#it makes sense in my head if not to anyone else

[tiramissyoucake]

I'm finally baaack. I'm rlly rusty so please be patient wit me. Here's a Mohawk Mark coming back to bimbo-coded reader

Mark learned a lesson today; you live your life believing you're the strongest until you have to face your own demons, literally in this case. Fighting a copy of himself who had the same power as him left him exhausted, blood that seeped down his nose and dried now tangy on his lips, he lost his hearing for a full 2 minutes and worst of all? He got nothing he was promised.

He found a way back to his own dimension, in some lawn of an unsuspecting family; he debated on going in and killing them to make himself feel better but... God, he was tired.

For the first time in Mark's life since he got his powers; he was exhausted. All that could make him feel better was a coma. Wobbling to his feet, he groaned to himself quietly as he wiped away at his face, dried blood flaking off and clinging to his gloves. He could rest easy now that he's in his own dimension... maybe you'd be awake.

It was past midnight as he hovered over the neighbourhood, an irritated expression stuck on his face as he followed a familiar route to your home, did time pass? How long was he gone? He knew dimension magic made no sense, a small part of him worried you'd turn him away for disappearing.

A soft light eminated from your window. You were probably having trouble sleeping. Mark took a deep breath, lifting his bruised knuckles to the window and knocking in a rhythm that you'd recognize (as if anyone else would knock on your window to sneak in).

Hope seemed to trickle away with every moment that passed. Were you ignoring him? Did you hate him? Were you scared of him? He shut his eyes tightly, why was he worrying now? You loved him, he knows you do.

"Mark?"

Every ounce of his tough guy attitude practically shrunk away as your voice reached his ears. You knew that dumb mohawk anywhere. You looked at him with an emotion he couldn't name, confusion? Betrayal? Shock? A familiar scent that he mentally tied to you wafted to him, dragging him to your windowsill.

"Yeah— it's me." He started, finally finding the casual tone to respond. "... can I come in? I know I've been gone for a while— I just..."

Your hands came to rest over his as he struggled to keep his image while being vulnerable to you, sighing. "... this is gonna sound corny as shit, but I really needed to see you."

You laughed, bordering on a sigh as you guided him inside, your room was relatively the same except for a few shuffled plushies, books and items of the sort. His feet reconnected with the ground as he settled in your room, holding one of your hands.

"My god..." You mumbled, his features now clearer in the dim glow of your room's lamps and laptop light, your hand cupped his cheek. "Baby, what happened? You look horrible..!"

He snorted, his cheek leaning into your warm nailed hand. "You would not believe the shit I've been through the past 3 days."

"3 days..?" you mumbled, tilting your head curiously. "You've only been gone for a day."

So the calculations he was given were off... a part of him was glad he came back so soon, but a sadistic part of him wanted to disappear for longer to make you miss him.

"... did you miss me?" He smugly asked, the smile widening as he heard your familiar laugh. "Oh, absolutely, I missed you sooo much!"

Mark's arms wrapped around you and tugged you closely, his nose almost nudging against yours. "Yeah? Missed me bad, didn't you, baby?" He asked over your flustered giggling, your hands cupping his cheeks. "C'mon, tell me how much you missed me."

"Shut uuup! You're so gross!" You laughed, no real malice behind your words as he guided you to your bed and flopping down on your fluffy, Inviting sheets, plushies jumping slightly before sitting back in place or toppling aside. "Mark! Nooo! You stink!"

"You love it." He grunted as he nuzzled his face into your neck, biting and kissing as you tried to wrestle him aside. "Noooo!! Stop smearing your grime on me!"

He laughed as you tried to push him away, licking his lips— suddenly, the dried blood was the least of his worries now. "I'm marking my territory! Stop moving!"

The giggling and laughing echoed in your room, your sleeping trouble gone, his exhaustion seeping away, his heart felt disgustingly full.

Mark winced as he sat up with a groan, his hand coming up to his neck. "Oh.. a-are you okay..?" You asked in an unsure tone, sitting up. "Jeez, Marky... who messed you up?"

He grunted, hissing as he sat on the edge of the bed. "You don't wanna know... can you patch me up?" He rolled his shoulder as you got up. "Hmm, 'Kay.. take it easy, alright?"

Mark hummed in response as you leaned down to kiss him briefly, he licked his lips; a habit he developed after everytime he kissed you. "... you going to bed with gloss on?"

"It's from a lip mask, dummy!"

[nicoposting]

While waiting for Da capo I thought about Racoon Lester and Owl Doe.

I was thinking about what animals the malevolent characters would be and I actually researched what each animal represents but I also considered:

Arthur would crawl out of the trash, also he needs paws he can play piano with, so yeah, a racoon.

John is kinda always in the dark, he has wings now as in he is free and entirely his own (since the kiy is probably an octopus) AND he didn't know what an owl was, just like he didn't know who he was.

[captainjackscoat]

okay just went to see Thunderbolts* so, opinions under the cut :)

I WOULD DIE FOR BOB I WOULD DIE FOR BOB I WOULD DIE FOR BOB I WOULD DIE FOR BOB I WOULD DIE FOR BOB I WOULD DIE FOR BOB I WOULD DIE FOR BOB I WOULD DIE FOR BOB I WOULD DIE FOR BOB I WOULD DIE FOR BOB I WOULD DIE FOR BOB I WOULD DIE FOR BOB I WOULD DIE FOR BOB I WOULD DIE FOR BOB

MY BOYYYYYY I WANT TO HUG HIM AND GIVE HIM AT LEAST ONE OF MY STUFFED TOYS. AND THEN TELL HIM HE IS SO LOVED. MY POOR BOB.

Solid 9/10.

Yelena was beautifully done, Ava was brilliant, Bob was OH MY GOD BEAUTIFULLY DONE, Walker was...

okay I am Walker's no.1 hater (fight me for it) and even I can say Wyatt did a brilliant job of that. Walker was well written and well played and I cannot fault that. However I still hate him. You can't blame me - he just has a punchable face.

EDIT HERE BC A COMMENT HAS INFORMED ME ALEXEI FUCKING SUCKS: My entire knowledge of Alexei before watching Thunderbolts* was that he was Yelena and Natasha's dad. Basically my entire memory of watching Black Widow is my dad identifying Smells Like Teen Spirit at the start. I was not aware Alexei was complicit in child trafficking, I now recognise he fucking sucks, and for moral reasons I hate him more than Walker. I'm still Walker's no.1 hater though like I've maintained this title, given to me by my father, for four years. I'm not dropping it now. So while I now hate Alexei, it's not going to change the fact that I hate Walker. I just hate Alexei more.

Taskmaster... I am a little disappointed about. i was really looking forward to more of her, and her death was just... why? I kept expecting her to show up and she didn't. It felt a bit flat. I didn't exactly miss her, as I have no emotional attachment to her like I do for Yelena, Bucky and Ava, but I felt she was not done justice.

Pausing writing this to inform anyone reading this that I am writing this with Yelena's voice in my head saying it. She's speaking my internal monologue now. It's quite funny.

Anyway.

I went into the film fully aware that the villain was Bob's insecurities, but I was. I was not ready enough. Oh my god. That was absolutely incredible. Bob's plot line on his own was 10/10 omfg. I'm still recovering from really, really shit mental health and it keeps coming back and the way mental health was handled in Thunderbolts* has made me feel seen in a way nothing else has. We watch mental health videos at school and I feel nothing, or I watch films that are entirely about mental health and yeah, okay, they're sad and they're good but I feel nothing. This? Nothing has explained it more than the Void. I have rarely hated any character more than I hated the Void, because in a weird fucking way, I know him. He's fictional, but he's also very, very real.

Florence Pugh's acting was phenomenal. I cannot praise her enough. The line "I have so many" broke something in me, I think. She was simultaneously heartbreaking, healing and hilarious and I fucking adored her. Also, kudos to the makeup department because she looked fucking incredible.

Kudos to the stunt doubles too. I love stunt doubles, y'all are awesome, and you were NOT pulling punches on this one.

Things I wished there was more of:

Bucky screen time. I know he was there a lot, but I felt like there was more Alexei than there was more Bucky, which makes sense but also I'm more of a Bucky fan so I WANT MORE BUCKY :(((((( also we were promised a film about Bucky and he was sidelined. I know this is being said a lot, and it's annoying as fuck, but it is true. He doesn't have any special reason for being a main character, but Sebastian Stan has worked his ASS off as Bucky and he is always the side guy for someone. Steve, Sam (although I do have things to say on him), now Yelena? Bucky needs his own time too.

Alpine. GIVE ME MY GIRL PLEASEEEEEEE MARVEL I BEG YOU ON MY HANDS AND KNEES GIVE ME MY CAT PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLE-

Scenes of the team in their day to day life. We saw a snippet of Bucky, we saw half a glimpse of Alexei, and it wasn't enough. I am more interested in the daily lives of these guys than I am in half the shit with Valen-fucking-tina.

Speaking of Valentina, she continues to piss me off. I can't even like her because she's hot. She's a fucking cunt. I can't believe I'm saying this, but I hate her more than I hate Walker. I would like more scenes of her being fucking DECIMATED please.

I was going to say I wanted more scenes of Mel being brave, but actually, we got enough. I really liked her. She wasn't any big hero, but she called the right person for help, and I think sometimes if that's the best you can do, that's being a hero in itself. So I love her, and I think she was incredibly brave for calling Bucky at all.

Right. Some people are gonna be pissed at me for this one, but Sam. I wanted more Sam. I'm going to step away for a second as a Sambucky shipper, and just be a Sam fan. Actually this needs its own section.

SAM. I understand that this is a film about the Thunderbolts*, and about Yelena and this group of people who aren't exactly perfect but they're heroes all the same etc etc. And I know people are angry that they're making the New Avengers without Sam because MARVEL is sidelining him, and I absolutely agree that he has been sidelined too much. He gets the shield, it goes to Walker. He gets it back, now Captain Carter is the famous captain. It's shit, and he's being treated like shit, and I'm so angry about it. But I think, in this instance, as much as it is absolutely shit, it kinda makes sense?. Valentina's character was always going to take credit for it, and so she was always going to try and make the New Avengers. I'm not saying it was inevitable, I'm saying that from a plot point of view, it makes sense. They've got Sam pissed about it, they've been setting up Sam's avengers for a while, and we can all see that. They aren't being subtle about it. I, for some fucking reason, have faith that Sam will get another few moments to shine at the very least, and he will lead his own Avengers. I don't think Bucky and Sam are fighting as much as you guys think they are. I honestly think it will be okay. Maybe not as peachy as we would like, but it will be okayish. Sam will get his team and his recognition, and Bucky will get... his team. Bucky gets a family, anyway.

Considering the main cast consisted of Bucky AND Walker, there should have at least been a reference to Sam. Again, not from a Sambucky POV (kinda from a sambucky pov but hey, I'm just a little pathetic gay. let me be biased). Okay, not ENTIRELY from a Sambucky POV. But anyway. Bucky is now TIED to Captain America. He has been Captain America's close friend (that hurt to type) TWICE. He is INTERTWINED with Captain America. And Walker's fall from grace is BECAUSE of Sam. You know what would have been good? Walker making an offhand comment about it and Bucky making a little comment defending Sam. Nothing big, just a REFERENCE. Sam is huge. He's Captain fucking America. He has been sidelined for far too long. He isn't just the Falcon now. Captain America, whoever holds that shield correctly, is the face of MARVEL. Sam Wilson is the face of MARVEL and if there is a film that has characters who are that close to him? He should be mentioned. Not just because I want him to be, but because he deserves to be.

Anyway my main issues were Taskmaster's death, Bucky not getting enough screen time, Sam not getting so much as a crumb, a lack of Alpine, and not getting enough of the team's daily lives. Valentina getting punched in the face would just be a wonderful bonus.

Overall, a brilliant movie. Highly recommend. I cried, so that tells you it's worth something. Go watch it, if only for Bob and Yelena and Bucky on a motorbike.

(EVERY SCENE BUCKY WAS IN WAS SEXY AS FUCK. THIS IS THE REASON I'M NOT A FULL TIME LESBIAN BECAUSE HOLY SHIIIIIIIT HE WAS HOT.)

(SO WAS FLORENCE PUGH ACTUALLY LIKE GODDAMN GIRL WHAT WERE YOUR PARENTS PACKING????? I'M SO FUCKING GAY OH MY GOD YOU GO QUEEN, SLAYING LITERALLY AND FIGURATIVELY. FUCK YES.)

Very good movie. Not enough Sam, Bucky or Alpine. Much good other things though. Very good. Very very good. Holy fucking shit. I would die for Bob.

Okay I'm done now bye enjoy your day as much as you can, hydrate, take your meds, get at least six hours sleep, and you're doing great just by being awake, okay love you <3

[wanderingwolfwitcher]

Eskel and Sabrina descended ever deeper down the green slime coated stairwell, passing the occasional torch, drawing ever further downward into the earth beneath the island. Ever closer to the lost city of R'lyeh itself... the ancient carvings on the walls along the way only proving it further. They managed to avoid further confrontations with the cultists and Deep Ones... it seemed the ritual really was thankfully drawing in their attention. Reaching the cavern below, the end of the stairwell, they continued quietly onward, hearing and sensing the power and chanting emanating in the distance, his medallion going wild again. From her own reactions he could tell the red donkey could sense it all even more than him. Together they found a secure spot, hidden from anyone who might see them, and taking cover, his viper eyes and her large hazel pair looked out at the horrors of the cavern below. Monolithic stones coated in further dripping green slime, a sprawling, gnarled, ancient city as far as the eye could see.

The scent of the ocean and the putrid Star Spawn and sacrifices alike violating his nose. The hulking Leviathan at the head of the chanting worshipers, the abomination chained to one such monolithic stone... the sacrificial blood all over it, and piles of corpses of people, animals and sea life alike at the edges of the cavern. The glowing, rippling portal shone its otherworldly, eldritch light upon all, probably with which they hoped to summon Cthulhu from his slumber and prison somewhere in the city beneath the sea. Hundreds of followers, Deep Ones and other abominations, some more like squids and octopus than anything else. And above all... he saw the Necronomicon, glowing and open beneath the light of the portal. The Witcher grimly assessed the ranks and positions of the cultists, their backs to the pair of them from their spot amid the rocks overlooking the chamber... then at last he looked back Sabrina, giving the cursed Sorceress a pat on her broad back. Leaning in to speak in a murmur for her alone to hear. It was now or never, what they had come all this way and went through everything for. It almost felt surreal to be here, at the precipice.

