distant, I thought… I don’t know, that you needed space or maybe… I was making things harder for you.”

You feel a pang in your chest, his words hitting closer to home than you’d like to admit. You try to find the right words, the ones that will explain everything without unraveling you completely. “It’s… it’s not you,” you say finally, glancing down at his hand resting on his knee.

Your fingers brush against his in a brief, hesitant movement before you pull back. “I just… I feel like a fraud sometimes. Like I’m constantly putting on a face for everyone, and I don’t know who I’m supposed to be anymore. And I didn’t want to bring you into that.”

He’s silent for a moment, his gaze steady and unwavering. Then, he reaches out, his hand covering yours in a gentle but firm grip. “You’re not a fraud,” he says, his tone soft yet resolute. “And even if you don’t believe that right now, I do. I see you—all of you. And I’m here because I want to be, not because of some version you think I expect.”

Your breath catches, the weight of his words sinking in. You look away, blinking back the emotions threatening to spill over. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a soothing, grounding motion.

For a long moment, you sit in silence, letting his words sink in, feeling the warmth of his hand against yours. Slowly, you look up, meeting his gaze, feeling a flicker of relief settle in your chest.

“I just… I don’t want to let you down,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper.

He lets out a soft chuckle, shaking his head as he leans back, still holding your hand. “You could never let me down,” he says, a gentle smile tugging at his lips. “We’re in this together, okay? Whatever you’re going through, you don’t have to go through it alone.”

His words hit you like a wave, and you feel the last of your walls begin to crumble. Without thinking, you lean forward, resting your head on his shoulder, feeling his arm come around you in a steady, comforting embrace. He doesn’t say anything else, doesn’t push for more. He simply holds you, his presence a quiet reassurance that, no matter how messy things get, he’s here.

You stay there for a while, the tension between you slowly dissolving, replaced by the familiar warmth of his closeness. After what feels like an eternity, Hector pulls back slightly, tilting your chin up gently with his fingers so you’re looking into his eyes.

“I care about you,” he says softly, sincerity etched on his face. “You’re not alone in this.”

In that moment, you feel everything you’ve been holding onto begin to lift, replaced by the quiet, steady assurance of his love. You’re about to say something, to thank him, when he leans down and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. The tenderness of the gesture sends warmth flooding through you, solidifying the connection that had felt frayed just moments before.

“Let’s take it one step at a time,” he whispers, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. And as you lean into him again, you know that together, you’ll find your way through the chaos, one step at a time.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Still going through the slowest Deathly Hallows reread, and I encountered this lovely Tomarrymort moment I felt like sharing. I mean, I saw some people mention how Hermione refers to their mental connection as a relationship:

“You never really tried!” she said hotly. “I don’t get it, Harry—do you like having this special connection or relationship or what—whatever—” She faltered under the look he gave her as he stood up. “Like it?” he said quietly. “Would you like it?” “I—no—I’m sorry, Harry, I didn’t mean—” “I hate it, I hate the fact that he can get inside me, that I have to watch him when he’s most dangerous. But I’m going to use it.”

(DH, 202)

Above Harry clearly denies it, but later in Deathly Hallows, there's a moment I didn't see talked about as much, where Harry, in his own mind, agrees with Hermione:

Harry was just able to make out the indistinct features of an object that looked like a skull, and something like a mountain that was more shadow than substance. Used to images sharp as reality, Harry was disconcerted by the change. He was worried that the connection between himself and Voldemort had been damaged, a connection that he both feared and, whatever he had told Hermione, prized. Somehow Harry connected these unsatisfying, vague images with the destruction of his wand, as if it was the blackthorn wand’s fault that he could no longer see into Voldemort’s mind as well as before

(DH, 375)

Not only did Harry lie to Hermione but he actually prizes his connection to Voldemort for its usefulness and for the sense of purpose it gives Harry. Now, I want to expand on the latter one.

I already talked about how in Deathly Hallows, Voldemort's sole purpose and obsession is Harry, but, Harry isn't much different. Like, he has a few other things going on, but a lot of his sense of purpose and sense of self hinges on Voldemort.

The reason these visions from Voldemort become so important to him is that he feels it's the only useful thing he can do since they're stuck on the Horcruxes' front. They give him a sense of purpose. The fact he connects the loss of his connection with Voldemort and the destruction of his wand is so fascinating to me.

Because Harry's wand is so important to him, he describes it as a piece of himself, like a living thing that is part of him:

The holly and phoenix wand was nearly severed in two. One fragile strand of phoenix feather kept both pieces hanging together. The wood had splintered apart completely. Harry took it into his hands as though it was a living thing that had suffered a terrible injury. He could not think properly. Everything was a blur of panic and fear. Then he held out the wand to Hermione

(DH, 300)

Without realizing it, he was digging his fingers into his arms as if he were trying to resist physical pain. He had spilled his own blood more times than he could count; he had lost all the bones in his right arm once; this journey had already given him scars to his chest and forearm to join those on his hand and forehead, but never, until this moment, had he felt himself to be fatally weakened, vulnerable, and naked, as though the best part of his magical power had been torn from him.

(DH, 303)

Connecting something he thinks about like this and his connection to Voldemort is... well, it's interesting, to say the least.

I mean, of course, there is the twin core and its protection, and it's clear why he would connect his wand to Voldemort, but Harry was always fond of his wand despite its connection to Voldemort, not because of it:

Harry had never shared this piece of information with anybody. He was very fond of his wand, and as far as he was concerned its relation to Voldemort’s wand was something it couldn’t help �� rather as he couldn’t help being related to Aunt Petunia.

(GoF, 310)

So, I find all this kinda interesting. How during the final book Harry's sense of purpose and being becomes more and more hinged on Voldemort while essentially the same thing is going on with Voldemort who forgot about the ministry entirly and is only focused on killing Harry.

[cuubism]

HURT/COMFORT PROMPTS YOU SAY *pulls out giant scroll* okay what about (probably human) trans chronically ill dream dealing with a health crisis and hob is trying to support him through it? bonus points: maybe dream's parents are being shitheads so dream and hob have to get _married_ to make sure dream's wishes in hospital or wherever are respected?

(from meadow. i am not having feelings about anything in particular, Why would you Ask.)

@meadowziplines this was supposed to be angsty but it just ended up kind of wholesome tbh. that's the opposite of what usually happens to me

you've seen married for tax purposes before, now see married for next of kin legal rights

--

Hob knew he wanted to marry Dream within two weeks of their first date, but he tried to be reasonable about it. Dream was shy and guarded his hard-won independence closely, and Hob felt that just declaring his eternal love too quickly was a sure way to scare him off. So he didn't.

Now he's regretting it, because hell, it would have made this so much easier. That's not how he wants to think about marrying Dream, about it making being in a hospital easier, but here they are. And he is.

And it's why he's hiding around a corner as Dream's parents are "visiting"--more like being complete assholes--his hospital room. God, Hob hates them. This whole situation is the only reason he's even met them--Dream doesn't talk to them anymore, and for good reason, but the moment they caught wind of vulnerability they pounced on the chance to regain control.

Dream is an adult and can make his own decisions, but Mr. and Mrs. Cunt have proven very slippery and manipulative and have played the 'Hob's not family, we're family' card at every possible turn to get him kicked out of the room. Hob's gotten a couple of the nurses on his side on account of not being a complete asshole but he still doesn't like his chances duking it out in front of hospital administration over who gets to make Dream's medical decisions if he's incapacitated.

Dream's fought so hard to have control over his own life. Hob won't let him lose it.

Which is why he's currently hiding behind the vending machines until they leave, rather than going in there and telling them where to shove it.

He waits with bated breath until they're gone, then scrambles out, rushing down the hall with his paperwork and slipping into Dream's room. He feels like a criminal. Which is exactly why he's doing all this.

"Hob," Dream breathes, as Hob closes the door behind him. He looks exhausted. Terrible parents who insist on disrespecting you are not good for fragile health. "I thought you left."

Hob flashes him a grin, but feels how it wobbles. "Never. Just had to go get something."

He's so nervous about how Dream will react to this. It feels so likely to go wrong.

He sits in the chair by the bed so he's on Dream's level, takes his hand. "Listen, baby. This-- this really isn't how I wanted to do this. But I just-- I really don't want things to go wrong, you know? And if they do go wrong, I want us to be able to do something about it. I want to be in your corner."

His anxious rambling makes Dream's face start to fall. "Hob..."

Hob thrusts the paperwork at him. "Will you marry me?"

He had something so much more romantic in his head for the moment he finally asked Dream to marry him. He would have swept him off his feet and made him feel special. If only it could have been different.

Dream picks up the papers, seemingly in shock. "This is..."

"I did all the paperwork already, it just needs signatures," Hob tells him. "And I bribed one of the nurses to let us out for an hour to go to the registrar's office. If. If you want."

Dream keeps staring at the papers in silence. Hob doesn't want him to think this was just some act of desperation, even if it kind of was, at least timing-wise. God, this isn't what he wanted at all.

"I wanted to marry you anyway," he says, shifting nervously in his chair. "But now it's just-- I don't want you to be scared that something will go wrong with the surgery but I want you to know that someone will have your back and do what you want. Not--"

"--my terrible, terrible parents?" Dream finishes, lips finally quirking up in a half-smile.

"...Yeah." He swallows hard to calm himself. It's a lot, what he's asking, in a sense. All the legal rights it creates. But. "If you can trust me with this, then I'll protect you. I promise."

"You have already," Dream says. "As you did with the hospital admin. I think they hate you now." He seems quietly delighted about it.

Hob's always known he can be a bit annoying at times but this experience has taught him how truly annoying it is possible to be. When they got there, none of Dream's chart info was under the right name or gender, and nobody seemed particularly inclined to update it. At least not until Hob pestered them, and pestered them, and pestered them.

So yeah, they kind of hate him, but he got to be Dream's hero so it was all worth it in the end.

It's another reason he needs to get this legal shield in place now. Between Dream's slick parents and their money, and Hob who's being a continual nuisance, he thinks he knows who'll come out on top with the administration.

"...So?" he says. "Will you marry me?"

Dream starts tearing up, and Hob thinks, oh god, oh god, I've ruined it-- then Dream pulls him close and throws his arms around him. "Yes," he breathes. "I will. I-- I wanted to for so long."

That makes idiots of the both of them, then.

But Hob doesn't dwell on it for long. He hugs Dream back, then kisses him, pressing his face between his hands. Now that the stress of asking is over, the real feeling bubbles up inside him. Joy. Elation. He's marrying Dream.

"I love you," he says, and Dream smiles. "Now let's get out of here."

--

Their makeshift ceremony at the registrar's office is very emotional despite being completely spontaneous. It's just them, plus Death who Hob got to come along as their witness, and they don't yet have rings to exchange--but at the end of it, Dream is his husband.

Truthfully, Dream deserves better, he deserves a lavish romantic ceremony with flowers and fine clothes and desserts and anything he could possibly want. But... Hob is his husband now. He can give him better, later. And what a joy is that.

Dream is exhausted by the time Hob gets him back to his room, but seems happy nevertheless. He takes a nap while Hob goes to show a copy of the marriage license to hospital admin and gets them to update their records. The next time someone tries to kick him out of Dream's room it's fucking on.

And he doesn't have to wait long. He gets one peaceful day of being able to sit in Dream's room unimpeded, reading to him and just generally being able to enjoy his company without hiding behind the vending machines, before Dream's parents come back.

Dream tenses at the knock on the door, and Hob's never felt more powerful than when he stands up and says, "Don't worry, I'll tell them to leave."

"You needn't--" Dream starts, but Hob shakes his head.

"Oh, no, I'm looking forward to this."

He opens the door with a grin to find Dream's mother on the other side, and stands conveniently in the doorway, blocking her view of Dream. "Hey."

Hob can practically see her blood pressure rise at the sight of him. "You. I thought we had dealt with you."

"I'm hard to deal with," Hob says. "Sorry." He's not sorry.

She tries to push forward. "Out of my way."

Hob blocks her, and can't help a rather vicious smile. "Dream wants you to leave."

"You have no right to even be in here, never mind to tell me to leave," snaps Dream's mother.

Hob hands her a copy of the marriage certificate. He's got several. "On the contrary."

She stares at it, and is, for a moment, completely speechless.

"As Dream's husband," he says, and oh the words are delicious, "I'm telling you to leave. And I think you should do it before I call security on you." An echo of what she and Dream's father had said to him in the past.

Her jaw clenches and she shoves the paper back at him. "That they even let people like you marry in this country is an abomination. You are perverting the sanctity of marriage."

"That's my absolute favorite thing to do," Hob says, and shuts the door in her face.

"I think you enjoyed that far too much, Hob," Dream says as Hob turns back to him. Then he starts giggling. "Did you notice?"

"What?"

"Mother finally agreed that I am a man so she could be homophobic about it," Dream says, and dissolves into giggles once again. "She always said I needed to find a husband; I can't imagine why she isn't happy that I have."

"'Apologies, Mother,'" Hob says, doing his best imitation of Dream's posh accent as he sits down beside him again, "'I know you would have preferred that I marry a respectable young heir from the polo club but I'm afraid I'm shacking up with the guy running the local tavern. In lieu of a gift please just don't attend the wedding.'"

Dream laughs again, then says, "Will there be a proper wedding?"

"You want there to be?"

Hesitantly, Dream nods.

"Then there will be."

Dream smiles, and Hob takes his hand, squeezes it. "And think on what sort of ring you want," Hob says. "By the time you get out of surgery next week, I'll have it for you."

"I do love you," Dream sighs.

"Not regretting not marrying Lord Whoever from polo club?"

"There was no polo club," Dream says. "There was croquet, however--"

"Oh my God--"

"--however, you are the one I want to be married to."

Hob smiles. "Good." He kisses Dream's hand. "And you know, right? You know I wanted to marry you anyway? This was just a-- a timing thing."

"I know. But, I admit, I've found this all far more entertaining than I'd have thought." He smiles up at Hob. There's nothing better in the world than that clever smile. "You are a gallant husband."

If Hob can get Dream to keep looking at him like that, he thinks he'll be happy for the rest of his life.

"Promised to protect you, didn't I?" he says. "And so I will."

[yandere-romanticaa]

Honestly I love the idea of dabi gaslighting you into being crazy for him, because it mixed the two camps yandere dabi gets written as, the first being cruel and awful with darling as a plaything, the second being softer with darling as a fragile doll. Personally I think it's a little bit of both, because Dabi is no where near a good man, but the idea he'd completely abuse darling just the way his father did to his mom, seems to hypocritical. Instead framing it like Dabi hates the vulnerability but sorting accepting it hatches a plan where if he can slowly but surely convince you that you are the crazy one, you somehow need him, that you'll need him and that's more stable than love and when he's that insurance he can trust you enough to be softer and all you'll be is grateful. It mixes his love with the awful means he chooses to take it, since he can't be vulnerable enough to trust love but taking it is what a villain can do

I just can't see him as the 100% sadistic bastard which some fics portray him to be. While I do agree that sadism would be a big aspect of his character, there would be times when he would just. Hold you. Cling onto you.

It's weird when it happens for the first time. You've been alone for a few days and then Dabi is home. He kicks off his shoes and wordlessly makes his way towards you. He reeks of ash and blood but you find it difficult to focus on that when you feel the scorching feeling of his arms enveloping your frame.

You still as Dabi gently rests his forehead against the crook of your neck. You feel the staples of his marred flesh against your own as he uncharacteristically inhales your scent.

"...I missed you." he mumbles in a tone so quiet that if he weren't sitting so close you could have sworn that you made it up. As much as he makes fun of you, Dabi loves your fragility. He loves just how easy you are to break but he has the fire power to ensure your safety. The thought makes him giddy like a schoolboy but he's sure not to show it.

His glee would give you an inkling of power over him. He doesn't want that.

As time goes on, it starts becoming hard to judge Dabi properly as a person. You slowly unveil the truth over the ages you spend with him and, to be frank, you are lost at how you ought to see him.

It really is his father's fault for turning out the way he did. The man hardly ever spoke about his feelings but one evening a fuse broke and he told you everything. Your horrified reactions only added more fuel to his hatred as you held him in your arms, by your own volition for once. He proudly boasted how he lost the ability to cry ages ago but the pools of blood leaking out of his eyes told you a different story. The scarlet liquid stained your white t-shirt, the splotches a grave reminder of this evening.

In that moment, you were not speaking to Dabi but rather the lost little boy who could never be good enough. He made your heart swell with all sorts of colorful feelings.

By the time he fell asleep, you were still wide awake, terror running rampant in your heart with the realization that you started to fall for your captor.

And in no time, Dabi picked that fact up. Let me tell you, it made his life so much easier.