"Try not to look at the Leviathan or the portal directly, red. It might not be a true Great Old One, but it has some of their eldritch power, as a Star Spawn. Don't let it in any more than it is. I can see the Necronomicon from here. Should I start throwing bombs and loosing crossbow bolts and Signs? Distract them from it, while you make a break for it? If so, head to a spot closer to it, but behind cover of the rocks. On my signal, I'll draw all the attention of the cavern my way."

@fallesto

She felt a strange mix of fear and excitement, her hooves echoing in the stairwell as she followed Eskel. The whispers grew louder and more insistent, telling her of the power she could claim if she only embraced her new form, if she turned her back on her quest to be human once more. Yet she resisted, her mind clear and focused on the task at hand. The walls were lined with more carvings, depicting scenes of ancient rituals and monstrous beings that seemed to leap out of the stone. Her eyes watered from the acrid smoke of the Igni Sign that hung in the air, but she did not complain, her resolve stronger than ever. As they approached the bottom of the staircase, she could feel the vibrations of something massive, something alive and ancient, thrumming through the very earth beneath her. It was a disturbing, almost hypnotic rhythm that made her want to run and never look back. Yet she knew that was not an option. This was her destiny, her curse to bear, and she would not let it define her. Still it was a thought, if it comes too much, she can flee, escape from here, find a boat, get passage and get back to the main land, buy some time, find one of her bases and try and work there before it was too late, coming to the thick of it, was a complete and utter fools goal.

The stairs ended abruptly in a large chamber, the floor covered in a thick layer of slime that stretched out into the darkness. In the center, a massive stone altar dominated the room, stained with the blood of countless sacrifices. Chained to the altar was a creature unlike anything she had ever seen – a Leviathan, a horror from the deepest abyss, its tentacles writhing in fury. The creature's eyes were closed, but she could feel its malevolent presence, a palpable force that filled the air. Around the altar, a group of cultists dressed in tattered robes chanted in a language that seemed to make the very air vibrate. They had not noticed the Witcher and his unlikely companion yet. What she would give .. to be one of them right now, to be something so .. amazing, to inspect it, study it, learn from it and cut it open to gain the power and spoils, as she shakes her head, no .. she cannot .. but it was a thought that had brought here to this sorry mess anyway, as her eyes shifted.

To the side of the altar, she saw a group of monsters, their twisted forms standing guard over an open portal. The swirling vortex of eldritch energy was a window to another world, and through it, more of the foul creatures were being pulled into this one. Their eyes, those of madness and hunger, fixed on the cultists as they emerged, ready to serve their new masters. The whispers grew to a fever pitch, urging her to join them, to become one with the darkness. She clenched her teeth, fighting the urge to flee, her eyes never leaving the scene before her. As they where already too late, they had bridged the worlds, opened a portal and where taking creatures from one side through the other, as she stepped back for the moment, what a mess this was, as she knew, they where trying to expand the portal, bring something else over, something bigger, more dangerous and something she knew from experience, these humans would in no way shape or form, have a hope in hell of trying to command.

[thesnackthatsmilesbacck]

“On… a scale of… on… one to ten,” he said, blinking slowly, words dripping out of his mouth like honey sliding down the side of a jar, “how bad of a… idea would it be if we got married?”

I blinked once.

Twice.

There was a full beat of silence where the words just sat in the air between us, suspended like dust motes in sunlight. Then I laughed. Not because it was funny—okay, it was funny—but also because if I didn’t laugh, I might have started crying instead.

Katsuki Bakugou, my husband—technically, yes, already my husband—was flat on his back in a hospital bed, post-surgery, doped up on something strong enough to pacify a dragon. He’d wrecked his arm in the war. Not in some noble, cinematic, slow-motion kind of way. More like: there was a scream, an explosion, and then his arm was no longer behaving like an arm. Just… meat. Bruised and bloodied and dangling like it wasn’t sure it wanted to be part of him anymore.

They fixed it—mostly. New tech, new hope, new promises. They opened him up and did something that was either medical or miraculous or both. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know which.

But the anesthesia? That was the real show.

“A horrible idea,” I said solemnly, placing a hand over my heart like I was pledging allegiance to the worst version of our future. “Absolutely catastrophic. God-tier mistake.”

He looked at me like I’d ripped the moon out of the sky and stomped on it with my shoe.

“But… I like you,” he said, pouting in that half-conscious, half-pathetic way that would’ve been embarrassing if he were even remotely sober. His lips were dry. Eyes a little glassy. Pupils like blown-out balloons.

And I felt it then—that sickening swell in my chest. Like love, maybe. Or panic. Or maybe they’re the same thing, just with different names depending on the lighting.

“I like you too,” I whispered, because anything louder might shatter the weird, trembling stillness of this moment.

There was a machine beeping softly behind us, counting his heartbeats one by one. Each tone felt like a footstep closer to something I couldn’t see. Something we hadn’t talked about yet. The thing that comes after the war. After survival. After the part where everyone expects you to be okay because you're not bleeding anymore.

Bakugou blinked slowly again. “You married me,” he said, frowning like he was trying to do the math on something that didn’t add up anymore. As if he was trying to remember things in his loopy head. “Wait… did you?”

“I did,” I said. “You insisted. You said you wanted to sign the papers before surgery so if you died, I’d get your pension.”

He nodded seriously. “Smart.”

I swallowed a laugh and looked down at our hands—mine curled around his like a prayer I hadn’t decided how to say yet. His skin was warm. Clammy. Real.

Sometimes I wonder if loving someone like him is a kind of delusion. Like believing in ghosts, or in your own goodness. Something you do because not doing it feels worse. Because the alternative is emptier.

“I think,” he murmured, eyes fluttering, “we should get married again. Better wedding. With cake.”

“You’re high,” I said.

“But romantic.”

“You cried because they made you wear the hospital gown.”

“Still valid.”

I leaned in, brushing hair off his forehead, trying not to fall into the part of me that always wanted to memorize him—his scars, his softness, the sharp edges no one else seemed to survive. I wanted to say something permanent. Something that didn’t feel like a half-stitched seam.

Instead, I said, “If you forget any of this when you wake up, I’m telling everyone you proposed to me under anesthesia while drooling.”

His eyes closed, lips twitching. “Still counts…”

And for a moment, everything was still. Just the beeping. The warmth of his fingers. The dull ache of almost losing him folded up into the hospital sheets like a secret I hadn’t told anyone yet.

Maybe love is a horrible idea.

But maybe it’s the only one that makes any sense.

[starrykie]

When Our Eyes Met

Yeon Si-eun x Male reader (Weak Hero)

Word count 888 | not proof read | nsfw - handjob, fluff

Yeon Si-eun - the boy you caught yourself staring at more often than you’d care to admit since the first day of school, suddenly snapped and knocked out the bully in your class. 

You hadn't noticed it, something was definitely wrong with the way he acted earlier, and it happened so fast. Your best friend, Su-ho came to stop him before he stepped on the bully's face. 

Si-eun started to swing the metal chair, and you grabbed it, halting it's swing before it could hit anyone else. Your heart skipped a beat as you locked eyes with Si-eun, and shit, his gaze-blazing with fury-is so intense yet somehow... it looked so pretty. You definitely wouldn't mind getting hit by him.

Right then, when you were about to say something, the teacher interrupted and the fight was over, leaving you standing there, lost in your own thoughts-trying to make sense of what just happened, and why you couldn’t stop thinking about Si-eun.

Su-ho succeeded in befriending Si-eun, who automatically also became your friend. The three of you started hanging out more, and you even began teaching Si-eun how to take down opponents stronger than him. But there was one thing that always left you weak in the knees-the way he looked at you.

One faithful night, when Su-ho had to take an order, you were left alone with him. It was late, so without thinking, you offered-no, insisted- that Si-eun let you give him a ride home.

You placed your helmet on his head, your hands brushing his hair for just a second, and then hopped onto your motorbike, You were ready to drive him home, just another routine favor-until he climbed behind you.

And then, shit- he was so close. His body pressed against yours, his chest practically sticking to your back as he settled in behind you. You could feel every inch of him, the warmth of his presence sending your heart into overdrive. This wasn’t how you imagined it at all.

You couldn't focus at all, your mind racing as you drove him home. The hum of the engine was drowned out by the sound of your own heartbeat pounding in your ears. You kept praying he couldn’t hear it, praying he couldn’t feel the way your body tensed with every inch of space between you two that didn’t exist anymore.

Arriving infront of his apartment, you let out a sigh of relief when he climbed down your bike. But then he turned around, helmet still in hand, and casually said, ‘Come in for a sec. My dad brought back some snacks from his trip. I saved some for you and Su-ho.’

How could you possibly say no to him? Before you even realized it, your feet were already moving, carrying you inside like they had a mind of their own.

The door shut behind you with a soft click, and just like that, you were sitting on his soft couch. You were lost in your own thoughts, your eyes wandering across his home, you didn't notice him sitting down beside you.

You finally noticed him, sitting so close, his presence pulling you back to reality. Your eyes met- again-and that familiar, dangerous flutter hit your chest like a punch. Sensing that you might do something stupid if you stayed any longer, you started to stand up, but before you could, Si-eun grabbed your wrist and pulled you to him.

His soft lips pressing against yours, and hell, you couldn't pull away from him. Everything you've been holding back, it all shattered the moment he kissed you. You kissed him back like it was the only thing that made sense in the world.

You placed your hand on his waist while guiding him down softly onto the arm of the couch, still kissing him. You didn't want to break it. 

Eventually, Si-eun broke the kiss because he had to catch his breath, he looked so messy, his hair disheveled and his hoodie ridden up, thanks to your wandering hands. His chest rose and feel, trying to recover from the kiss.. you just stared, because damn, you did that to him.

You started to kiss Si-eun's neck. You want to do all the way in, but you held yourself back, not wanting to scare him. You felt his cock hard- the same goes for you. Tugging down his zipper while your other hand reached for your own. 

You wrapped your hands around his cock, as you guided his hands to do the same for yours. Grunting and rubbing against each other, you stared into his pretty eyes- the ones that got you weak and even hornier now. 

You both reached the climax soon after. With your foreheads pressed together, you stayed there-panting, quiet, hearts still racing in sync.

Yes you slept over at his house after that, curled up in each other’s arms, your bodies tangled beneath the sheets, and sleeping facing one another.

When morning came, you stirred awake with a hazy mind, half-convinced it was all a dream. But then you saw him. Si-eun, still asleep, hair a little messy, lips parted just slightly, face soft and unguarded in the quiet light of morning.

You closed your eyes with a smile as you pulled him closer, and let yourself drift back to sleep with him in your arms.

I finished watching weak hero class 2 yesterday, and wanted to read a 'x male reader' fic but there's not much of it, so I decided to make it myself at 3am. Enjoy stars!

[bigmamaelli]

For The First Time

Part 1

꧁ You didn’t even know his name. He was just some tall guy with curly hair you’d see between classes—background noise, basically. But then your friend turns out to be his sister, and suddenly the hallway crush you swore wasn’t that deep starts feeling a little more… possible.

2019

hamzah- senior

y/n- junior

You had a small crush on him.

It wasn’t the kind of crush that kept you up at night or made your heart race every time you saw him—nothing dramatic like that. It was more of a habit. Something small you didn’t even notice at first. You’d be walking to class with your friends, hair done, outfit cute, mid-conversation—and then he’d pass by. And without meaning to, your attention would shift. Your eyes would flick to him, just for a second. Like routine.

Tall, curly hair, always in that camo hoodie. He was usually surrounded by his friends, talking way too loud as they moved through the halls like they owned the place. He never really looked your way—except for maybe once or twice when your eyes met for a second. Nothing major. Nothing that made your heart do backflips.

But you didn’t mind. He was a grade above you, probably didn’t even know your name. Just a guy you saw around. One of those faces that stuck in your head for no real reason. Cute, yeah—but that was it. A passing thought. A background character in your school day.

You didn’t even know his name. He was just the hallway guy. The one you’d catch between fourth period and lunch—leaning against lockers, cutting through the crowd, laughing with someone you didn’t recognize. He was there, and then he wasn’t. And that was it

until one day it wasnt.

It happened one morning before first period. You were standing in the hallway talking to your hg like usual when you noticed your friend across the way, mid-conversation with someone. You wouldn’t have thought twice about it—until your hg elbowed you gently and said under her breath, “Bitch.. isnt that the guy you told me about?”

You glanced over. Sure enough, it was him—camo hoodie, curls, the usual crowd of loud boys lingering nearby. And there she was, talking to him like it was nothing.

You went to class like normal, slid into your seat next to your friend Jenna, trying not to overthink it. Still, curiosity got the better of you. You looked over at her, hesitating for a second before asking, “Who was that guy you were talking to before class?”

She didn’t even look up, still digging through her backpack. “Oh—my brother. Hamzah.”

Hamzah.

So that was his name. After all the weeks of catching glimpses and joking about him with your friends, you finally had something real to attach to him. But what really caught you off guard was the fact that he was her brother. Not that it didn’t make sense—they had the same face, practically—but still. You’d been to her house plenty of times and never once seen him around.

Now though? Now he wasn’t just the hallway guy. He had a name. A connection to you and you realised that now you might have a chance to talk to him.

“Oh right,” you said quickly, trying to sound casual. “I think he’s in some of my cousin’s classes.”

You kept your voice even, brushing it off like it wasn’t anything important. Jenna finally stopped rummaging through her backpack and looked up, eyebrows raised slightly like she knew something was up—but she didn’t say anything.

“Hey,” you added, glancing down at your desk, trying to keep your tone light, “do you think I could get his number?”

That got her attention. She turned to you fully now, giving you a disgusted look that made your stomach twist just a little.

“Not like that,” you said quickly, already waving it off with your hand. “It’s just—my cousin needs the homework from last week. She was out, and I don’t really know anyone else in their grade.”

The excuse wasn’t great. Even as you said it, you knew it sounded flimsy, but you hoped the delivery made up for it. You weren’t trying to make it obvious, but at the same time… maybe a small part of you didn’t mind if she caught on. Because now, there was a way to talk to him. A reason—even if it was kind of a bad one.

And that tiny shift—going from a hallway glance to maybe a real conversation—was enough to stir something new in your chest. Still chill. Still casual. But maybe a little excited, like that little crush was now potential.

—

The rest of the day passed in a blur—classes, lunch, more classes—but in the back of your mind, you kept circling back to one thing: Jenna actually gave you his number.

You were walking home with your cousin, both of you deep in a full-on strategy session. She swore first impressions mattered, so obviously, the pressure was on. You tossed ideas back and forth the whole way, everything from a simple “hey” to some overly thought-out message that didn’t even sound like you.

By the time you got to your room, shoes kicked off and sprawled across your bed, the two of you were still debating. You kept opening your messages, typing something, deleting it, trying again. But eventually, you just said screw it. You didn’t know him. What was the worst that could happen?

You went with:

“hey this y/n, jenna’s friend. i think my cousin c/n is in your science class—do you have the homework from the other day?”

It was longer than you wanted. Way more formal than you normally texted. But it was done. Sent. Out in the world.

He replied five minutes later—basically instantly in guy time.

“oh yeah ik you fs gimme a sec”

Then, a few moments later, he sent the homework attachment.

You replied:

“thanks”

And that was that. Left on read.

You stared at the screen a second longer than you meant to, thumb hovering. You weren’t expecting a whole conversation or anything—but still. After all the buildup, it felt… a little anticlimactic. Like ordering dessert and only getting the plate.

But hey. He texted back. He knew who you were. And that was something. Maybe not everything, but definitely not nothing.

You set your phone down, flopped back on your bed, and let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Your cousin was still beside you, already trying to spin the whole thing into a positive.

“He texted back though. That’s good, right?”

You nodded, kind of shrugging. “Yeah.”

But the little “Read” receipt under your message sat there for a while—long enough for your cousin to go home, for you to eat dinner, and for you to start feeling kind of dumb for even caring.

Then, out of nowhere, your phone buzzed.

Hamzah:

“yo your cousin the one with the blonde hair right?”

You blinked at the screen, surprised. It had been hours. You weren’t expecting anything at that point.

“yeah why?” you replied, lowkey confused but trying to keep it cool.

Hamzah:

“she always mad as hell in that class lmao i thought she was gonna flip a table last week”

You let out a laugh, covering your mouth even though no one was around.

Just like that, it felt strange. Like he wasn’t trying to flirt or be weird—just talking. You started typing back, smiling without meaning to.

And maybe, that little hallway crush of yours had some actual potential now.

A/N first part of my new series also sorry for any bad grammar english isn’t my first language and i’m still getting used to writing on tumblr!!

[kuntprodukt]

I NEED YOU (I BREATHE YOU) PT.2

prev. chapter | Dante Sparda x reader | 18+ MDNI. SMUT, female reader, sugar baby&sugar mommy dynamics, age gap(reader is in her 20s), vaginal sex, unsafe sex, creampie, teasing, handjob, mirror sex, lingerie, public sex, light feminization.

Summary: The dress sits on your figure so well, little creases on your waist as the fabric wrinkles up in a seated position. Yesterday he fought demons for the mission. And tonight you will go out.

notes: thank you for my girl for proofreading this one @writingwisterias. So yeaaa...i had already this in my mind after finishing the first one, idk if there would be more after that. Reblogs, asks or comments and any kind of interractions are really appreciated!

tags: @melanchol1cs

Pop! Your lips purse out briefly, sending an invisible kiss to your own reflection, this lipstick suits you. Dante stands next to you. He is no expert in makeup, but anytime he watches you or Trish it looks like some sort of weird magic - impossible to master, weirdly enough. It makes sense, after all he is specialised in killing demons and master in every touchable weapon. Makeup isn't a weapon, at least he isn't aware of its body count if it exists. The dress sits on your figure so well, little creases on your waist as the fabric wrinkles up in a seated position. Closer to you, on the floor there is a kraft bag with something. Dante doesn’t give too much thought into that, tired and it would be useless to pry into your business. Yesterday he fought demons for the mission. And tonight you will go out. Nice and clean.

A clap - your attention shifts to his face. You raised an eyebrow, clearly confused why he even did that. And he stays silent with pursed lips. Oops, embarrassing. Old man habits, they don't die but roots grow deeper after every birthday -  the ones you seem to get off sometimes. He hopes, watching you turn away again.

“Ready?” His fingers squeeze your cheeks in the mirror, your reflection frowns - light crease in between your brows as they come closer. Like a displeased cat. 

“You’ll ruin my look,” Your hand slaps his ones away, coaxing a chuckle out of him. “...stop” 

“Can't ruin something already perfect.” Dante coos, before his gaze falls down to your cleavage. Deep cut. Pretty. He spotted a little reddish nonlinear spot, like a nebula on the visible soft side of your boob, close to sternum. A pride fills his chest - his job, even though he didn’t intend to leave a hickey. He wants to knead your chest again, to feel its weight filling his palm. Hey, old man, dirty thoughts down - tonight is all about spoiling and enjoying each other's companionship.  

You exhale, there is no answer or “thanks”. Anyone else would think you are a little spoiled daddy bitch. Just a sigh. Your chest falls down with the air out. Not looking at his reflection, avoiding his eyes and pretending this didn’t flatter you. With all that time with you, he knows well your subtle changes in expressions - a deep exhale, avoidance but a hint of curled up lips are enough to tell him your thoughts. Brief, subtle details matter so much. You like him too much for a sugar mommy, too much than you supposed to. Sometimes for him this isn't only about money. 

“Babyyy!!” Your sweet voice. Baby, god, b-a-b-y. Again, weak in his knees - he'd fall on them just to eat you out if he had an appropriate moment. He hums softly, probably looking like a puppy - all his attention on your open palm.

“I bought something, but it doesn’t look good on me…” Dante raises his eyebrow, questioning your words silently. Bullshit, you look perfect in everything. And you don't seem to be in need of Lasik. 

“Impossible.” He clicks his tongue, shaking his head. Existence of Atlantis is much more believable right now. 

Your hand delves to the paper bag just to appear with a lacy lingerie in your hold, dark violet fabric, soft to touch and elegant curves of half transparent material would not shy to hint your nipples through it, the straps would sit on your waist leading his gaze to the underwear, the garment would hug your waist and hips so right, while bra would gently hold your tits - a Victoria's Secret model would die green out of envy. You are up to something.

“It’s so big for me…” You coo and Dante knows you are lying shamelessly. ”Dumb me didn’t try it before buying” 

“So?” 

You hum, tilting your head and nodding to point lingerie to Dante. “I think it’d look so good on you…”

His lips form a thin line, tensing after your words and eyeing you with that fabric in front of him. Conflicted, confused and half-hard. Should he deny your fun? Actually… no. First of all, he isn't insecure of his own masculinity, a lingerie and make up wouldn't make him a less man - to see you lit up is worth it too. Second point is… You give him money, buy him stuff for simple things; make you less lonely and entertain you sexually, he’d be damned to ruin your fun. And his. Dante takes lingerie in his hold, silently looking at your face to see the sparkle in your eyes - you are happy and grateful. This is enough for him. 

It is tight. He doesn't understand how, but he was able to put it on him without ripping and ruining the expensive fabric. It stays tight on his chest, the soft dark violet curves of lace press against the hard muscular skin. Squishing slightly his nipples. The horizontal strap sits on his waist, hugging his curves like it belongs here and forcing his mind to wonder with many doubts. Is his waist so narrow? Or did you just somehow measure his parameters? Appearing to your eyes in it, engulfing in the glimpse of admiration in them and you almost jump to your feet with a mascara tube in your hand. Again. Dante doesn't question, leaning to you so you’d be more comfortable to apply the black mascara to his white lashes. It emphasizes his bluish eyes. 

Ready to go. Finally.

This hits harder when you are close to get inside just to sit in the passenger seat. He stops you, no way. There are many raunchy magazines in his car, forgetting to hide them. And the lingerie is so tight against his chest, etching into his skin like thorns right now. Of course you stand next to his car - no way Dante lets you in when his car is full of his dumb and guilty pleasure - he quickly hides them under the seat before giving a nod. The road is clean and a pretty thing can get inside without him disappointing you. Dante isn't even sure if you care about that, but he is a 43 years old man still jerking off to women in those magazines - a sign of loser and if he may differ, he is not. 

Your eyes dart to his hands on the wheel. Fingerless gloves. Dante always wears gloves, he has probably an entire collection of them too. Something he didn't realize, but you did. Gifting every now and then new pairs, unfortunately your sweet intention was a failure, not to admit that those are not to his taste - they cover his finger tips. Too elegant. Formal. Fingerless gloves are the way, probably not for you, unaware how suitable they are for every situation in life. And he needs to be ready. Of course, they provide warmth for his palms, but that isn't the point of them - the most important part is that they keep his fingers ready for action. Perfect for situations where precise handling is required, such as playing with your nipples. He needs to feel them stiffen in between his fingertips as they’d roll while applying perfect pressure on the sensitive nubs. 

The road was quick or maybe Dante was trying too hard to ignore the tightness of the lingerie, weirdly enough it creates new sensations, his cock grazes on the fabric, making it harder - the same happens with his nipples. This is pleasant and shivering friction, he wishes this evening ends quicker just to fuck you into the mattress of your bed. Or of your daddy. That man probably doesn't care how you spend the money he gives you. Car stays still in the parking lot as the light of the restaurant hints at the liveliness of the place. It plays on your faces, loud voices sometimes reach you just to end up muffled by the car. His palms slap his thighs as a gesture “i'm ready to go”.

“Wait! I forgot about this” you mutter, rummaging your bag before pulling out a rose elliptical shaped object. A sex toy, a small vibrator. “Unbutton your pants.”

He raises his eyebrow before you add. “Pretty please, baby?”

With a heavy sigh, Dante does as you asked - after all, so polite and with his favorite pet name. God, he needs to finger your pussy while his lips would suck on your clit on the backseat. And with lipstick? Hell, this would be even sweeter, dirtier, the sight of red marks on your pussy would be close to an art piece. His cock twitches, half-hard glistening with precum that has been leaking all this road and tainting the fabric, inviting you to lick them away.. It throbs harder as the colder, hard surface of the toy joins, the lingerie helps it to press against the tip - holding there. Anything after leaving the car feels surreal, not so important due to the steady vibrations against his cockhead.

If someone gave him the potion of truth right now and asked what you have been talking about all this evening - he’d ask them to shoot him because he has no idea. Zero thoughts, the most perfect one too. All his focus was not on the melting food on his tongue, unfortunately neither on your cleavage nor the prices on the menu, or how people were eyeing you both. Right now, he is at the edge of cumming in his pants like a schoolboy after kissing a girl for the first time. His cock keeps leaking the precum, shifting his position just to accommodate the boner straining against the lacy lingerie underneath his pants. Not sure, still in the best case scenario his jeans would have a clear small spot. Lingerie’s straps etch into his chest tightly, there would be left red marks after that with sensitive nipples, while vibrator keeps the buzzing sensation in his body, sometimes to play with him you’d set the intensity higher just to see him try to compose himself. That sex toy can be damned, he is a 43 years old man. The first wet dream he had was years and years ago, now he feels like a young man with sperm in his brain; sensitive to every hint of breeze, to every change in your gaze and to his own movement. 

You are supposed to pay for him, which you did multiple times and today is no exception. Financial field isn't his forte, but Dante can spoil you differently. And you don't seem to mind this, you like this. So it is a jackpot.Those are your relationship with him - comfy for him, gambling isn't his best  so debts with Lady won't pay themselves. Standing there, not focused on anything other than dumb lingerie etching in his skin with additional vibrations against his tip. Dante should be given an award for enduring all this. Your palm curls on the crook of his elbow just to pull him to some hall. Before that he heard you asking something, - too unfocused to listen to you or noticing weird glances from waitresses. Whatever. You push him into the bathroom, closing the door behind you. Click!

The room is a single user one, clean and gives all the necessary privacy to the client better than Devil May Cry has, that one can’t even provide the light or flush the water, thank god your money keeps rent paid. Still, not comparable to the bar ones he has been to. They aren't as clean as this one, no luxuries but only yellowish lighting and sticky floor with someone throwing up loudly in one of the stalls. Some men can't even aim right. Nor do they have the wide mirror, like this was made with the idea for mirror sex. Maybe he is overthinking this, his thoughts are not always messed up with you but tonight there is no way not to think about you. You, oh, his mind generates the sight of you in different scenarios like a rapid flash; your twisted with pleasure face, your perfectly manicured nails, the eye guiding curve of your waist to your hips and your drenched cunt, puffy lips after a long session playing with it. All this, while his eyes messily drift on you, standing in front of him and leaning back. Palms hold the edge of the cold, wide flat surface - using sink as a leverage. 

Dante leans in, lost in the desire to finally, for god’s sake kiss you but the moment ends up ruined - you tilt your head away, not giving what he needs again. 

“A kiss? Mmm…” You hum. Your hand creeps to the button of his jeans and he sighs. Anticipating the freedom from the tightness. “Today my kisses ARE expensive” 

The fly is unzipped and unbuttoned, you can see what a mess he has been making all this time; lingerie is already drenched while the toy feels sticky under your fingertips. His cock bobs to his hip, twitching in the air with many beads of pre-cum rolling down from his aching tip just begging for any kind of attention. Who are you to deny it? Eventually your hand goes in contact, and it twitches in your fist, gripping his leaking cock, painfully hard and the small vibrator is finally far away from him. He didn't notice how it got placed on the sink, a rose object tainted with traces of his precum. Your face feigns sadness, like you are disappointed to end up without kisses too. Batting your eyelashes, like butterflies’ wings. Messing with him. 

“This lipstick cost a looot…”

“A lot?” Dante muses, your hand begins slowly pumping his cock, gripping tightly while making those sweet, steady movements - up and down. He swallows down a moan. Like a thirsty man in front of a cup of water, Adam’s apple bobs as his throat feels drier than it has ever been. His eyes jump to your thighs. Warm, soft and homely - he can imagine his head in between them. 

“50 bucks.” 

“Do I look like I give a damn?” His hand creeps up to hold your jaw and leans in to pepper your cheek with kisses, leaving a heavy hot red marks as the pace becomes messier, brushing the angle of your jaw and his eyes are full with the burning need to fuck you finally. This is too much. “Spoiler, I don't. Lipstick be damned.”