Whenever he wanted to prove a point he would just thug at your heartstrings and make you feel like a fool. He has done so much for you, is this how you are going to repay him? Depending on the severity of the fight he might threaten to burn you, but that would be a last resort.

Dabi would like to keep you in one piece, thank you very much.

He is awful and he knows it. But he's just gone too far, he is too attached to you. If you were to ever leave, he would simply go haywire. It has gotten to the point where he needs you like air but you will not have a single clue about that.

The less you know, the better.

[littlegaalaxy]

A Sweet Enchantment in the Depths

♡⃕ Relationship} Jade Leech x Fem!reader

♡⃕ Summary} "You meet Jade, he ends up falling in love with you, and ends up feeling super protective over you"

♡⃕ TW.} Yandere; obsession; possessiveness; stalker and super protection

♡⃕ Notes} English is not my first language, there may be mistakes. I’m sorry for anything. Jade is a little ooc.

You had never imagined that your life would take such a huge turn when you were transported to a magical and strange world like Twisted Wonderland. Initially, I was lost, not knowing anyone and trying to understand the dynamics of that strange school called Night Raven College. As a small and naive girl, you often ended up being pushed from one side to another by situations, but you always managed to find a way to get out unharmed.

However, that changed when you met one of the Leech twins.

Your first interaction with Jade Leech was completely unexpected. You had gotten lost in Octavinelle's water gardens, distracted by the vibrant colors and the fish swimming in the clear waters. He appeared out of nowhere, tall and imposing, with a polite smile, but one that hid something strange.

— Did you get lost? — Jade asked, his voice calm but penetrating, as if he could read all your thoughts and fears.

— Ah, y-yes… I think I took the wrong path… — you replied timidly, your big, innocent eyes trying to find an escape route.

— It's dangerous around here for someone like you, you know? — He took a step forward, bending down to get closer to you, his eyes half-closed with a peculiar shine. — Small, fragile and so… vulnerable. —

You swallowed hard, feeling your heart beat faster. There was something about him that drew you in, like a tide pulling you under. Jade always maintained that polite smile, but his eyes analyzed your every move, like a predator studying its prey.

From that date on, Jade made a point of "taking care" of you. He always appeared when you needed help most, whether it was to guide you through the corridors or to get you out of embarrassing situations. However, as time passed, you began to notice that Jade was always around, even when you didn't call him. His words were always kind, but his intentions seemed increasingly difficult to decipher.

— You are such a sweet and carefree girl… — he whispered one day, while they were alone in the library. — I wonder how someone so innocent survives in this world… —

His cold fingers slid down your arm, and you felt a shiver run down your spine.

— Don't worry, [Name]. I'll make sure nothing bad happens to you. —

Despite the calmness in his voice, there was a tone of possessiveness that made you uneasy. He always knew where you were, what you were doing, and he seemed to show up at the most unexpected moments. You even tried to move away, but it was as if Jade always found a way to be close, like a shadow.

One night, as you walked through the dark corridors of the school, you felt that has was being followed. When you turned around, Jade was there, his smile darker than usual.

— I was worried… You've been moving away from me, [Name]. It makes me…uncomfortable. — His voice was now almost a threatening whisper.

— J-Jade… I just… wanted some space… — your voice shook, and you took a step back.

In an instant, Jade was in front of you, holding your arm firmly but without hurting you.

— Space? — He tilted his head, as if he didn't understand the concept. — Oh, you're so adorable when you try to resist, but you know, don't you? No one else can take care of you like I can. — His eyes fixed on yours, as if he was hypnotizing you.

You tried to pull your arm away, but he wouldn't let go.

— I will never let you get hurt, [Name]. Because you… — he lowered his face until his lips almost touched your ear — are already mine. —

His words carried a poisonous sweetness, and you realized that no matter how much you tried to escape, Jade Leech would always be there, watching you, protecting you in his own sick way, and slowly enveloping you in his possessive depths.

And the worst of all? Part of you was beginning to wonder if you really wanted to escape…

<3

[hotdaemondtargaryen]

TOM GLYNN-CARNEY INTERVIEWED FOR DEADLINE MAGAZINE.

IS THAT YOU LYING IN BED IN EPISODE 5, GETTING THE BURNT VALYRIAN STEEL PEELED OFF OF YOUR BODY?

"It certainly is me."

I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD. SO YOU'RE NOT DEAD YET?

"I say a word … unless dead people can speak."

SO YOU ARE SURE AS YOU'RE SITTING HERE, YOU ARE NOT DEAD.

"I’m not dead yet."

LET'S BACK UP TO THE DAY WHEN YOU SHOT THAT EPIC DRAGON FIGHT.

"Well, that day was, in fact, probably about three weeks work, trying to get all these certain angles and these set pieces together."

"It takes a while to coordinate something like that."

"And it was great fun."

"It was a little different."

"The stuff I had to do previously with the big dialogue, the heavy council scenes and the moments in the pub … that felt more theatrical."

"And by theatrical, I don’t mean hammy and stuff, I mean being in theater and doing a play."

"But this [dragon fight] felt very filmic, being strapped into this crane and having this big camera on a long hydraulic arm thrown in your face."

"There were lots of green screens and gray screens and tennis balls on sticks and wind machines."

"It was great."

"It was a big learning curve for me as well, because I’ve never done anything quite as elaborate as that before in terms of CGI work."

DO YOU THINK CRISTON SAW WHAT AEMOND DID TO AEGON'S DRAGON IN THAT FIGHT? THAG AEMOND IS TO BLAME?

"Criston definitely sees Aegon on the ground and Aemond near him with his sword drawn."

"So he can make his own mind up about Aemond’s intentions, which is still unclear even to me."

"I’m not sure the story was there."

"There could be various outcomes."

WHAT HAS IT BEEN LIKE TO PLAY SOMEBODY WHO'S SO BLOODY UNLIKABLE?

"So you’re not team Aegon, then?"

"Who wants to be liked?"

"Where’s the fun in that?"

"I think it’s great playing someone like Aegon because he’s so unpredictable."

"He’s so volatile."

"He’s not just someone who people don’t like."

"He’s a tragic case."

"He’s a complete and utter tragedy of a person, and I feel deeply, deeply sorry for him."

"And I guess that’s kind of why I’ve wanted to investigate his vulnerabilities, his fragilities and his boyishness, all the things that he lacks in his life that kind of inform his decisions, that have given him a certain reputation."

"There’s a lot to unpack in him."

"He’s way more layered and complex than just an unlikable character."

IT'S BEEN AN INTERESTING JOURNEY WATCHING AEGON AND AEMOND BECAUSE THEY'RE OBVIOUSLY BAD KIDS, WHICH DOESN'T MAKE SENSE BECAUSE IT'S NOT LIKE THEIR DAD WAS AN AWFUL GUY. SO WHERE DOES THAT BADNESS COME FROM?

"I dunno."

"I mean, they’ve got Targaryen blood running through them, so there’s going to be an element of madness somewhere."

"I think if they had a different upbringing and a different experience of childhood, things may have been different."

"If they had the treatment that Rhaenyra got, for example, their lives could be different."

"She was very much the golden child."

"She came first."

"She was the one whose picture was on the fridge."

"So yeah, I think that in many ways they’re a product of their history and their upbringing."

"But then again, they’re spoiled as well."

"They’ve never had to work for anything and that can have its effects."

"That’s probably a question for a psychologist, not for me."

WHY DOES HE DISLIKE HIS BROTHER SO MUCH?

"I don’t think he does."

BUT HE WAS SUCH A SHIT TO HIM IN THAT BROTHEL SCENE.

"That’s brothers."

"Aegon was pissed off that for weeks that Aemond has been in the small council and he’d been conniving and plotting with Criston behind his back."

"That kind of clique-ness and keeping Aegon out of the situation for Aemond’s own self-gain, knowing that Aegon would take over the position of King should he get the opportunity, Aegon needed to bring him down a peg."

"I don’t think it come from a place of disliking him."

It comes from a place of being like, ‘you are my little brother, know your place.’

"It’s dismissiveness and also, I’m from Manchester."

"From where I’m from, there are so many sibling relationships that are completely flawed and fractured."

"It’s very normal for me."

"I’m lucky I have a great relationship with my sibling, but it’s very normal and not out of the ordinary at all for you to see two siblings who actively want to hurt each other."

"It doesn’t come from hatred."

"That’s just the way people behave."

[kairiscorner]

Could you write an angsty hobie x reader where they both get into an argument? Everything is up to you!

ask and you shall receive anon :> i eat angst up for breakfast, lunch, snacks, dinner, and late night snack and dessert. i hope you like this !!