You giggle as he pushes your legs apart, spreading them wider to settle in between them easily. His hips buck into your hand and you know damn well what he needs right now. It is all written on his face, with the needy glimpse in his blueish eyes as his chest rises up and down heavily. His hands travel lower, to pull the skirt of your dress higher exposing your clothed pussy. His fingers curl underneath the fabric, pulling it aside to get the glimpse of it. It glistens with your slick, strings of it clinging to the folds and begging him to drop down just to swirl his tongue or to suck on your clit. He doesn't think there is too much time to do it nor is there any intention to do that. 

With a low grunt coming from his lips, his hips messily press against your, bucking up as his cock press in between your folds - this is enough to coax out a moan, your warm wetness engulfs so softly as he grinds against your pussy in a erratic pace. Bumping your clit with his hard leaking tip, before it gets impossible to endure. He needs to be inside you. Your pussy. His tip nestles in your hole briefly, like something to heighten his need to fuck you, before slipping it inside in a slow thrust. Feeling your walls stretch across his cock as it gets deeper, clenching down on him in a tight grip engulfing him more into your warmth, as the curve of his cock presses sweetly against the spongy spot forcing your back to arch into him. Your pussy makes him dizzy, breathless even so much that Dante needs to take a pause, pulling his cock out - not entirely, leaving his tip inside you. He wants to move it in and out, over and over until all he could hear would be wet and filthy noises as your pussy would gush harder around him. Just to edge himself while a poor soul may knock on the door, but seeing your hips buck into his, trying to get his cock back inside his mind refuses to torment you. At least for tonight. His cock gets buried inside you again, dragging it back and forth, trying to keep the pace steady and his balls hit your ass after every hard slam. 

Your reflections sparkle behind you, your head rolls back and is so well visible in the mirror. His cock throbs in your pussy, leaning in to pepper your neck with the kisses, in between softly biting on the skin before his tongue laps on the reddish mark, licking away the pain. All while his gaze didn't try to drift away from your figures there. Like a porn movie without a recording - this one would hit so much differently, there would be you and it is better than any professional plastic bimbo out there. His hips rut against you roughly slowly becoming messier, all he can focus on right now is the flesh-hitting sounds mixing with wet ones too. Dante doesn't care anymore, his balls tighten with every hard slam. And your shameful moans coming from your lips, trying to keep it low. Your tits bounce with every particularly hard thrust while your pussy clenches harder in a silent plea to fill it, not only with his cock, but cum too. 

Dante is a simple man, even your silent wish is a command which he will be happy to obey.

Two and more bites on your throat, before a final thrust, he buried himself to the hilt. Your body shudders eventually too, as your walls spasm harder around him with the crushing wave of orgasm hitting you both, pleasant shockwaves dumb every thought in the head. His cock throbbed, finally spurting ropes of cum into you. The warm cum fills your pussy almost to the brim, and his mind is blank - there is a bliss written all over his face, his lips are parted. It is exhausting, flesh-hitting sounds are not heard anymore, replacing them with heavy panting. Trying to recover faster than you usually do.

It was quick, but you came too. Still, feeling like a dumb puppy that has done something wrong, he wants to apologize. For what? For cumming inside you so fast, but a quicker kiss on his lips dissipates that torment. Dante’s eyes dart around the walls, the corners of them just to check if there are any possible cameras. He rushed in again, shamelessly fucking you in some restaurant’s bathroom - what if it is recorded now? God, some lucky bastard would be jerking off of your moans and pretty face. You notice his frown, brushing your hand over his chest while looking at him through your eyelashes.

“There are no cameras, babe,” Your words calm the tempest that was forming in his chest. “it’d be illegal to install them in a bathroom.” Who is he to question your words anyway? With relief, he stretches his body even slightly. A loud rip can be heard and with it the tightness around his chest is gone too. Oops. You are much stronger than him to endure uncomfortable clothing for hours with layers of makeup. He prefers his women without it anyway.

[daysiesz]

you knock twice on the zeus cabin's back window as quietly as you can. you try to look inside but the darkness does you no favors. for a second, you think your boyfriend got tired and went to sleep already, but then you hear a 'psst' coming from above you.

looking up, you see those two bright blue eyes and that head of blonde hair and a smile involuntarily grows on your face.

"come on up," jason whispers from the roof.

"come on up?? i hope you haven't forgotten that not all of us can fly, son of jupiter," you whisper back, while observing the walls of the cabin to see how you could climb up.

you hear a tut from your boyfriend and only feel a sudden rush of wind; the next second you're floating to the roof. a squeal of surprise almost escapes you, but in your shock, you clamp a hand over your mouth.

"if you wanted me to lift you up, angel, you only had to ask," jason jokes as you land on the roof, conveniently straddling his lap.

"and if you wanted me on your lap, angel, all you had to do was ask," you say, nuzzling your nose against his teasingly, only for him to pull you closer into a kiss.

"you really did just bring me up here to make out, didn't you?" you mumble into the kiss.

"not just that," jason says as you break apart, and turns your face by your chin to look at his elaborate date night set-up.

all you can do is gasp. a blanket lay spread out on the roof of the zeus cabin, along with pillows creating the coziest hideaway you'd ever seen. candles, placed a safe distance away from the blanket, lent a warm glow to the scene that made it look like something out of a dream.

you look to your boyfriend in disbelief. "jace..."

"like it? piper only helped with the candles, i swear, the rest of it was all me."

sensing the hint of nervousness in jason's voice, you huff a small laugh and take his hand, climbing off his lap only to pull him down to lay on the pillows. you lie beside him, fiddling with his fingers on your stomach.

"it's perfect," you say, but your tone takes on a pensive note.

"what's wrong?" jason's quick to ask, ever the most attentive to your slightest mood shifts. his

you sigh out as you bury your face in his neck, "do you have to go tomorrow?"

tomorrow was the day jason was supposed to return to camp jupiter. long distance wasn't easy for either of you, especially when both of you usually got caught up in school and camp. the few days of respite are the ones you spend at camp jupiter or the ones he spends are camp half blood. those are the days you've treasured most since you've been separated.

jason only rubs your hip in response, wanting, with every cell in his body, to say, "no. i'll stay. for as long as you want." but he couldn't.

"i'm sorry," you say, rising up as you lie on your stomach, your elbows supporting your weight as you look down at him, "i didn't want to ruin the mood, it's just- this is the best thing anyone's ever done for me. you're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

you speak in the quietest voice you were capable of, wanting this moment to be a secret just between the two of you, even though no one else was around. you wouldn't be caught dead saying all the things you swore never to say once you got in a relationship. but they were all true with jason.

mirroring your quiet tone, jason responds with all the sincerity in his soul, "i would give anything to stay with you, just a minute more."

you roll your eyes and try to lighten the mood.

"how cliche," you mutter with a smile on your face as you lean down to kiss him once more. he gently cups your face and you lose all sense of space and time in his arms.

once you finally pull apart, you say, "just you wait. once we move in together for university, you're never getting rid of me. enjoy the distance while you can, grace."

breathlessly, jason replies, "i can't bear it for a minute more."

a/n: after a point this felt like word vomit but anything for my pretty boy (rereading it and i kind of hate it but whatever ig). trust there will be so many more jason grace cuddling-no-plot fics in the future, please bear with me ♡

[hwnglx]

dating enhypen maknae line pro's & con's

based on tarot. i don't know these idols personally. energies are always changing. everything i state is for entertainment purposes only, alleged and NOT straight fact. pls take it with a grain of salt!

sunoo

pro's

immensely lively -> he's a boyfriend who can bring a lot of excitement, fun and laughter into his partner's lives

there's this mischievous energy to him, where i can see sunoo really enjoying to poke and provoke his lovers, often in a way where you can't really be mad at him

like this boy is so incredibly charming and has this coy side to him, he really knows how to wrap people around his finger and can often enjoy jokingly messing with his partners in that way as well

i keep seeing this image of two people just throwing things at each other back and forth -> the dynamic is likely to be very playful (i heard 티격태격 which refers to unserious “tit-for-tat” type of bickering)

he really likes there to be a natural and comfortable vibe between the two of you, and especially enjoys it when your conversation flows in this effortless manner

can be very receptive and sensitive when it comes to intuitively sensing the emotions of the person he's with

has a side to him that's much more softhearted, compassionate and nurturing than one would expect

can be very empathetic and gentle, especially if his significant other is hurting or going through something

knows how to serve his lovers according to their individual needs and likes making them feel cared for, i can especially see him expressing it through small but meaningful acts of service (does sunoo like to cook? i keep seeing him cook in my mind's eye, he might especially like taking care of people when they're sick)

can have this healing and soothing effect on the people he's close to -> spirit keeps showing me this image of wounds being bandaged and covered up

not the type of boyfriend who'll make you feel suffocated, controlled or stifled -> approaches romance in a more lighthearted and free-spirited manner

i also see a spontaneous side to him, where he's likely to be down to do some random and fun things on a whim

note; i keep seeing so many different dream-like images and scenes in my head, sunoo definitely seems to have a vast imagination and a lot of different fantasies about romantic scenarious in his head. it wouldn't surprise me if he's the member who enjoys sappy k-drama's.

con's

not the most trustworthy and reliable

can blow hot and cold, and be very moody and unpredictable in a way where it's difficult to understand him, find a middle ground or match yourself to him

i keep getting the feeling sunoo has no clue what he genuinely wants himself which can result in him giving his partners confusing and mixed signals

prone to putting on a more prideful front than what's actually reflective of his genuine emotions -> it'll be quite rare for you to catch him openly showcase his negative emotions, such as his insecurities but also his regrets, his sadness, his disappointments, etc.

i'm feeling this sense of embarrassment about it, he can feel immensely uncomfortable about anyone seeing him in that (in his eyes) “weak” and vulnerable state

doesn't enjoy the burden and responsibility that can come with a serious and committed relationship, which is why he's more likely to keep things light and easy

seems to have been through a decent amount of disappointment in regards to human relationships, which is why he can have the tendency to expect the worst before it even happens as a form of self-protection

and often mostly finds himself closing chapters before they could even go anywhere deeper

like “if i don't open myself up to this person and remain emotionally distant, they won't even have the chance to come close enough to hurt me”

also, if sunoo feels like the relationship comes with a lot of sacrifice or tiring work, i don't see him wanting to willingly invest his energy and time into someone else

he seems more like the type to enjoy the lovey-dovey honeymoon stage but not want to deal with anything that goes beyond the pleasant aspects of a relationship

there's this feeling of.. believing he's destined to be on his own? he feels like he can genuinely struggle matching himself to others and believes it's just easier for him to remain focused on himself most of the time

can also get incredibly dramatic and over the top, especially if he loses himself in a heated debate. he can get quite blunt and harsh with his choice of words

can be quite two-faced in a sense where he can go from immensely sweet and caring to surprisingly cut-throat

can therefore give a disingenuous and fake impression

jungwon

pro's

fun, excited and adventurous boyfriend who's open to exploring and experiencing different things with his lover

i can see him being the type of lover who makes even the trivial and most mundane things feel very special and memorable to the two of you

doesn't seem like the type to hold on to grudges for long or endlessly dwell on negativity -> forward-thinking and optimistic energy in him, which can be quite contagious

tends to be very supportive and have this encouraging and empowering effect on his lovers

let's say you find yourself stuck in your head, anxious, stressed or overthinking to the point of agony, jungwon is someone who's good at helping you get out of that negative mindset and providing you with more positivity

the type of boyfriend who boosts your confidence and makes you feel special

he's also very quick-witted and in possession of a sharp mind -> someone smart with good communication skills you can hold very intriguing conversations with

likely to be incredibly honest and blunt, he'll straight up tell you things the way they are

therefore it's unlikely for you to catch him lying or sugarcoating -> usually what you see and hear with jungwoon is what you get, he isn't afraid to be direct

not the needy or overly whiny type of boyfriend who gets extremely attached to his lovers

accepting and even encouraging of his partner's individuality and freedom as well -> not the type to latch and tightly hold onto his lovers and suffocate them

plays the role of the provider in the relationship -> displays a stable and dependable existence for his partner

i see him liking to show off his means and his abundance, so he could definitely enjoy gifting his lovers expensive things in order to impress them

con's

i immediately heard “master of my own world”

jungwon is very much a person who primarily has his own objectives, goals and desires on the forefront of his mind

therefore it's not unlikely for him to only be with a person as long as he himself feels like it, or as long as he feels like it serves him well -> i don't see him actually caring too much about how the other party feels

very very, almost overly independent -> not the type to cry after his lovers, he can see himself as too good for that (i heard “아까워” which means “it's a waste”)

there is a lack of accountability over his actions here

in jungwon's head, the way you feel about something is moreso the result of your own doing

meaning, let's say you're upset about him breaking things off with you, it's not unlikely for jungwon to play the “well you shouldn't have gotten that attached to me in the first place then” card (gaslighting tendency..)

also immensely stubborn guy, good luck trying to have this man budge or give in

he reads as the type of person who's always right in his head, very know-it-all and bossy type of energy