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

sometimes, you can't make it all better. — hobie brown x reader (angst)

summary: you loved hobie dearly, and you loved how despite how shitty the world was, he kept trying to make it a safer place for you two. but when you see him beat himself up over almost losing you... you can't recognize the boy you once loved in those frightened, hopeless eyes of his. pairing: hobie brown x gn!reader genre: angst. word count: 2,481 author's note: ok, i feel like i haven't been doing enough with my interpretation of hobie in more daring ideas an prompts, so i've wondered what he'd be like in an angsty situation. i hope y'all like it, and i'm sorry if the british pronunciations/slang are awful 😭😭😭

to hobie, it felt like everything was possible with you; like everything began and ended with you to him, that everything wouldn't be anything if he wasn't there for you, to save you, be spider man for you. he had never wanted anything more than to just be there for you, make the world a little better than how it was before you two were together.

he may appear cool and level-headed, a bit of a jokester as well, on the surface–but deep, deep down, in the recesses of his psyche, therein lies a dark void of fear, irrepressible, palpable fear. that fear being that one day, if he slips up, lets go at a crucial moment when he can't handle everything being thrown at him–when he closes his eyes for even a fraction of a second–you'd be gone.

hobie has seen and gone through a lot of unfortunate things in his life, and every time, he gets through it somehow. some may say he's incredibly tough and fortified for handling all that he's been through, all that he's seen, but what doesn't kill you doesn't make you stronger–it makes you question just why it had to happen to you, both the bad... and the good. the good being you, the sole ray of light that shines in his life–the only reason he has to tread carefully and look after himself is you.

to say he was in love with you was an understatement, hobie was completely and utterly smitten, enamored with you. he loves you dearer than dearly, he loves you with a love that doesn't overbear, a love that isn't selfish–he loves you with a love that only he can give you, that nobody else can give quite like he can. he adores you for who you are, for what you can do, for your heart and mind–you were so perfect in every way because you were so flawed and real, and that was the beautiful reality of you that hobie fell headfirst for.

but he can't bear to face that other, pivotal reality that haunts him, that reality being that you were more fragile than him. you were a civilian–an ordinary person that lived an ordinary life; but ordinary people can only do so much to defend themselves from extraordinary threats. he can't stomach the fact that you might not be able to save yourself from a devastating threat that doesn't even want your life, but instead, his. he can't stand to think that you would really be serious about telling him that you'd really die for him.

and tonight... you held yourself to that.

you tried saving him, tried to save him–spider man, who saves others before himself–at the expense of your own life.

it happened in an instant, when he was wounded, vulnerable, and weak. he was going to throttle the villain, but now, it felt like merely throttling the villain who practically pummeled you to the ground would be way too lenient. it was like his heartbeat halted, his whole world stopped, time stopped when he watched you get body slammed by the villain; the villain was doing their job, being evil, hurting whoever they wanted to hurt, to hell if who they hurt is spider man or his partner--and hobie felt like he couldn't even do the most basic job of all that was entrusted to him: keeping you safe.

you couldn't remember a thing after you jumped at the villain, all you could feel now was a complete, total, stinging numbness. it's ironic, isn't it, that when you's supposed to feel nothing, all you can feel is a distraction disguised as nothing; that's what the numbness felt like as you lay there on the hospital bed, incapacitated and immobile. you could still speak, but very weakly, you couldn't raise your arm, nor your hand, nor a single finger on either of your hands. you were still. completely still.

next to you by the bed was a beaten, battered and bruised hobie. he took that villain out, a little more violently than he usually would have, but none of that mattered to him right now except for you and how you were doing. hobie was tormenting himself by looking at you, seeing you stare up at the bright lights above you in a daze, unsure of what happened, why you're here, where you even are... he can barely walk over to you without staggering, not because of his injuries, but out of sheer relief that you're alive.

he was sobbing, and smiling--he was smiling because against all odds, you toughed it out, you lived. "hey, love..." he murmured as he fell to his knees next to you by the bed, clutching your hand that was hooked up to an IV. you weakly glanced over to your side and peered at hobie, who was muttering and kneeling next to you. "hobie..." you whispered his name as you felt his grasp on your hand tighten. he sniffled back his sobs and wiped away the tears in his eyes. he was beyond relieved you were okay, but he felt like this couldn't go on anymore; neither of you could keep seeing each other, it was for your own good. he endangered you, and all because he failed to keep you safe, his mind was a mess right now.

hobie wasn't in the best place when he watched you get thrown into the ground, hearing a loud thud as you hit the pavement below you. you were so soft, so fragile, so easy for his enemies to squash and kill. you couldn't be with him, not anymore, not when your life would always be at stake when he's around you. he clutched your hand and cleared his throat as he shakily got on his knees, his smile now gone from his face as he avoided looking at your face directly.

"i... i have something to tell you." he said as his grip on your hand was loosening, with little strength in your body, you tried to hold on to him, not to let him go--but he let go first. he looked at you in the eyes, and you could see a shadow looming over his eyes as he attempted to conceal all the pain, all the remorse and guilt he was experiencing for as long as he needed to tell you this: "we can't be together anymore. we're done." he murmured, but in that murmur, hobie carried a stinging pain in his heart that merely worsened and ached harder than any wound he's ever received at the hands of his opponents and enemies; or even those of his own allies once.

you stared at him with widened eyes, your eyes were blank but shone with a twinkle, a twinkle that came about when you saw hobie come into your hospital room. now, that twinkle had shone and waned, it died as quickly as it came, and you found yourself in the dark--in an oblivion where light could never enter, where everything that is ever in it gets trapped, confined, bound t never escape. you were lonely, all over again. you were pushed to the side, all over again. you felt an overwhelming grief and pity for yourself, all over again.

"but, h-hobie, i..." you trailed off as you tried to get up, the pain in your recovering wounds prohibiting you from speaking. hobie looked back at you in shame, he couldn't bear to touch you, couldn't even bear to look at you. he loved you, even if you were now scarred and bruised, but he hated how you got all those horrible, horrible marks on you. they reminded him--each and every strap of gauze, every scar, ever bruise, every cut on you; it all reminded him of why you two could never be together. he had to gulp down the rising wails he wanted to let go of in that moment to keep you from worrying any more. he shook his head as he turned away from you. "no. we can't be together anymore." he said with a crack in his voice as he hurriedly headed off to the window and pulled it up, feeling the breeze against his face as he climbed up on the windowsill and pulled his mask down.

"hobie--!" you exclaimed as you tried kicking off the sheets from you to get up and follow you, but instead--in your haste--you accidentally fell off the bed, with hobie's head almost snapping as he sensed you were going to fall--but he still couldn't bear to be near you... what right did he have to be near you again, hold you again, ask you if you were okay when he caused all of this to happen to you?

'they'll be okay... they'll be better off, they'll be better off without me.' he reminded himself internally as he heard you get up on your feet, wobbling and clinging onto the bed frames to support you, feeling his heart break with every sound he heard coming from you trying your hardest to reach him. you rolled your IV with you as you meekly approached hobie. "hobie, please don't do this." you pleaded him as tears started welling up in your eyes. hobie didn't respond, he just sat there, perched up on the windowsill as you sobbed behind him, waiting for him to say something, to do something. "please... this isn't your fault." "don't be ridiculous." he said as he finally made this conversation a two-way one as he turned to face you slightly.

"i'm the reason you jumped at that wanker, wasn't i? if not for me, you wouldn't have... have been confined to that blasted bed, have that fucking thing get hooked up to you, get stitches, wrapped up in gauze, almost die..."

hobie choked at his words when he said that last word, 'die'. his greatest fears, the realities he had put off facing for so damn long were finally realized that moment when you jumped in to protect him, to let yourself be killed in his stead. hobie inhaled, sniffling all the while as he took off his mask and placed his hand over his eyes, trying to concentrate on the right thing to do, parting ways with you. your legs quaked as you walked over to him, but you wanted to be close to him, even when he was trying his hardest right now to distance himself from you.