(this is a very virgo thing, especially moons) i can't shake this feeling he just looks at people as dumb very easily lol like “nah you don't even know what you're talking about”

i heard “according to my rulebook” he isn't necessarily controlling in an extreme manner, but moreso has a very clear and firm opinion on how things should be and doesn't easily move away from that narrative

let's say he gives you advice on something, he won't really like you not following his word or being doubtful of what he's saying (omg the taurus mars is coming through. i've met several of them and they can be sooo persistent and hate people disagreeing with them)

obsessed with stability

therefore, if jungwon feels like the boat is rocky and the relationship is becoming strenuous, it's likely he won't wanna deal with it or put effort in to work things through

especially if the connection displays a disruption and nuisance to his own individual life, he will not like or want to tolerate that

ni-ki

pro's

can get quite enthusiastic about starting a new relationship, so especially the beginning stages have the potential to be fun with him (i really don't think he's had much experience yet, so many things can still feel new and exciting to him)

pretty open-minded and down for cheerful experiences together with his partner -> i can see him liking the thought of trying something out that's very new and therefore thrilling to the both of you (e.g. trips to a unique place you've never been to before)

i also thought of amusement parks, especially sky-high rides that are scary, he's likely to enjoy dates like that (the inner kid in him coming out lmaoo, cute)

there's this non-judgemental energy to him -> doesn't seem like the type of person who looks at others with some sort of prejudice in place, he's likely to accept the person he loves with their little quirks and eccentric traits

very perceptive and observant lover, especially in the beginning stages, he gets a good understanding of the person he's with by studying and observing them

has this very easygoing and laidback type of uncomplicated energy -> isn't someone who'll be obsessed, intense and crazy in love from the get-go (if ever) and will make the relationship feel comfortable by allowing you to embrace yourself in the connection

isn't gonna be extremely attached to you either

dating him can moreso feel like you're dating your best friend who's just pleasant to be around

this boy is very intelligent and intuitive as well

definitely has some wisdom beyond his young age, so he can be surprisingly good at offering advice to you

is ready to lend an open ear to you when you're stressed out and need a place to let out your worries

i see ni-ki genuinely caring about the people he's close to, he just isn't someone who really knows how to express it yet, in a way where it doesn't come off overbearing (tbh it rarely does, but he can get scared to bother people)

there's this very sensitive and loving side to him that probably only the people closest to him really know of

con's

struggles to be assertive and can lack confidence when it comes to taking charge in the relationship

his energy is quite.. hesitant, indecisive and uncertain when it comes to how he should proceed -> doesn't feel sure enough in himself to make the right decisions and strongly take action in the connection

i mainly just see this as the result of a lack in experience, he always reads as immensely career-oriented moreso than a person who's used to building human connections

therefore he can find it difficult to establish a balance between the two (his professional and private life)

prone to overthinking a lot, but it's very unlikely he'll openly share his worries with you

i see him turning cold and distancing himself primarily

(oddly similar to sunoo) showcasing the more negative aspects of his feelings, like his insecurities, can just feel immensely uncomfortable for him, he doesn't wanna make himself look easily hurt, fragile or weak

can also get pretty tunnel-visioned when it comes to his own career -> doesn't want his partners to interfere in that and might put his work above you if he feels like you don't respect his passion for it

not the type to enjoy openly dating, i'd be so surprised to see ni-ki go public with his romantic relationship

can get scared about his relationship ruining what he worked so hard for, especially in terms of his public image and reputation

there's also a tendency for ni-ki to become surprisingly sharp-tongued and harsh if you manage to poke him too deeply or pinch a weak spot of his

he's relatively patient in general, but if ni-ki feels like you're taking it too far, he can get blunt, rude and inconsiderate with his choice of words

i can especially see this happening when you provoke him too persistently, he gets particularly sensitive about people not respecting his need for privacy, so if you continue to bother him after he's told you to leave him alone, ni-ki will hate that

if he's already told you he doesn't wanna talk about it and needs his space, it's best to just let him sort out and gather his thoughts on his own -> this can result in his lovers feeling left out in the cold and concerned

[mockerycrow]

REWRITTEN: Undercover II (Soap x GN!Reader)

undercover masterlist | next (original)

summary; after being tortured, you’re exhausted and your mind is somehow more scrambled than how you began. you meet john “soap” mactavish in a neutral setting. *rewritten. LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!*

[WARNINGS; medical inaccuracies, military inaccuracies (but way less than the og), angst. 3.5k words.]

“Any dog, you put him in the corner, no matter if they’re vicious or not, they’re going to bite back.” -Mike James.

I’m not sure when I become aware that I’m waking up, especially after passing out in the manner that I did. The world attempts to crawl back into your senses, the noises murmurs you can’t quite make out. The textures against your skin are there, but not recognizable just yet. Pain trickles in bit by bit, it almost feels like it isn’t there, like you’re somehow feeling someone else’s pain, almost as if you’re dissociating. First, it’s ice cold pain—the type that strikes your nervous system deep. It morphs into warmth, specifically where my wounds actually are.. Or the vague area they are in.

The warmth turns to hot burning pain, pulsing. Fucking hell. It’s so bone achingly deep that I kind of wish Makarov ended up killing me. I wouldn’t be feeling the guilt I feel now if I was dead, you know? I did so much for Makarov and it makes me sick to my stomach. So much. It feels like I’m stuck in mud or as if sandbags were tied down to my extremities. My throat aches terribly, fucking hell I feel like I swallowed glass and then rubbing alcohol right after. I hear different types of faint beeping.

Ugh, I don’t care. Just take me back to sleep. Or death; either would work.

Of course, my prayers are not answered. I swallow, trying my hardest to ignore the terrible pain in my throat as my muscles contract. My mouth is too dry to properly swallow. A quiet wheezy cough leaves me, which somehow nearly kickstarts my body into waking up. My fingers twitch as I slowly open my eyelid—my right eye being the only one to open as my left is still swollen shut. It takes me a moment to be able to focus my vision.

Hm. I’m in a hospital room—maybe an infirmary, too risky to bring me to an actual hospital. It certainly is not a makeshift medic tent, though. There’s a medical cart across the room next to a chair, a chart on the wall I don’t care to read. I’m wearing one of those paper blue gowns. “Fuck.” I croak, my stomach aching—the wound. My left hand goes to cover my belly, but it doesn’t move much and it’s accompanied by a metallic clinking noise. I look at it; and those fuckers handcuffed me. 

I can’t really blame them. I sigh, tugging my wrist a little, although it’s obviously no use. I let my arm go limp and instead use my right hand to cover my belly. I close my eye with a low grunt—they have to have cut me open or something, or they haven’t given me painkillers. This shit fucking hurts worse than getting actually stabbed. I feel like my large intestine is about to fall out. 

I spot an IV taped into my handcuffed arm, the clear tubing connected to the dispenser on an infusion pump. There’s a singular bag on a hook which is dark and red in color, being blood. I sigh shakily—fuck, I need meds. At least the blanket is comfortable. My jaw aches so fucking badly. I move my head a little, feeling something on my face—it’s tubing to oxygen and a feeding tube that’s down my throat through my nose. Makes sense on why I feel like I want to gag. I reach up and gently touch my jaw, finding bandages there. They treated my wounds, that’s for sure.. But why?

They talked a lot of shit, maybe they can’t find anyone else closely connected to Makarov like I was. Maybe they patched me up so they could break me back down at a later date. 

I nearly fucking shit myself when the door to the left opens. My heart begins to pound in my chest and I swallow harshly as an older tall, dark skinned man with glasses and curly hair pulled up tightly into a bun walks in with a doctor’s coat on, trailing behind him is a younger, paler woman with looser curls, cut to sit right above her shoulders, wearing scrubs. A nurse, maybe. “You’re awake. Good, we nearly lost you.” The man murmurs—his voice is smooth like butter, silky and.. American..? It’s Southern for sure, hearing that twinge. My shoulders lock up, tightening as they both stare at me. I don’t say anything back; I’m not sure what I could say. I ignore the loud beeping of my heart monitor as I watch the nurse exit the room shortly after they exchange words in a fit of murmurs. 

My eyes are glued to the man before me—my heart is fucking pounding, like I’m expecting the guy to pull out a knife to torture me next. I was thinking for a moment that this has to be a trick, but if it was, wouldn’t they bring out a Russian? Since all they know me as Zhenya? My free hand comes up and rubs my ear as I think I heard a murmur somewhere, I dunno—but it tickled. The doctor steps closer and I immediately try to sit up, an intense wave of nausea coming over me from the pain in my stomach. He puts his hands up, stopping in his tracks, a soft and gentle look on his strong features.

“Hey, you’re okay. I’m not here to hurt you,” The doctor rumbles out, a small smile on his lips. “I just need to check some vitals, ask you a couple of questions.”

I keep my eyes on him; he seems friendly enough but I’ve learned my lesson with people like this. I don’t try to stop him as the doctor lowers his hands and steps closer to me, gently moving around the infusion pump to face him more clearly. Not like I could do much to stop him, anyway.

I close my eyes, swallowing hard and unable to focus on the doctor. I feel like I’m on fire. 

“My name is Doctor Erikson, the nurse that just walked away is Nurse Johnson. I’m having her fetch you some painkillers.” Erikson murmurs softly, his smooth voice soothes me as I give him a shaky thumbs up. I’m too afraid to nod, in case of hurting my jaw. My hand lowers to my stomach. “In the meantime, I’m going to ask you some basic questions, questions we ask anyone with head trauma, or in your case, brain injuries.”

I open my eyes after that, looking up at him. He has a hand on the railing where my hand is cuffed. He must note that I look a little confused. “You nearly drowned and your jaw is broken, honey. You were asleep for longer than we anticipated.”

Oh. Doctor Erikson’s eyes seem kind. Big and brown, gentle yet worn. I feel a bit uncomfortable because it feels like he’s peering into my soul.. I blink a few times, realizing he’s talking to me. My lips part a little, my lip burning. He seems to get the jist before I speak up. “I asked what your name is.”

“Zhenya Antonenko.” I croak out and I wince a little; it hurts to talk and I sound like I eat nails for breakfast. Doctor Erikson stares at me for a moment, like he knows something, making me glance away. 

I feel like my head is filled with fluid, pressure very apparent in my skull. I can almost feel it sloshing around, dripping down my dorsal cavity. Maybe that’s just my spinal fluid. Something feels so fucking wrong. It’s so fucking hard to focus due to the pain. Where’s that nurse??

There’s a hand on my arm, which snaps me back to reality. I whip my head over so quickly my vision blurs. The pain in my jaw hasn’t dulled at all. The nurse walks in with a small plastic cup with some pills and a clear IV bag full of some sort of fluid. What was her name again?— “Ah, there you are.” Erikson utters, spotting the nurse. She gives me a kind smile, a bottle of water trapped between her armpit and her side. 

The nurse hands over the small cup of pills and the bottle of water to Doctor Erikson and I watch how she reaches for me IV. I flinch a little, causing her to pause. “It’s painkillers, I promise.” The nurse utters, holding up the infusion bag. “It’s morphine.”

I blink, my hands formed into fists. I try to get myself to relax—I don’t know her, but fuck do I need relief. My eyes flicker over to Erikson as the nurse hangs the IV bag up, using a wipe to disinfect the tube and my IV before connecting them. “These are muscle relaxers. We don’t typically give them to people who just had surgery, but with your injuries, you need them.” Erikson begins to explain. “If you can swallow these pills and keep them down, we’ll take the feeding tube out.”

…Surgery?

I swallow hard, unsure on how to respond. Erikson murmurs, telling me to tilt my head back and open my mouth. I reluctantly obey, staring at the ceiling as he lets the two tablets slide onto my tongue, and he pours some water into my mouth. I struggle for a moment, but I manage to swallow the water and pills down. I try to ignore my pounding heart—he’s American. He’s American. Makarov has no influence here. None. He’s not trying to kill me. I’m fine. I’m fine—

“You have some visitors that’ll be coming up in a few minutes.” Erikson says, breaking my little spiral. I flicker my gaze to him before looking away, my stomach aching. Something is soothing the edge of my pain, though. The morphine. Wait—focus. Visitors?

I eye the doctor as he pulls out an otoscope to check my ears, moving closer to me. I stay still, letting him do his checkup. No reason to make his job harder. He throws away the single use cone, turning the tool around, murmuring for me to look straight ahead. He uses the small light from the otoscope to test my pupil dilation. He tests my right pupil three separate times, making me a little nervous. Because why is he only checking one of my eyes a couple of times?

I snap out of my thoughts for the nth time as the door opens, my eyes darting to it. My hand grabs my blanket out of instinct, my heart leaping out of my chest as three people enter the room; the man with the mutton chops, the mohawk, Laswell, and… 

“Captain?” I croak, shocked, unable to stop myself. My voice sounds fucking terrible, my throat hurts so badly. But my team leader walked in—”Captain Hudson??”

Captain Hudson. Fucking Captain Tyler Ryan Hudson, my task force’s team leader. I haven’t properly seen him in fucking years. My eyes burn, tears threatening to form in my waterline because what the actual fuck is going on?? 

Doctor Erikson puts the otoscope back on the wall before approaching the three, shaking Hudson’s hand, mumbling something I don’t quite catch. Something about my mental state. I almost want to laugh. They don’t know the fucking half of it. Hudson gives him a nod before politely pushing past the doctor, darting for my bedside. I let out a hoarse noise of.. Desperation? Despair?

I don’t know. “The mission is over,” Hudson murmurs my real name so lowly it rumbles deep in my fucking ears and rattles my soul. “It’s over.” His hand is on my shoulder.

It’s over. Just like that? In just a fucking flash?

I let out a noise similar to a sob—I’m not sure if it’s a sob myself. I lift my handcuffed wrist, a silent question he immediately gets. “It’s just a safety precaution, okay?”

“Precaution?” I question. His eyebrows pinch together for a moment before he utters my name, which sounds so foreign. Laswell cuts in, approaching the same side of the bed Hudson is on. “You’ve.. You’ve been through a lot, alright? More than any of us know,” She utters, her eyes kind and tired. “You need a psych evaluation before you’re allowed to roam—and time to heal.”

I tense; she’s trying to sugarcoat it, but they’re caging me like a rabid fuckin’ animal. Like I’m going to explode any moment.

..I guess I can’t blame them because I feel such strong fucking rage flowing through me, mixing with.. Relief? Anguish? Is all of the above an option? Hudson’s warm palm remains on my shoulder, giving me a gentle squeeze as Laswell continues to speak. “I know it’s hard. Unfortunately, it’s going to be some time before a proper evaluation, so we’re having Soap stay by your side until the psychologist comes.”

I snort, looking up at her. “What kind of name is Soap?”

There’s a snort from the guy with mutton chops—one of the men who waterboarded me. Dear God, don’t let him be Soap.

I glance up at Hudson who is worried—there’s crinkles in the corner of his eyes as he squints, that’s his tell. He’s so unreadable until you know his tells. I cough gently, wincing as it feels like my guts are threatening to spill as I do. Laswell grabs an extra pillow nearby that’s wrapped in disposable plastic. She tears it off and gently moves my arm, putting it against my belly and guiding my hand to it. “Use the pillow to keep pressure on it. Learned it over the years.”

The guy with the mohawk approaches Laswell, who hands him a handheld recorder. “This is so Soap can get your statements. We’re afraid with what you’ve been through, if you repeat it over and over, your brain will change details in order to protect you.”

I just look at her—I don’t want to nod, it hurts, so I hope she gets the message. Hudson squeezes my shoulder once more, making me look at him. “Laswell and I have to go.” He whispers, his tone solemn and full of worry. “We have quite a bit of admin to do.” I feel my heart drop to my stomach—I understand why he has to go, but fuck, the one man I’ve been able to trust in all of this has to leave so soon? I glance back up at Laswell who has a resigned look. 

I let out a breath. “Okay.” I bite my lip before quickly letting it go, feeling the twinge of pain from before. “Go. Not like I can go anywhere.” I croak, attempting a joke but it’s clear that nobody really finds it funny. Tough crowd. Laswell and Hudson quietly murmur their goodbyes to me, walking back over to where the guy with mutton chops is. The two of them push open the door to leave, mutton chops following them close behind and thus leaving me alone with the doctor, the nurse, and.. Soap, I guess.

I look at Soap, straightening my posture just a bit. His lip is slightly curled upwards into a subtle grin, smile lines creasing into his skin. It’s awkward to me for just a moment; a beat passes and he speaks, his eyes studying me closely. “Doc said someone should let ya know what happened, yeah?” As Soap studies me, I study him. His expression is.. Soft, but on guard; alert. He’s standing a bit away from my bed, a defensive measure. Can’t blame him, not when he was one of the fucks there when I got waterboarded for the nth time. My chest hurts thinking about it. I just stare at him.

Soap clears his throat, crossing his thick forearms, glancing at my heart monitor. “Internal bleedin’, broken ribs, broken jaw, stabbed.. Ah, they put a screw in yer jaw. Stab wounds weren’t too bad, but they did have to open you up to repair your abdominal wall, kind of like hernia surgery. Doc said you were lucky.” Lucky. Lucky, lucky.

“I’m lucky?” I mumble quietly, my throat spasming a little. I don’t feel lucky. I feel quite the opposite. Soap grabs a chair that’s against the wall and drags it nearby, plopping down in it. He’s still keeping some sort of distance. Not like I can do anything. Soap holds eye contact as he presses a button on the recorder and sets it on a tray nearby. “This is Sergeant John MacTavish, callsign Soap. Interviewee is..” He trails off. I swallow hard and utter my name loud enough for the recorder to pick my voice up.

God, it’s weird using my real name. I haven’t heard it properly spoken in.. I don't really know how long, really. It feels foreign on my tongue, in my ears, in my brain. Soap grins in return for my cooperation, repeating my name into the recorder, along with today’s date. I don’t hear it—I don’t ask for him to repeat it. My days will blend back together, anyway. 

Soap is uttering information about me into the device, stuff I’m not quite catching. He says my name, dragging me back into reality. “Start from the beginning.”

Where to start..? Which beginning? It’s not even ended. Will it ever?

Fuck, I can’t focus. I swallow. “Well.. I’m an E-5, a Sergeant. I am.. Or.. was..? Part of a task force, technically Task Force forty-six, but somebody had dubbed us Eclipse and it stuck. I don’t know why.” I suck my lip in and let it go before the pain set in, my fingers messing with the hemming of the pillow on my stomach. “It consisted of me, my Captain; Tyler Hudson and three other people.”

I pause for a second, my heart aching. “Trinity Wilson, Sasha Miranov, and Richard Jensen; the last two are KIA. I had been working with the CIA for years prior.. This was just something I had never done, or er, I mean.. On a big scale, I guess.”

My throat keeps closing, as if my brain doesn’t want me to continue. I don’t want to continue. “I would go anywhere they needed, one of those agents.”

I sit there and recount how I walked into a room—no cellphones, no smart watches; patted down before entry, and blacked out windows with thick walls to block signals. My finger brushes against the metallic bar of the side rail to my gurney. “I remember thinking to myself, ‘oh, so they’re being serious’.” I recall, my eyes focused on the lights glare on the railing. “I had never met Wilson, Miranov, or Jensen before this meeting, but Laswell and General Shepherd were in the room as well as Captain Hudson.”

I meet Soap’s eyes for a moment; he’s leaned forward, recorder in hand and elbow resting on his knee. He’s slightly hunched over, his blue eyes staring at me expectantly. I have to look away because for some reason his eyes make me feel like he’s looking right through me. God, it feels like he can see every fucking sin I’ve committed. All of the blood, the broken bones and mangled bodies—the consequences nobody but I have to live with by now. Fuck. FUCK.

Soap calls my name, snapping me back into focus. The buzzing in my eardrums suddenly stops as I look at him briefly before offering a quiet apology. It takes me a second to regain my senses and where I was in my story. “Uh.. Jensen—who we called Tommy eventually… long story. Anyway—He was MI6, so was Wilson. Miranov and I were CIA.”

I continue on with my recount; my skin is fucking crawling again, God. “Files were passed around, new identities, new lives, new legal documents. We were legally dead the second we stepped through the doorway.” I utter, clearing my throat. “We were confused, especially with certain details on the documents we were given. Cover stories that didn’t tie in with each other, but stories that made.. Sense, I guess.”

All of us were Eastern European, or parents with Eastern European blood,  or parents who immigrated in the general area. If I remember correctly, most of us were Ukrainian or Russian. I remember scoffing then, and I can’t help the scoff I let out now in front of Soap. “They killed us and had us reborn into ambitious soon to be terrorists.” The silence that follows my words is heavy. Neither I or Soap say a word for a moment. It wasn’t exactly a secret—I am a terrorist, aren’t I? Or at least connected enough to one to deem me even a little bit responsible, yeah?

It takes me a moment more to just.. Breathe. Fuck. My jaw hurts. I close my eyes for a moment, hearing Soap shift in his seat; a beat passes. “We had six weeks to prepare. Everything; brushing up on Russian and Ukrainian, moving our lives across the world, and making a name for yourself.” I pause, my throat tightening. “Uh.. Sorry. Losing my train of thought. We didn’t die as people, not really, but they had to scrub us from anything American. So.. we temporarily didn’t exist.”

Zhenya Antonenko. Zhenya Antonenko. Zhenya Antonenko. Zhenya Antonenko. There’s a drum in my head and every deep boom is counting down to.. Something. 

I don’t know.

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[dark-lord-of-awesomeness]

I know it probably won’t likely happen but funny scenario I thought of for RaCat au

Caryn and Shermie (and Filbrick but he’s optional maybe they left him at the airport because man got lost) or just the Pines come over to Ford’s house.

And they’re greeted with Ford, and Ford’s Co-Parenting Partner Fiddleford and Fiddleford’s Wife who is Emma-May who is also Stan’s raccoon wife, and Stan who’s Emma-May’s cat husband and somehow Tate’s stepfather when he’s a cat, and

Shifty who’s Ford’s kid, Tate’s brother, Stan’s nephew/son-kid thing, Emma-May’s grub son, Fiddleford’s grub son

I can just imagine the confusion on the other Pines faces as they try wrap their heads around how who’s related to who, and everything.

Someone at some point brings out a murder board/cork board to make sense of it all.

Alas, you're correct in that its very unlikly to happen, due to everyone in the situation agreeing 100% without discussion they are not going to explain their messed up family life to anyone outside it if at all possible. If the Pines get a headsup about incoming family visit, the McGuckets clear out for the duration and it goes very similarly to how it did in Cat Stan shorts.

Of course, if there's no notification about the visit its a different, more hilarious story of surprise Ma and Shermie Pines (with or without Fil) busting in, and everyone scrambling to create a story on why all these people live/ hang out in the house. Which would be fine if somewhat suspicious, except because its a surprise there was no time to come up with a cohesive story, so everyone's telling different and conflicting lies with 0 ideas of what everyone else is saying.

So Ford goes : Oh Stanley lives with me now, and so does my friend Fiddleford after he was met with some financial troubles with his family. They're working on moving out now that they're more stable, but its slow going :) (Normal, believable even. Ask no more questions and it can remain so)

Fiddleford goes: Oh my wife disappeared and Ford offered to put me and my son-sons! up while the search was going on. Now she's back and we're working on moving out. Where was she? uhhh- lost. Got lost in the woods and was surviving all on her lonesome before Stanley found her and drove her back home. Very kind of your son (Still normal, but the lack of ready answer on where Emma-May was draws suspicion along with Fiddleford calling Stan 'kind')

Emma-May goes: my husband moved in with your son due to not being able to support himself after i was kidnapped by the government. They wanted to steal my research, but thankfully i broke out and stumbled upon Stanley here. He drove me up here to disappear after the government chased us down, where i found my husband and your other son. (Started normal, ended weird. Kidnapped? by the government? Why did he come straight here and not go to your family's house first? No thought to find your husband first?)

Which are all very good and mesh well together (as long as you don't look too closely). But then Stan (who was missing, very noticeably losing his car in the process and therefore could not drive Emma-May anywhere, and there is no extra Stan vehicle to be found) goes

I kidnapped by the government for illegal experiments. Emma-May was the scientist responsible, but i charmed her with my roguish ways and we escaped. I didnt want to get anyone else involved, but Emma-May's husband is some kind of robot genius and she said he could help me disappear forever. It took ages of walking and relying on the kindess of strangers to drive us to California, but when we got to their house he was gone! Turns out he and Ford knew each other, and Fiddleford took the opportunity of his wife being missing to throw himself into Fords strong beefy nerd arms and start a whole new life together. We tracked them down here to their love nest, where Emma-May saw them canoodling and, heartbroken, threw herself into my, far more beefy and impressive arms. We're married now, but they're also trying to get it to work for the sake of their son. I guess you could say Fiddleford's my husband in law? Anywho, Ford got a kid with Fiddleford at somepoint, so thats where that other kid came from. Why's he look so much like ford? Uhh. Clone. Yup! you didnt hear this from me though.

Which is insane, except it also ties in the awkwardness of the other stories if this is some version of the truth that everyone else wants to hide. No one explains the racoon/cat thing. No one thinks to ask each other what the others said until after the visits over, and if at any point Ford was interrogated for details his story would devolve into some mess similar to Stan's, cementing that as the actual truth in the Pines minds. except for the fiddleford x ford romance Stan threw in for shits and giggles, but of course he wouldn't admit to get familiar with a married man.

[lorewarden]

How did Dedra and Syril get together? My theory:

I'm basing this scenario on the assumption that she's not simply using him and that the feelings are genuine. Considering the lengths the show has gone to in order to humanize Dedra, I do actually believe this to be the case, and I'll be focusing on her point of view here.

Now, let's rewind to the Ferrix riot for a moment. She has completely lost control of the situation, all hell is breaking loose around her, and then she finds herself with a blaster muzzle at her back and an unknown assailant commanding her to move. Dazed, in a trance, she follows his instructions until they're indoors, where the adrenaline kicks in - she grabs the nearest weapon she can find, to fight off the threat or die in the attempt. Then she recognizes him, a few words are exchanged... Her assailant is, in fact, a rescuer. She's shaking from head to toe, looking at Syril up and down, trying to rapidly process the last few minutes.

"I should..." She doesn't know how to finish that sentence, between sheer terror, outrage, and gratitude. "I should say thank you." When has she ever been rescued, after all? So, as distressed as she is by the fact that she needed rescuing in the first place - that she allowed things to get so far out of hand - Syril is the most important person in her world at that particular moment.

Once they're both back on Coruscant, there's undoubtedly an investigation going on. Syril himself would have likely been questioned. And Dedra herself would have been put on ice for a few weeks, if not months. She is humiliated, wondering if her career will ever recover from the incident, and, with nothing better to do, she would likely spend the days pacing her apartment, puzzling out what precisely had gone wrong, committing every single detail to memory. During this time, Syril reaches out to inquire about her well-being... And she is NOT happy about it. She doesn't like to be reminded of her vulnerability. She would agree to meet him for drinks - to determine if he's gonna blab about it, she tells herself - but there is a lingering sense of gratitude there. On some level, she might feel compelled to indulge him as a thank you for saving her.

They might end up awkwardly bonding over their respective career-breaking mistakes on Ferrix. Partagaz had once mentioned that "Dedra came from enforcement" - was she a cop prior to joining the ISB? And with Syril having been a corporate cop on Morlana, I can definitely see this coming up. Despite appearances, Syril is rather observant and analytical, and Dedra would notice these qualities in their conversation.

Having all but established that Dedra does not have a social life - I can hardly see her spending any time with Heert outside of work, let alone with anyone else - she might discover that having some company isn't all that unpleasant. So she and Syril keep meeting, form a sort of friendship.

Now, we don't know exactly how long Dedra might've been on ice, but it's clear that by the time s2 rolls around that her career is fully back on track. Once back in ISB HQ, it would've taken Dedra a bit of time to regain her confidence, especially considering she's surrounded by colleagues oh-so-eager to see her humiliated. During this, Syril would likely be trying to encourage her in his own clumsy way. Dedra would be making a show of not needing his (or anyone's) validation, but she does hear his words and is appreciative of the support. Syril is smart enough to see through it and he probably knows her well enough by this point. As well as anyone could claim to know Dedra, at any rate.

At this point, Dedra feels some manner of affection for him. Assuming she'd had few to no romantic relationships - or friendships - she has no point of reference for the nature of her feelings for Syril. She would have no idea how to label them.

Syril, on the other hand, knows full well that he's in love with Dedra. It is likely that for the first few months of their friendship, he would simply be grateful for her attention and company, so he probably wouldn't be pushing her towards romance too overtly... But all the signs would be there.

Until he finally does make The Move, and Dedra chooses to accept his love... After all, he's the only one who's ever stuck his neck out for her, who's stood by her... and it does make sense with all the time they're spending together and this intimacy they've found, doesn't it? She might not know how to label it, but he does, so... Why not give in? Why should she be alone?

That's my interpretation of what went on during the time skip between seasons - a part of the time skip, at least. I have more thoughts, of course, but this is long enough as it is. I'm probably going to write a separate post on what can be inferred from their interactions in season 2 so far (that being episodes 1-6).

[legendofmorons]

Knight in bloody armor chapter one

Pairing: Dark Link x reader

Rating: T

Summary: You wake up in a carriage with the Heroes Bane as company, and he has plans for you. They just aren't the plans you were expecting...

Warnings: kidnapping, fear

Other: The is the most Polite kidnapping I've ever written? Reader's family sucks. If I missed anything, please let me know.