"love, i did that because i... i love you--" "and that's exactly the problem. you love me. you love me, and because you love me, you got hurt, didn't you?"

he asked you in a sharp tone, one you had never heard him speak to you with before. he removed his hand that was covering his eyes and soon looked up at you. his eyebrows were furrowed, but his eyes carried a different emotion in them. instead of fury and aggression, a frightened hopelessness was seen in those dark brown eyes of his. that fiery passion he had, that brilliant confidence of his had been extinguished; all that was left of him now was a darkness, a darkness that had to be satiated by finally distancing you, 'protecting' you.

hobie put his mask back on and turned back towards the city outside, the city that he would disappear in, hoping to never cross paths with you again--not after this, not after seeing how dedicated you were to him... he can't bear to break you even more, even if you were more than willing to shatter yourself for him. "so that's just it, huh?" you asked aloud as he leaned forward, about to bring his hand out to shoot a web and swing off, far away from you. but he stayed. he listened. he lived in that moment with you for a little bit, let you linger in his life for a few more moments before the inevitable happens. "you're just gonna... swing off, leave me here, forget we were ever together? is this... is this it? do you honestly think you can control what i do? i did that out of love for you, it didn't matter what would happen to me anymore, i promised you that i--" "i'm doing this to save you." he interrupted you as hobie stood his ground and refused to stay any longer.

this was it. this was the fall out. this was the beginning of the end, the entirety of the end between you two.

the tear streaks on your face were drying up, until new tears rolled down your cheeks as you stared at your now ex-boyfriend's back. where spider man ended and where hobie began, you could never find out--and you feared that you never knew the real hobie to begin with, the frightened hobart brown that you had never met before had finally crossed paths with you for the first and last time.

as hobie extended his arm out and shot a web at a signal tower nearby, you spoke weakly in a quieted voice. "you can't always be a hero, hobart. you can't... you can't always protect people like me, no matter how much you want to..." hobie exhaled deeply and slowly nodded at your statement. "i'm well aware." he said in a soft voice as he readied to hop off the windowsill and swing off into who knows where.

"...sometimes, you can't make it all better."

you uttered as you turned your back to him, not wishing to watch him leave you in this cold hospital room. and no matter how painful and searing this moment was for you, you couldn't hate him. even if you got hurt for his sake, got confined to the hospital for him even when he's cutting off all ties with you for what happened after... you can't hate him.

the minute you turned around, he was gone. the wind whistled as it blew a gust of wind into your already freezing hospital room. an orange leaf was left in hobie's stead, must've been carried by the wind and left here. you picked it up as you walked over to it and gazed at the intricate details of the leaf. "it's... nearly fall." you muttered to yourself as you stared off into the distance, trying not to wonder where he could've gone, and instead, think about how different it feels to see orange and yellow leafed trees down the block instead of green.

"change is scary... but i'll get through it." you uttered to yourself as you held the delicate, orange leaf in your hands; a few teardrops fell from your eyes involuntarily, with you being unable to wipe them in your daze. "i'll... i'll get through it... right?" you asked yourself in a croak as you smiled to yourself, with undertones of grief in that layered grin of yours.

tags !! @k4tsu3 @fiannee @luvstarrstruck @toneystank-3000 @ii01vq @maxoloqy @popeheywardssecretgf @arachnoia @solecitoszn @conitagray

[bairdthereader]

Time to pay homage to the Spring Queen, Tori.

[This is a long one, folks. I have lots of feelings. Sorry, not sorry! TLDR can just look at the gifs for the gist of the story.]

Having read Solitaire, This Winter, and Nick and Charlie in addition to Heartstopper, my thoughts on Tori and how she's portrayed in the show are a bit difficult to organize and express. Since we don't get her backstory in the show (yet), we see her exclusively engaging with Charlie's story; this leaves out a lot of her depth and complexity, or at least leaves it to the viewer to piece together. BUT . . .

The specific ways she goes about protecting Charlie say so much about her.

It's established from their first on-screen interaction that Charlie feels safe with Tori, both to be himself and to confide in her that he's ended his pseudo relationship with Ben, a relationship no one else knows about at this point. Tori automatically assumes the fault was with Ben, which is not only peak awesome older sister behavior, but a cue to Charlie that she knows him well enough to trust that he was not only not the offending party, but that the breakup was a very positive move for him. She's affirming and bolstering Charlie without any platitudes or unsolicited advice, a sign of her care and respect for him, as well as her understanding of him and his needs.

In Solitaire, Tori explains that she rides the bus with Charlie when he's dealing with particularly bad mental health struggles, which puts the scene toward the end of S1E7 in a slightly different perspective. She knows that something is deeply wrong, but also that Charlie isn't ready to talk about it. She keeps an earbud out just in case, but doesn't pressure him in any way, another sign of respect and silent support.

And of course the moment when Charlie is desperately vulnerable, scared, admitting his darkest thoughts to her, when she realizes for the first time (in the show timeline) just how deep the pain goes, she takes it seriously. She knows what it could mean. Though we as viewers haven't seen it yet, Tori knows her own version of this particular darkness and recognizes it in Charlie. She grounds him with firm, safe, physical touch and a truth that only she can give--which makes it the truest kind of truth, a bedrock truth for Charlie to stand on--that he is valuable to her and vital to her life.

After Charlie tells his parents about his relationship with Nick (with fairly negative results, but that's a whole other post), Tori's concern for Charlie is immediate. Not only does she remember how terrible the bullying Charlie experienced was, but she also knows how fragile his newfound happiness really is. Charlie misinterprets her question--whether intentionally or not I think might be up for debate--and assumes that her concern is mainly for Nick, asserting that he can protect Nick. Tori knows that Charlie will need that protection as well, maybe more, but also respects his choice to view the situation in this way. [Side note: respect is like Tori's secret love language; she doesn't give it very willingly.]

"Look after him or you die" seems funny, but Tori is dead serious. Her later accusation that Nick doesn't keep his promises feels harsh at first, and he doesn't really deserve it, but we have to see it for what it is. Tori is trusting Nick with a responsibility that she usually puts on herself, and she doesn't take it lightly; very few people can care for Charlie the way Tori does, and to her, failure to do so is indefensible. Nick's failing her test in this moment, though she's a complete enough person to recognize that it's a momentary lapse and trusts Nick with Charlie later in the story.

And of course there's the infamous Nelson dinner party, where Tori does in reality what we ALL want to do in spirit and knocks David down several pegs. She sees in him exactly the kind of person who bullied Charlie and made his life miserable, and she's not about to let it happen right in front of her. No real commentary here, just a deep appreciation for Tori's sisterly rage and complete disgust with David.

And then there's this:

Oh, season 3 Tori is going to be something to behold. I absolutely cannot wait. All hail the queen.

[papiliotao]

・❥・ A PORCELAIN HEART

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ gn!reader

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ character: scaramouche

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ wc: about 1000

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ content: reverse comfort, scaramouche is kind of insecure, turns very fluffy toward the end, kisses, established relationship

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ summary: in which your kisses act as a remedy to all his fears and doubts when he begins to question his worth.

broken.

he was broken — a discarded puppet, a failed experiment, and a blemish upon the name of his creator.

he wasn’t worthy of kindness. he wasn’t worthy of care. he wasn’t worthy of love.

those were his thoughts as he gazed up at you from your lap, losing himself in the refuge of your eyes. the wind brushed through his hair with a mercy he didn’t deserve, and the sun caressed his face like a loving mother tending to her child. blades of grass tickled his pale skin as they danced under the touch of gentle zephyrs.

iridescent glints of affection glittered in your irises — shimmers reminiscent of city lights on nostalgic nights. he knew you loved him, but he couldn’t help but wonder…

“why do you love me?”

the words left the tip of his tongue before he could stop himself. he usually didn’t like uncovering such vulnerable sides of himself. it felt like revealing a mirror of self-perception that was on the verge of breaking — shattering into thousands of crystalline shards. but this time around, he couldn’t help himself. he needed to know.

“why do you ask?” you answered. he felt his blood run cold. if he had a heart, surely it would have sunk upon hearing your words. 

were you avoiding his question? he wouldn’t have been surprised if you were. after all, there was nothing lovable about him.

he was far too insensitive, spouting harsh words as if it was second nature, insulting others with his sharp tongue as if their hearts were bulletproof. yet at the same time, he was far too sensitive himself — a fragile doll that could completely break under a careless touch. two polarized facets of the same person mingled together to create a magnum opus of disasters.

and you — you were flawless in his eyes. you were the epitome of perfection. you were the brightest star in a sea of lights, illuminating the world with your enticing words and enchanting smile. you were everything that he was not.

so no matter how hard he tried to respond to your question, he just couldn’t. words were betraying him, getting caught in his throat before they could leave his lips. although a world where he could bring himself to divulge his deepest fears was a distant daydream, he felt trapped within an hourglass of lies, suffocating as grains of sand kept piling and piling — small moments where he had instinctively told you he was fine when he was, in fact, the opposite.

the sound of you sighing permeated his senses. were you disappointed in him? he wouldn’t have been surprised if you were. after all, the very nature of his existence was failure and inadequacy. 

but to his shock, you reached down to run your fingers through hair weaved from the quintessence of the night sky. his breath hitched as your touch caused a few knotted strands to unravel. “it seems like you’re not in the mood to respond,” you said in a voice reminiscent of multicoloured petals drifting in a spring breeze, “so i’ll answer your question first.”

he waited with bated breath. the silence that ensued as you were thinking about what to say seemed far too pronounced for his liking. he couldn’t wait for your response. a singular second felt like a millenium as he drowned in an ocean of suspense, the murky blue waters swallowing him whole as anticipation caused intrusive thoughts to rush through his head.