Masterlist Next

-------

Life for you isn't too great. Other people definitely have it worse, but between your shitty family, not great neighbors, and the rumors you find yourself longing for a new start. Most probably would, if you're honest.

That's probably why when you wake up in a carriage all alone with the Hero's Bane across from you, your reaction is to just blink a few times. Maybe you're imagining things.

The last thing you remember is that you were going to sleep after a long day of work at your family's shop...

How did you get here?

"You're awake," the man across from you says.

His voice is like dark chocolate, rich and deep, and perhaps an acquired taste.

His eyes are pools of red.

His skin is grey, and his hair is off-white.

This is immediately a horrifying experience.

No one has met him up close and lived to tell the tale! You don't want to die, certainly not like this.

You glance around, trying to make sense of this.

You are alone in this carriage with the exception of the Hero's counterpart...

Dark wood and metal make up the carriage. Deep reds make the curtains and upholstery for the benches. It's a nice carriage.

"Where am I?" You ask, hoping that if this is your end that it will be quick.

"Is that truly what you wish to ask? Have you no fear?" The man asks with a dark amusement that sends spides down your spine.

You swallow hard.

There is absolutely fear!

You did not put yourself in this carriage.

You do not know this man, and frankly, the stories of the man are terrifying. Every whisper or warning you know about this being are pure nightmare fuel.

"Of course I do," you admit.

He snorts at that, gaze flicking over you.

"Why am I here?" You ask.

That is a better question any how.

The man considers you as if he hasn't quite decided why you are here himself. Then he gives a lazy smirk. "You are going to help me. I am in need of someone to guard. This is a step towards truly beating that hero."

"Oh," you manage weakly.

That's- not what you were expecting.

You don't particularly want to defeat Sir Link. After all, you aren't a fan of Ganon... but you doubt that the man before you is asking.

"I shall gaurd you," the man says. "I assure you that I will do a much better job than that blasted hero."

You swallow hard, trying to puzzle out why exactly this is his plan.

Also, why are you the one he is using for this?

Well, you suppose there is one last question to ask. After all, it looks like you are going to be around this man for a while whether you enjoy it or not...

"What should I call you?" You ask.

The man raises one brow, "Excuse me?"

"What do you want me to call you? I... haven't heard anyone say your name."

He stares at you, silent as he seems to size you up. He tilts his head just a little to the left.

"What do they call me then?"

"Hero's Bane, Dark Link, sometimes... Sometimes other things," You explain.

"Elaborate," he all but demands.

"They - they call you monster, a demon, evil incarnate..."

He gives a sharp smile, "They flatter me."

You... suppose that if the man wishes to he seen as such that would flatter him.

The man leans back as his gaze flicks across your face. He tilts his head before he gives a smile that's closer to baring his teeth than anything else, seeming to come to a decision. "You may call me Dark."

That seems like a fitting name.

"Okay," you breathe out before introducing yourself.

Dark snorts at you again, "I know your name."

"Oh. Right... sorry."

"Don't waste my time with apologies," He dismisses in an almost hostile tone.

"Okay."

You don't know what's going on. There's a distinct sense of danger. There's alarm bells screaming on your head...

But you are having a failry civil conversation with Dark, and you aren't tied up or anything.

You have no doubt that I'd you tried to run, even if you got away it wouldn't matter. He would stop you or find you. Better his fighting prowess and magic. You couldn't escape.

Not really.

You won't waste time or risk is wrath by trying.

You take a slow breath, trying to slow your heart and your mind.

Dark watches you silently. His presence seems to loom and press against you like invisible shadows. His eyes are pools of red and entirely unnerving.

"You were disturbingly easy to take," he informs you after a moment.

You nod, unable to say you feel any surprise. Of course you were easy to take, your family dosen’t care and you aren't well off.

"You are not surprised," Dark acknowledges.

"Not really."

Dark tilts his head, "You will not be taken so easily under my watch."

Well, this man officially cares more than your family. That's weird and maybe concerning.

"I believe you," you say.

You do believe him. How could you not?

Dark is many things, but he is always a man of his word to your knowledge. When he promises to burn a village to the ground, nothing is left but ashes on the ground.

When he swore he would not stop waging war on the hero, he has yet to cease his attempts...

Though, if someone told you even ten minutes ago that Dark would be more invested in you than anyone else except your best friend, you would have laughed at them.

You aren't special, you aren't strong, and you aren't aligned with the so-called evil side.

"You would do well to make a habit of believing me," Dark says with something like pride.

"Okay."

He just watches you, silent yet again.

"You aren't trying to escape." Dark says as he tilts his head.

You give a slight shrug, "I wouldn't succeed."

"No. But you aren't even trying. Why?"

You give a bitter smile to the wall. "There's not a whole lot to go back to, but I'm not stupid. Even if I got away, it would be temporary, you're faster than me, stronger, and your magic could probably track me anywhere."

Dark gives a smile, vicious and prideful and more attractive than you should acknowledge since he is still kidnapping you. His canines are longer and sharper than they should be, glinting in the light almost

"I'm glad someone knows I'm capeable." He says, though he sounds a little strange, voice straining slightly.

"If you weren't, the hero would have defeated you by now." You mutter before you can catch your mouth.

Your eyes widen, realization that your mouth ran away from you dawns too late.

Dark laughs, low and rumbling like thunder. It sends a shiver down your spine.

Everyone says the man before you only laughs when he destroys.

Great....

"I'm sorry!" You say immediately.

He laughs more, and your apology seems to strike his humor.

"I think I chose the right person to use while I destroy Link," Dark muses.

Well, that sounds like you aren't on the chopping block for now. So, that's a better reaction than you thought you might gain.

He falls silent again, and you lean against the wall of the carriage, curling up a little.

You watch the scenery as it passes, lots of green and trees, but nothing particularly interesting outside of that.

Dark watches you, but you can't say you expect different.

This is still a kidnapping. It's just a... strange one.

But he hasn't yelled yet, which is already better than home.

That's actually really depressing.

-------

Dark watches you as you watch the world outside blur by. He dosen’t have a clue of what to make of you.

Oh, sure, he knows about you, but only enough to have chosen you as easy to steal away.

He knows your allergies, your measurements, and your health information, thanks to some sneaking around.

Dark knows that your family is nothing special. He knows that you are the eldest of your family and that you are rarely seen in public outside your job.

He knows you only really speak to one person outside your family if given the choice.

He knows that your room was oddly easy to get into.

Dark knows you are a creature of light.

That is where his knowledge stops.

He expected you to scream when you saw him, to watch you plead to be let free like so many would and have.

He did not expect you to ask where you were before you try your hand at escaping.

You haven't tried to escaping at all.

You willingly admit that you would fail miserably at escape! You're right, of course, but Hylians are dumb.

You say you have little to go home to. He knows that, but you say it in a way that implies feelings he doesn't understand or care to ask about.

Dark... will admit you are the first being to ask his name at all. That is a first and a strange one.

He has only been assigned names, never asked. He finds himself giving you an answer he has never thought to give.

Dark tells you his name, the one he calls himself in his mind.

He thinks he likes that you asked.

He likes that you see him as capeable.

Dark rather likes you as much as he likes any hylian because you have made his plan much easier by not fighting.

You are even a little interesting, which is a plus since he is going to be spending lots of time around you.

Even your fear is interesting. You certainly feel it. You eye him wearily, of course, yet you have a resignment to it.

Are you... familliar with fear?

How strange.

Dark dosen’t understand you.

He doesn't understand Hylians well either, but you don't seem like the others...

You haven't cursed him.

You haven't cried or begged for your life.

You haven't run.

No... instead, you've asked his name and what he wants...

Dark supposes there are much worse choices.

He watches you, silent as he tries to work you out. Reviewing what he knows.

You are a salesperson at the pawn shop your family runs, the eldest of your siblings, and an outcast for the most part...

You seem to have a soft spot for animals. He's seen you toss them snacks when no one else is looking...

You aren't particularly strong. You are no fighter.

Yet you don't scream either...

-------

The castle you arrive at is old and dark with the plants trying to reclaim the stone structure. It has the base of a beautiful castle, but any gardens are bare or full of dying weeds, and several of the areas are crumbling.

It's beautiful, in a Gothic 'being reclaimed by nature' way.

"Pretty," you breathe out.

"Is it?" Dark asks as he raises one brow.

You turn your gaze to him and offer a weak smile, watching his eyes narrow.

"It is..."

"You are a strange hylian." Dark informs you with a raise of his brow.

You frown. "I'm sorry?"

"Don't be. Come along, I'll show you your room." Dark says, opening the carriage and then exiting it.

You follow him out, trying not to get too close or to look like you are running.

Dark points you forward and directs you through the castle and grounds in front of him with short commands.

You're given the tour of the main areas. The kitchen, the main sitting room, your room, the bathroom, and the library.

"There are enchantments, I will always know when you leave an area. Don't bother trying to escape."

"Okay."

Dark gives you another strange look. The man - entitiy? - seems to be searching you for something.

You turn towards the kitchen, stomach churning. "Can I make dinner?"

"If you like."

You go to the kitchen and start searching for ingredients and tools to make something easy.

Making dinner is easier than you expect, though you feel his gaze burn unto your hands when you cut up vegetables.

You don't blame him for it either. You've heard too many people run off at the mouth about fighting the man.

How many drunks swear they could fight Dark Link?

How many young men swear they have the courage to face this demon before you?

You try to make peace with the sharp vigilance. Regardless of his moral beliefs of crimes, he probably faces attempts on his life frequently.

By the time you finish dinner, you're about sick of his borderline stifling silence.

Finding the plates isn't too difficult, but when you pull two down, Dark finally speaks again.

"What do you need two plates for?" Dark asks.

You turn to look at him, and you wonder if he's joking. "Aren't you hungry?"

"Excuse me?" Dark asks you with a dark tone you can't place.

"I mean, you watched me make the whole meal so you know I couldn't have done anything to it. I wouldn't do anything to it anyway, but I'm sure you're vigilant. Do you not eat something in the food?" You frown, silently retracing your recipe to see what you might have done wrong.

Dark raises one brow, "You mean to tell me you made dinner for both of us?"

"Yes?"

He frowns, falling silent for a moment. "You wish me to eat?"

"If you're hungry."

Dark looks you over, once again seeming to search for something you can not place. His gaze is heavy and cold.

It takes everything you have and every bad interaction you've had to not flinch.

"You would feed me?" He asks.

"Yes? It's incredibly rude to cook only for myself if you're right here?" You manage with great confusion, eyes flicking across his form.

Dark gives a single snort, "I will take your word for it. Very well, as your knight, I do not wish a torturous relationship."

"I - knight?" You echo.

He nods, "Yes. You are to be the noble I protect. I will prove to that failure of a hero that I am superior in every way, starting with being a knight to a nobleI choose."

"Oh. Okay..."

"You will be safe as long as you don't do anything foolish."

You nod, swallows down the lump in your throat. "Okay."

Silently, you plate dinner and then pass a plate to him. Your hands shake bur more from nerves than anytime.

What are you supposed to do with this new information?

Dark takes his first bite of food, makes a short hum, and them swallows. He turns to you, gaze heavy.

"Dinner is good." He informs you.

"Good," you manage weakly.

"You are the strangest hylian I have ever met," Dark says.

That's it. He's silent the rest of the meal and day.

You retire to your room and find an entire wardrobe filled with rather nice clothes that are just your size.

"What the fuck?" You whisper to yourself.

It seems like a great question, but there is no answer in sight.

-------

Next-Wip

Taglist: @gothroughthelookingglass @sleepifonlyigoti @chinosscratchingpost @captaincreative @justanotherweeb666 @samudera09 @grimmchrono

[inawickedlittletown]

Dog Days (BuckTommy) - 4/4

Summary: While on a call Buck and Hen get turned into dogs.

Words: 3.1k

Read on Ao3

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

-

Part Four

“Oh, Buck,” Karen said as soon as Tommy had left, “what have you gotten yourself into.” 

Just like Hen’s black labrador looked and felt like Hen, she thought that Buck’s mixed dog made a lot of sense for him. She thought he could have passed for a goldendoodle except that he was bigger than any she had ever seen which could have just been a Buck thing and not a dog thing. He did have insanely long legs as a human. 

Hen made a sound that equated to her doggy laugh. 

“Well, you don’t have to pretend to be a dog with me,” Karen said. “The kids have no clue, though.” 

The weird thing about the whole thing was how much she both missed and didn’t miss Hen. Hen was right there and she wasn’t out there running into fires or other dangers. She was at home with Karen even if she was on four legs and couldn’t talk or do any other human things. The whole thing was odd. 

Having Buck around didn’t change much, and Karen couldn’t tell if the two of them could communicate or not via barks. It was fun to watch them get into some sort of play which was actually more fighting if anything. When the kids got home, they seemed thrilled to have not just one dog, but two to play with. Buck was almost as happy as the kids. 

Karen was sure Buck would be a very tired dog by the time that Tommy showed up to pick him up. Watching them, Karen did wonder if Tommy had any suspicions. Dog Buck was very like human Buck except this one had an actual tail to wag. Then there was the birthmark. How could anyone not notice that and connect the two? 

Of course, you’d have to be crazy to connect the two because most days people were not being turned into dogs by random witches that worked out of a strip mall. So, unless that was something you expected to happen, there really was no reason to expect it. 

That night, as she was getting ready for bed, she got a call from Tommy. 

“Hi,” Tommy said, sounding almost nervous. “Just wanted to check in. How’s Buddy doing?” 

“He’s passed out on Denny’s bed right now,” Karen said. 

It was actually cute how he had his head on Denny’s pillow with him, their backs pressed together. She had taken several pictures. 

“I’ll send you a picture,” Karen said. 

“Good. Good,” Tommy said. 

“You really care about him, don’t you?” 

“Yeah,” Tommy said. “It’s the hardest thing, trying not to care.” 

Karen scoffed. “No, honey, that’s not a bad thing. Caring is important, it makes you human. You caring for this dog you’ve had for two days is good. But you aren’t just talking about Buddy, right?” 

Tommy was silent for a moment. “I…I mean—”

Karen hadn’t known she was going to go there, but she thought that someone needed to say something to Tommy so that when Buddy did turn back into Buck things might go well. 