“i love you for you,” you finally said, breaking through the silence hanging in the stagnant air. “i love you because you’re witty, unintentionally funny at times, and you care for me in your own unconventional way. to be honest, i could go on and on, and i can’t exactly explain why i feel so drawn to you, but just know that i love you in your entirety.”

his muscles tensed. did you really mean it? if it were anyone else, he would have assumed that they were lying to get on his good side, but to him, you were different. you would never give him up, you would never let him down, and you would never run around and desert him. 

finally, with a lighter conscience, he sat up to face you. he looked into your eyes and saw the sincerest of emotions gleaming in their depths. your feelings were genuine, yet he couldn’t stop hesitation from bubbling within the pit of his stomach.

and perhaps you noticed how perturbed his soul was because as he averted his gaze, you intertwined your fingers with his, tracing comforting circles on the back of his hand. as always, you understood him better than he understood himself.

“please look at me,” you begged. he swallowed the lump in his throat and glanced up. “let me show you how much i love you.”

before he knew it, he felt the sensation of warm lips pressing against his skin. your actions spoke louder than words ever could.

one: a gentle kiss pressed to the back of kunikuzushi’s hand — fleeting, soft, and tender, encapsulating all the arduous feelings in the world.

i’ll accept you, no matter what you’ve done in the past. that hateful side of yourself that once wished to see the world burn is no longer a part of you. you’ve changed, and you should be proud of yourself.

two: a warm kiss against scaramouche’s cheeks which were adorned with skin fashioned from the finest porcelain. as you pressed on, a breathtaking rosy shade reminiscent of sunset hues began to dust his pale features.

i cherish you as you are now. you don’t have to be useful to me, and you don’t have to give me anything in return. i don’t care for any exchanges because all i want is you. you are enough. you are worthy. so please, allow all your self-doubt to drift away on the wind.

three: a passionate kiss to the wanderer’s lips. you placed your hands on his cheeks, bringing him closer as you shared a touch laced with the most ethereal feelings of bliss, amplifying the intimacy of the moment tenfold.

i will love you into the future. i know you’re scared that i’ll leave, but i promise i’ll never abandon you because you mean the world to me. a life without you isn’t a life worth living. my affection for you are will always be unconditional.

and in that moment, he realized that despite all his shortcomings, he had finally found the eternity he had sought from the moment he was born. an enchanting forevermore basking in the magnificence of your love.

i hope you enjoyed reading this! did you spot the reference to that one song? i had a bit too much fun writing this. anyway, if you liked this fic, please reblog/comment if you feel up to it! have a nice day 💞

[deancasbigbang]

Title: work song

Author: dothraki_shieldmaiden

Artist: tallula03

Rating: Explicit

Pairings: Dean Winchester/Castiel

Length: 70000

Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence

Tags: Murder Husbands, Revenge, Canon-Typical Violence, Break Up and Make Up, Mutual Pining, Getting Back Together, Criminal!Castiel, Angst with a Happy Ending

Posting Date: October 31, 2024

Summary: Two years ago, Dean Winchester's life came crashing to a halt when his boyfriend, Castiel Novak, died in a tragic accident. After painstakingly putting his life back together, Dean goes on a vacation with his best friend, where he sees a face he never thought he would see again. Now reunited, Castiel tells Dean the truth about his past and the reason for his disappearance. However, all is not well--Dean cannot move past Cas' betrayal and lies, and the ghosts from Cas' past refuse to remain there. With danger looming, Dean and Cas start on a mission of revenge and justice, but they're badly outnumbered. With the hurt of the past colliding with the fragile promise of the future, Dean and Castiel need to learn how to create a new path--or else risk being lost forever.

Excerpt: Dean settles on the edge of the couch, ready to jump away at a moment’s notice. The surrealness of the situation — him, talking to Castiel two years after he thought Cas died, furious instead of joyful, wanting nothing more than to flee from Cas as fast as he can — would flatten him if he thought about it for longer than two seconds.  So he just doesn’t think about it. He sits and he waits.  Cas takes a long time to get to the point, twisting his fingers around each other, so abruptly that Dean winces at the sharp pop of his knuckles. Cas stares at a stain on the carpet like the secrets to the universe are written in its oblong edges.  By the time Cas finally speaks, Dean is ready to jump out of his skin with anticipation. He’s ready for Cas to yell at him, to call him pathetic. He just wants Cas to say something, but he’s completely unprepared for what Cas does eventually say.  “You are…” Cas’ throat bobs as he says, with an inflection that sounds like something soft and small dying, “were… one of the most important things in my life. The most important thing in my life.”  Cas sounds so sincere. Dean could almost believe him.  “I never would have left if I had the choice. Those two years I spent with you… They were the happiest of my life.”  Cas takes a deep breath, fortifying himself. Dean does the same, rebuilding his wall that had started to crack at the first sign of Cas’ vulnerability. He’s imagining everything from Cas actually admitting that he’s just shit at breaking up with someone and couldn’t figure out a different way to end the relationship, to Cas saying that he had to flee due to problems with the IRS. “When I said you were in danger… Dean, I wasn’t lying. When I first met you, I had been on the run for over a year. I knew that staying with you was only tempting fate — bringing danger right to your doorstep — but I couldn’t help myself. You were so…” Castiel swallows. His hands are clasped so tightly together that his knuckles are bleeding white. “And for two years, I thought it might be all right. I thought… I thought maybe I was allowed to have you. But then I saw someone from my past, and I knew that if they had managed to find me, they could threaten you. They could hurt you.”  “Hurt me? Cas, I don’t—”  He doesn’t know what to expect, but he still couldn’t have prepared himself for what Cas says next.  “Dean, I was a member of the Archangel crime organization until it was taken over by Lucifer Morningstar. I was on the run because he put a bounty on my head, and I know you might not believe this, but the reason I left was to protect you.”  Fucking what?

DCBB 2024 Posting Schedule

[diejager]

Meeting in the same line of work as an operator. But the ‘reader’ in this scenario isn’t ‘small’. Being only just a couple inches shorter then Simon, and built quite large on the ‘bulk’ side. Spoopy Operator Girlfriend that can pick you up who doesn’t like that..? Boyfriend operator who’s used to interacting with women who prefer the feminine dainty life, now they gotta deal with reader being almost the complete opposite of what he’s used too!

(plus side of having operator girlfriend, no need to worry about being gentle, especially when their covered in scars like Simon)

Guess they can count their calories together as they get ready to work out…how many calories do you think Simon eats daily…?

I know shit about calories and being/feeling tall, but I can sure can try and live my dream in this >:]

Unusual Size Cw: fluff, implied smut, hookups, Ghost being confused, tell me if I missed any.

Ghost always thought himself as the provider in a relationship, the person who cared and protected —the shield. He always thought he preferred pretty and dainty women, like those he dated in the past or the rare and occasional hookups he brought to a motel room from the bar. They were good fucks, pretty things mewling and moaning beneath him, their pleasures spurred on by his broad stature and mask, but none were permanent, always a staple of his lonely nights. Ghost - Simon - knew who he was and what he liked —or so he fucking thought. 

You came crashing through everything he thought of himself, a straight man into small and fragile women with painted nails and rouge lips. You were unlike anything he’d every seen, bulky and tall, limbs sculpted from hardened marble and mind made of rough wires. You rivaled him in size and broadness, taller than Gaz, broader than Soap and gruffer than Price. You were a carbon copy of him in your whole attire and equipment, decked in black and blues, lifting more than anyone he’d seen and broke through men like they were made of glass, shattering them in the same velocity of a bowling ball towards pins. 

And when you shrugged off your mask, he was sure that he knew at least one thing about himself, that he was a straight and confused man, bordering on bisexual with how strongly he reacted to you appearing as a male with your deeper voice and gruffness. You were practically a man.

You didn’t need protection, you didn’t need to be provided for or to be cared for. You were as independent and strong as he was, someone he could equally depend on for help and comfort, to reach for someone he knew could take him as a whole: all his fear, all his scars, all his trauma and all his regrets. Simon knew you can take all of him, following him through thick and thin to pull him back from the depths of his mind, scattering his nightmares and bringing him into your strong arms. 

Everything came so naturally with you, he trusted you with his life, having you watch his back when he cleared a room with you, and you trusted him just as much when you smiled at him before he left for overwatch. You worked together so effortlessly, he moved when you moved, and you stopped when he stopped, step for step and act for act. It came to the point where he was never seen without you and you were always shadowed by him, stuck by the hip and fingers touching, two giants in bulk and gear stomping around base with your masks pulled up and scaring people off. It was a sight to behold. 

And in moments of vulnerability, where he once thought he had to be gentle and careful, he could fully throw himself at you without the fear of hurting you, using his whole body to press you down and his strength to hold you still, fingers bruising your scarred skin and growling out your name. He didn’t have to hold back and he didn’t have to do all the work, letting you take care of him, featherlight touches and tender kisses, praising him and encouraging him to let go. He didn’t know he liked to be treated softly, to be loved and gently handled, it was such a difference of his battle-hardened facade he put up. 

He learned that he liked being reminded of his humanity, that he was flawed and that it was all right to be a wounded being. He learned that he liked you more than he did with small and dainty women, never having to hold back and being able to let go of his control. And he learned that it was fine to not conform to the imagine people had of him, to stand out for what he liked and favoured; to trust and to love; to be cared for and to be protected; and to share his pain.

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[a-pigeons-soliloquy]

saw some gifs and now i'm thinking about the way hannibal listens to music with his whole body

whether it's swinging his head to follow a crescendo or simply swaying as he plays the harpsichord, music is almost a religious experience for him, and he doesn't just hear the music - he feels it with his very being

but we only see him allow himself to experience it in this way when he's completely alone

because he knows that reacting in such a way isn't considered 'normal' by general society, and especially not by the high society he tends to surround himself with, who all seem to believe that music should be enjoyed politely, solemnly, emptily.

so he forces himself to stay still in public events, lets the music wash over him instead of through him. it's still wonderful, and he can often move a finger surreptitiously with the rise and fall of the music regardless of his surroundings, but it's nothing compared to when he can allow himself to feel the music within him.

he has his own box at his favourite theatre - a perk of being one of their most generous patrons - and here he can feel more free to move with the music. still, however, the box does not guarantee complete privacy, and so he doesn't always feel he can utilise it the way he'd like.

this is all to say that the only place that hannibal can truly listen to music is in his own home, and so now imagine a scene after the fall:

will walks past hannibal's office, and as he glances through the crack in the door his eyes catch sight of hannibal lost in the music flowing out of the room, body swaying, feet tapping, head nodding and hands moving as if to conduct an invisible orchestra. there is a classical piece playing on the antique gramophone they'd picked up one morning at a local market; one will has vaguely heard before but can't name. he doesn't think much on it, however, as the small smile on hannibal's face is the most genuinely joyful expression that will has ever seen on his face. never before has he witnessed hannibal more at ease and content than at this moment, and the beauty of it stops him in his tracks.

he feels so honoured to have seen hannibal in this state, though he's also struck by the creeping sense that he's seen something that wasn't for his eyes. something that even now, after everything they've been through together, hannibal hasn't yet felt comfortable sharing with will.

and so he slowly backs away, traitorous eyes still trained on hannibal as his head sweeps upwards with the climax of the music

and maybe hannibal doesn't see him. maybe he's so absorbed in the music that he doesn't notice will as he moves past the doorway, and will keeps the memory locked away in the depths of his mind palace, safe in a small room with a gramophone where he can return when he wants to feel at peace.

but maybe hannibal does. maybe not even the music can cover the creak of the floorboards as will backs away, and all of a sudden hannibal's motions cease, eyes opening and staring at will, face unusually open and vulnerable before a neutral mask quickly snaps over it. for a long moment there is a tense and fragile silence, filled with unspoken questions, until will finally asks what the piece of music is called.

after a moment of hesitation hannibal tells him, and soon they are sat together, hannibal explaining the story of the piece and how the composition tells it, his hands dancing through the air to demonstrate his points, while will nods and listens and, after a little while, understands.

seemingly without his noticing, hannibal starts to sway again, and his eyes flutter closed, and will stares at him, completely and utterly in love, before his own eyes slip closed and he sways to the music with hannibal, the two of them swept away in a sea of music together.

[yoomiwrites]

Sugar Rush²²

Summary: Reader has been working directly under the Admirals, Kuzan, Kizaru and Akainu for years. Little by little, the dynamic changes and friendship (and more) develops.

Note: Oh well. The end.

The next few days had been filled with an almost eerie quiet. After everything, I had expected something—anything—from Kizaru. But nothing came. Until one evening, when I was at home, trying to distract myself from the whirlwind of emotions, there was a knock at the door.

I hesitated for a moment, my heart pounding, but eventually, I opened the door. And there he stood—Kizaru. He looked different, not in his usual carefree, lazy way, but serious. There was something in his eyes that I couldn’t quite place.

"May I come in?" he asked softly, almost too gently for a man of his usual demeanor.

I stepped aside, allowing him to enter, still unsure of where this was going. He made his way inside, glancing around briefly before turning to face me.

"First," he said, breaking the silence, "You should call me Borsalino."

I raised an eyebrow, caught off guard by the sudden request. “Why?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he sighed and leaned against the nearest wall, arms crossed loosely. “I want to talk to you… properly.”

I swallowed, feeling my defenses rise. “About what? About how you’ve been avoiding me for weeks? About how you disappeared after… after that night?”

His expression shifted slightly, his usual lazy demeanor faltering. “Yeah, about that. Look, I’m not someone who’s built for relationships. Not for marriage, not for the long-term stuff people usually expect.”

I blinked, processing his words as he continued. “But I do… feel affection for you. That night, it wasn’t just some passing moment. I enjoyed it fully, being with you.”

The admission sent a strange mix of emotions rushing through me. My anger, my confusion, the hurt—it all flared up at once, but I kept quiet, letting him speak.

"But my position… my job... doesn’t allow for mistakes," he went on, his voice lowering. "If it ever came down to it, if I was ordered… I’d have to destroy the very thing I care about. Even if it’s you."

His words cut deep, but instead of fear, all I felt was fury. "You think you get to choose for me?" I snapped, stepping closer, anger boiling over. "You don’t get to make that decision, Borsalino. I can choose what I want. I’m not some fragile doll that needs protecting."

He looked genuinely taken aback, his eyes widening slightly as my words hit him. “That’s not what I—"

"Yes, it is," I interrupted, my voice trembling with the anger I could no longer suppress. "I get it. Your job is dangerous, and you live in a world where choices are sometimes made for you. But I’m not afraid to take risks. You don’t get to decide for me. I’m willing to take the risk, but you need to stop running away from it.”

He stared at me, completely thrown off. For the first time since I’d known him, Kizaru looked… confused. Vulnerable, even.

"I don’t want to lose you," he muttered, almost more to himself than to me. Then, after a long pause, he said, "If we try this, if we really try, I won’t let you leave my side. You’d have to leave this island with me. Be with me wherever I go, even on the ocean, even in the battles… everywhere."

My heart was pounding in my chest, and I could barely hear my own thoughts over the rush of blood in my ears. The thought of leaving the island, of following him across the ocean I had grown to dislike, was daunting. But more than anything, the thought of being with him, despite the risks, felt… right.

I took a step forward, looking him directly in the eyes. "As long as you act like a man now, Borsalino, I’ll gladly follow you to the ends of the world."

For a moment, he simply stared at me, stunned into silence. Then, without any more words, he closed the distance between us, his lips crashing onto mine with the kind of intensity that made everything else in the world fade away. It wasn’t the gentle, hesitant kiss of before. It was rough, impatient, like he had been holding back for too long. My mind spun, tasting the familiar warmth of his lips. I melted into him, feeling everything—the anger, the confusion, the longing—all blur into one.

When we finally pulled away, he smirked, his golden eyes twinkling with amusement as he whispered, "You really are sweet as sugar."

I couldn’t help but laugh, feeling a mixture of relief and joy settle deep within me. Maybe this was reckless, maybe it was dangerous—but it felt like the beginning of something that was worth every risk.

[shoukiko]

Not ready

A/N: Oh em gee my first full writing thingy :33 I hope u like it <3

CW: Angst, mention of death/injuries, Purely SFW

"I'm not ready yet..” you groaned from underneath the rubble, a rebar stake impaled into your back, emerged on the other side of your stomach. “I can’t… not yet” 

A wave of fear completely engulfs you as you grip onto Ghost’s wrist. He’s crouched next to you, making sure you know he’s near. In the years you've worked together, not once has he seen you cry. You were always the type to not let your feelings get ahead of you, to hold back everything until you couldn’t anymore. Even when you were beaten to all hell, you managed to dust yourself off and keep going no matter the situation. This wasn’t one of those times.

“I’m scared.. I’m scared, Ghost.” You speak timidly, you never wanted him to see you in this way, but at this moment all you can think about is keeping him near.

“I know, I know you are. You’ll-” He pauses, unable to reassure you that everything will be alright this time.

“I- I… I wanted to get married, maybe have a kid or two… “ The tone of vulnerability in your voice, the faltering, and the fear surprise him. Never once have you opened up this much, He places a hand on your arm, offering a soft caress.

“What else?” He asks, you think he’s just trying to keep you conscious long enough for help to come, but there’s something in his voice that makes him genuinely curious.

Your breathing is heavy, vision blurry, thoughts racing, but his questioning eases the burden. He pulls a rag from his pack, he applies pressure to the site of your impalement, where you've been pierced, in an effort to stem the bleeding.

“A house… I wanted to live in a house… somewhere in the country…” You speak in a hush.

“That sounds nice, with who? Family? On your own?” He asks, a hint of worry in his voice.

You begin to slip in and out of consciousness, desperately, he softly taps your face. “Hey.. Hey C’mon, stay with me. Who would you live with in your house? Hm?” 

“....Simon..” You whisper, you never call him by his first name. Never. He takes a breath before responding. “Yea..? What is it?” A subtle blend of fear and curiosity colors his voice.

“I love you…” The words are fragile as they leave your lips, yet resolute.

Ghost’s heart shreds as he hears such an emotional confession, blood rushing to his ears and face. Uncertain whether it's embarrassment or terror. He strokes your head gently, with utmost care. 

“I… I love you too, Doll.” 

A weak smile graces your face as you surrender to your fate.Leaving behind a profound silence and lingering warmth.

He refrains from shedding tears, abstains from emitting a scream; instead, he becomes a silent symphony of pain, mourning the loss of yet another person deeply embedded in his heart.

[hearts4youz]

The Captain's Daughter: Chapter 21

A/N: Motivation to write and an actual idea of where the story is going>>>>>>>>>>>

As always, thank you soo much for reading. Your comments are so kind and they really keep me going

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Reader pov

No breaks for the 141. Of course, the day after the wedding, when all of you were hungover and tired, you would be sent on a mission. Not a particularly risky one thankfully, but important nonetheless. You couldn't let your pounding headache distract you from the briefing where you sat in this moment. You massaged your temples and glanced over at Ghost, who was paying close attention to Price's lecture. This morning, the two of you had only shared a knowing glance and a smile before being interrupted by your teammates.

"Any questions?" Price asked. No one raised their hand.

"Alright, lets roll," You cringed at his fatherly choice of words while leaving the room.

Ghost pov:

I watched Y/N leave the room, my heart swelled with warmth remembering that she was mine now.

mine

I let the word slip off my tongue, which earned me a weird glance from Soap, but I shook him off and went to catch up with Y/N. She looked back when she heard my footsteps and gave me a soft smile, causing my stomach to erupt in butterflies.

"Hey," I croaked.

"Morning!" she said cheerfully.

"You uh... ready for this mission?" I asked, my tone of voice awkward.

"Yeah, you?" she responded.

We continued the awkward small talk until we met up with the others, I feared I was messing things up because I didn't know what to say. The initial giddiness was wearing off and this relationship was beginning to scare me. I swallowed my fear and focused on the objective ahead, eliminating two targets.

After all the equipment checks were complete, the 141 boarded a helicopter. My hand brushed Y/N's during liftoff and I quickly retracted it, she gave me a quizzical glance that looked almost hurt. I mumbled an apology and looked away.

Fuck! Why do you have to be so awkward!!!! I said to myself.

When we landed and broke off into teams, I was relieved to be grouped with Y/N. We landed on top of a skyscraper in a big city. I tried my best to get myself locked in but my thoughts and eyes drifted to Y/N, who stood a few feet away, loading her gun. I looked at her fragile form, I know she's more than capable of holding her own, but what if she gets hurt. I shake my head violently as the thought of her reeling in pain is too much to bear.

I think back to the last time I was left in charge of someone more vulnerable than me and replay the image of my recruits throat being slit over again. I shake my head once more and begin to load my own gun before entering the building with Gaz and Y/N.

I stick to Y/N's side as we stay low. the top floors of the building are mostly offices, the workers are glued to their computers in a robotic looking way. Sneaking past was a walk in the park. Going in for the kill quietly would be the issue.

The 73rd floor is where intel said the target would be, fear ripped through me as we inched closer.

Please, nothing go wrong I said over and over again in my head.

We reach the floor and things are eerily quiet. We find ourselves in a long corridor with multiple doors, none of which are marked. I take out a device as Gaz and Y/N click silencers onto their guns. I point the device towards one of the doors, sure enough, a heat signature in the shape of a man appears on screen.

"We can't just walk in through the door," Gaz says, I nod.

Y/N looks around for a moment before pointing up at the ceiling, I turn my head upwards and notice a vent. I nod at her to acknowledge her idea. I hoist Gaz up, he takes the cover off the vent and climbs in. Then, I get Y/N up there. I try not to think about the skin to skin contact we are having and focus on the mission but my mind gets the better of me. Finally, Gaz gives me a hand and I climb up myself.

We crawl a few feet before reaching an opening. We peer into the room and see our target typing away on a computer, unaware of our eyes on him. Y/N pushes the end of her gun into one of the slits in the cover and gets ready to fire. My heart begins to race as he stops typing for a stretch break. His arms extend in the air as he tilts his head back. I panic and move to pull Y/N out of sight, but I underestimate how little room the vent gives us, as well as the strength of the ceiling tiles.

Suddenly, We come crashing down onto the office floor of the target, who yells and grabs a gun from his desk drawer. Before he can point it at us though, Gaz fires from his knees and hits the target directly in the chest. I grab Y/N and the three of us break a window and jump out onto a lower rooftop where Gaz radios for exfil as I cradle Y/N in my arms and apologize to both of them profusely.

"I fucked everything up, I'm sorry, I'm sorry,"

Y/N gets to her feet and brushes dust and debris from her body. "Hey, Your fine, everyone makes mistakes."

"Yeah man, we all fuck up sometimes," Gaz agrees.

"But you both could've gotten killed, I just... I," I stop talking as Y/N gives me that caring, nurturing look. My cheeks heat up and I stand back up.

*timeskip*

Later that night, there's a knock at my door. I open the door and I am relieved to see Y/N standing there in casual clothes. After the mission, I went straight to the showers, opting to eat dinner alone in my room. I was grateful that Y/N had come to find me, I felt more ready to face her now that my nerves had died down.

She walks straight into me and wraps her arms around me, burying her face in my chest. I pat her back softly, feeling at ease in her embrace.

"You were worried about me," she murmured into my chest.

"Yeah..." I confessed.

She lifted her head up and looked into my eyes. "Don't be," she said softly. "You're going to put yourself in danger. besides, I can hold my own."

I knew she was right, but It wouldn't stop me from worrying about her, so instead I changed the subject.

"Am I too awkward?" I needed to know the answer, the real answer, not just her reassurence.

"Si... You're not too much or too little of anything, okay? Don't worry about me, or being good enough for me, or anything like that. If your doing something that hurts me, or makes me feel sad or uncomfortable, I promise I'll tell you."

I sighed and smiled, looking down at my girlfriend, "You just know exactly how to make me feel better don't you."

She smiles, still not letting go of me.

My voice goes softer, a little more serious, more vulnerable. "Will you stay with me tonight?"

Y/N pauses for a beat, I get scared and feel like I ruined something before she speaks.

"Of course I will Simon."

I slept easily that night with my girl in my arms. Her face buried into my neck as my muscular arms practically swallowed her figure.

"Mine," I whispered to her when I was sure she fell asleep.

"Yours," she replied back breathily.