“It’s none of my business, but you’re not the only one that probably feels like they messed up. But I also know you two were really happy and that for the rest of us the break up came out of nowhere. Hit him pretty hard. I think I still have walnut loaves in my freezer which says a lot.” 

“I just don’t think he feels the same way.” 

“You don’t really believe that do you? He adores you.”

Tommy laughed. “How many people come out and stay in their first queer relationship? This can’t be it for him.” 

“Except that maybe that’s his choice to make,” Karen said. 

Tommy sighed and Karen didn’t get to say anything else because Tommy was being called out and Karen knew that sound way too well. 

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Karen said. “Be safe out there.” 

“Thanks. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

—

Tommy was excited to see Buddy when he got off shift. He’d missed the dog far more than he expected. His thoughts had also sort of stayed on Evan after the conversation he had with Karen. Maybe, it was possible that he and Evan still had things to talk about and clear up and yet…and yet, Tommy was more than a little cautious about how that might go. His heart was already too fragile to allow himself to truly hope. 

“Wait, did you and Buckley rekindle the flame?” Lucy asked when she noticed that Tommy was rushing a bit to grab his things. 

“No.” 

“Then why are you so ready to take off? Wait…do not tell me you started seeing someone else?”

“I’m fostering a dog,” Tommy said. “I have to pick him up from the dog sitter.” 

“And the dog sitter is Buck?” 

Tommy rolled his eyes. “None of this has anything to do with Buck. I gotta go.” 

Of course, the thing was that Buddy had sort of helped him deal with the fresh round of missing Evan, but he wasn’t going to admit that to Lucy. 

When he arrived at the Wilson residence, the door was opened after one knock by Denny.

“Hi, Tommy,” Denny said and let him. 

The dogs were with Karen and Mara in the kitchen. Both were weirdly well behaved. It had been highly unusual behavior in one dog and definitely worse in two. 

“Where’s Hen?” Tommy asked. 

The chocolate lab barked. 

“At work,” Karen said. 

Buddy barked and rushed towards Tommy, wiggling his tail and taking a turn around Tommy and rubbing himself against his legs. It was going to be so hard to give him up. Tommy might wind up at the nearest dog rescue almost as soon as Buddy went back to his family. 

“How was he?” 

“Great,” Karen said with a chuckle. “Although I think Bu — Buddy missed you.” 

“Did he get in a fight?” Mara asked, pointing at Buddy’s eye. “He has a scar.” 

“Ah…I have no idea. I mean, I think so.” 

“Or, it could be a birthmark,” Denny said. “You know like Buck has.” 

Buddy was looking up at Tommy. His eyes were so blue and so very familiar. The scar or birthmark, it was shaped in a familiar way too. 

“It’s weird,” he said. “It’s just in the same place as Evan has it and their eyes are the same color.” 

Karen coughed. “Weird,” she said. Her voice sounded strange. 

The chocolate lab barked. Buddy barked. 

“Anyway, I’ll get out of your hair. Thank you for watching him, Karen.” 

The kids each hugged Buddy and for some reason decided to hug Tommy too and Karen pet Buddy and placed her hand on Tommy’s arm when they reached the door. 

“What I said on the phone before…don’t give up on Buck just yet.” 

He didn’t want to. He wanted to be back together with Evan more than anything, but with the way things had gone last time he just didn’t know if he and Evan could get on the same page. Maybe, but probably not. What Tommy was sure of, was that there would never be anyone like Evan for him again. 

Tommy didn’t bother clipping the leash on and Buddy followed him to the car. 

“Work was kinda slow,” he informed Buddy. “I’m sure you had way more fun than I did.” 

Buddy barked in response. 

When they got back to the house, Buddy seemed happy to get inside. He went ahead of Tommy and straight to the couch where he spread himself out. 

“Oh, is that how it is?” Tommy asked. 

Buddy rolled over to look at him. Tommy couldn’t stop thinking about how much his eyes reminded him of Evan. Maybe he could have put it off if it wasn’t for the mark over his eye. There was even something about the way the curls atop his head fell. It was a stupid thought…he was just seeing things. He wanted Evan and he was just seeing him in the dog, that was all. 

Except that, just as he was about to turn away from Buddy, something seemed to happen. Buddy shuddered and tumbled off the couch, shaking. Tommy rushed towards him as he went completely still. 

“Hey, hey, are you okay? Damn it, of course you’re not.” 

Tommy reached towards him, but before he could make contact, Buddy was surrounded by blinding light and Tommy had to close his eyes. He opened them slowly a second later and gasped. 

Evan lay where Buddy had. He was entirely naked, the dog collar barely hanging onto his neck from a rip in the fabric. At first he lay still and Tommy was too shocked to move. Buddy had been right there and now Evan was. Evan turned onto his back, displaying his chest complete with his dark tattoos and the neatly kept chest hair. The happy trail that went down to…Tommy averted his eyes, finding Evan’s face instead. 

Evan blinked at Tommy. 

“Uh, hi,” Evan said and winced.

“What the hell,” Tommy said. “Buddy was…and you…what the fuck, Evan?” 

Tommy turned and grabbed the throw blanket from the back of the couch and threw it at Evan even though he had seen and spent a lot of time mapping out all of Evan’s glorious body plenty of times. 

“Thanks,” Evan said, followed by, “I am so sorry.” 

“You were the dog,” Tommy said. 

“I was the dog,” Evan said and he sat up first and then stood, wrapping the blanket around his lower half which still left his chest on display and Tommy could admit to it being a bit distracting. 

“How?” Tommy asked. 

He tried to think back to the past few days. He’d told Buddy so many things, just rambled at him knowing that the information wouldn’t matter to the dog and that even if it did, it wouldn’t be repeated to anyone. Buddy had been his companion. His friend. Tommy had gone out into the backyard and picked up his poop. But it was Evan. Buddy was Evan. 

“There was a witch,” Evan said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Threw something at me and Hen and then…well, we got turned into dogs.”

Tommy had no words. Evan had been living with him for days as a dog. Tommy had bonded with him and been getting ready for the emotional upheaval that he’d go through once he had to give him back and meanwhile all along it was Evan. His ex-boyfriend who Tommy…god, he had told the dog that he loved Evan, hadn’t he? He hadn’t even told Evan that, but he’d told the dog. 

Tommy walked away. He ran his hands through his hair and he heard Evan’s bare feet on the hardwood floor following him towards the kitchen. 

“I didn’t ask Chim to bring me to you. I didn’t really have much choice in any of this either. But…but I kinda loved it, okay?”

“Oh, you did, did you?” Tommy asked, whirling around. 

He felt betrayed and taken advantage of. He felt like…like he’d been lied to and then he’d been stupid and spilled his heart out to someone that didn’t love him back. 

“Look,” Evan said, “we can do this with me in a blanket or I can borrow some clothes and we can really talk about it.”

When Tommy didn’t respond, Evan shuffled his feet. 

“Or…or I guess I could just go. But I still need to borrow clothes and maybe your phone. No idea where mine is.” 

“No. Stay,” Tommy said. He couldn’t face the idea of Evan leaving. 

 “Good. I’ll be back.” 

It gave him a few minutes to think about things and maybe cool off a bit. He gave Evan a nod.

Tommy thought about calling Chim. He thought about calling Karen. Had Karen known? That irritated him because she probably did. Chim definitely had, though, and he had been the one to ask him to watch Buddy without all the information. 

He texted Chim. 

Tommy: You should have told me. WTF. 

When his phone buzzed and buzzed, he ignored it. He’d deal with Chim later. 

-

Buck was kinda freaking out a little. He just hadn’t expected to turn back right then and there like nothing had happened. Not that he was sure how he’d wanted to change back or that he wasn’t happy to have his real body back. He took the collar off and dropped it on Tommy’s bedside table and even though a part of him wanted to take a shower and really clean off all the time he’d spent as a dog, he instead went into Tommy’s drawers and pulled out a t-shirt and then grabbed sweatpants that were actually his and that Tommy had kept. 

He took a couple of breaths before he returned to the living room and yes, maybe he did sniff Tommy’s t-shirt. Tommy was sitting, head in hands. He looked worse than Buck had ever seen him in all the time he’d known him. Any trepidation going into this left and all he wanted was to wrap his arms around Tommy and hold him.

“Should have known,” Tommy said. “I should have known.” 

“You should have known what?” Buck asked. 

Tommy took a moment before answering.

“That your birthmark wasn’t a coincidence,” Tommy said, looking up at him. “That something like this would happen to you. First the boils and now this, it’s like you’re some magnet for weird stuff.” 

“I’m not saying I’m not,” Buck said. “And I’m…I’m sorry you thought I was a real dog.” 

“People don’t just go around being transformed into dogs.” 

“That you know of,” Buck said. 

“Evan,” Tommy said with a groan. “What the fuck! I was talking to a dog…I was…”

Buck crossed the room to Tommy, dropping to his knees in front of him and reaching for his face, cradling it between his palms.

“Hey, hey, there’s so much I wanted to say back when you were telling me all that stuff. But I couldn’t. I was a dog and couldn’t talk. I should have called after that night. I wanted to so badly but I was…I didn’t want to do this for the wrong reasons. I didn’t want to call you because I was lonely and missing my best friend especially when you thought I could have feelings for him. Which…no, Tommy, never. I could never, not when I am so in love with you.” 

Tommy gasped. “You’re what?” 

“I love you, you idiot,” Buck said. “Do you know how much it sucked every time you said I didn’t have feelings for you? How you really believed that and yeah, it was my fault, but you left. You left that morning instead of letting me explain and I…I should have called. But I love you and I’m pretty sure that witch turned me into a dog because she could tell I was wholly miserable without you. So if you don’t want any witch or mummy to mess with me, then you’ll just have to be with me. Alright?” 

Tommy, whose face was still in Buck’s hands, nodded. 

So, Buck kissed him. It was familiar and wonderful and it was just as Buck had remembered it, if not better. Tommy kissed him back, grasped at his shoulders and brought him closer and then pushed him back just as quickly. 

“What’s—” 

“Evan, you were a dog.” 

“Yeah, I’m aware. It was really weird.”

Tommy wrapped his arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. “I’m so glad you’re not a dog.” 

“Me too.” 

“And I love you too, Evan.” 

When he was a dog and Tommy told him that he still loved him, Buck had felt sad and desperate to be able to do anything so that Tommy could know the feelings were reciprocated. Hearing it directed at him, it made him feel secure. It made him feel like nothing else mattered. Tommy loved him. He could have floated away and gone happily. 

Tommy kissed him and Buck focused on the feel of his lips, the sweep of Tommy’s tongue in his mouth and how he wanted Tommy to be the only person that he kissed probably forever. 

-

They could only ignore Tommy’s phone for so long. 

“Howie,” Tommy said. 

Evan was still sort of perched on his lap, his arms around Tommy’s neck and his hands in his hair. 

“We should check in with Karen too. See how Hen is doing,” Evan said. 

“How did this happen again?” 

Evan told him about the fire and the old woman that lured him and Hen into her store. How she didn’t speak a word of English but then turned both him and Hen into dogs. 

“I think she meant it for me. Hen just got in the way. And wait, so you did believe Billy Boils cursed me.” 

Tommy just sighed. Magic and curses…he was still more than a little skeptical, but he’d seen Buddy transform into Evan right before his eyes. He couldn’t deny that it had happened and he also couldn’t deny that Evan’s boils had disappeared by the morning after Billy’s funeral. 

“I think most people don’t encounter things like this as often as you do,” Tommy said. 

“Did I ever tell you about the time a ghost called 9-1-1?” 

“Evan,” Tommy groaned. 

“Okay, I’ll tell you some other time.”

Evan smiled and nodded. Tommy’s phone vibrated again and he finally picked up. It wasn’t Howie, though, but Karen. 

“Hey,” Tommy said. “How’s Hen doing?” 

“Gave me a bit of a shock, but she’s good. I take it Buck is back to normal too?” 

Tommy couldn’t even be mad at Karen, not when her wife had been turned into a dog and not when she wasn’t the one to bring Evan over and not tell him that it wasn’t just a dog he’d be looking after. 

“He is,” Tommy said. 

“I’m sorry we didn’t tell you,” Karen said. “I hope things weren’t too awkward.” 

“No…I guess it did turn out to be a good thing. You, uh, you weren’t wrong.” 

He glanced over at Evan, who was watching him right back. 

“Good. Good. I’ll let you go.” 

“Can you also tell Howie to stop calling.”

Karen laughed. “Sure.” 

“That takes care of that,” Evan said, inching closer. “I know we have a lot to talk about, but I’m just really happy to be here with you.” 

“Oh?” 

“I missed you so damn much, Tommy.” 

“Me too, Evan. Me too.” 

Evan smiled at him. He looked beautiful, eyes glinting and happy. 

“You know, when we do move in together, I think we should get a dog,” Evan said. 

“We’re not naming him Buddy.” 

Evan laughed until Tommy kissed him into silence.

[munchkin1156]

Hermit-A-Day-May

Day one- Impulse!!! (Let’s see if I can keep this up)

Thank you to @hermitadaymay for running this!! This is my first time joining :D

Will be posted on ao3 later

Tws: Mentions of death, ghosts, graveyard (he’s sitting on the edge of a graveyard.)

Word count: 891

Enjoy!

. . .

The graveyard was silent during the dark hours.

Mist hung in the air, hanging small dewdrops on blades of grass and the threads in a spider web that had been made inside a large split in the wooden gate. It was an abandoned place, and the stone walls had crumbled more every year that went by without care.

The gravestones were crumbling too, though slower, and they had spells on them to protect them from the passage of time. Vines climbed them, their leaves and flowers covering the names of the forgotten. No vengeful ghosts were here, haunting the graveyard, and making it treacherous for anyone who dared come past. This was what graveyards were meant to be. A place of peace. A place of rest.

Impulse came here often, to think. The lights that hung off his ears, tails and horns always chimed when he got near. He could never work out why, but he didn't spend a lot of time worrying about that. There were more important things to think of. He sat on the edge of the wall, facing away from the resting place, if only to look out at the trees.

They were tall, looming far above him. Their wood was old, creased with the details of hundreds of years. Some people were afraid of them, or what might be between them. Impulse was fairly certain that's why they'd been planted. To keep the wakefulness of the living from disturbing the sleeping dead. He was quiet, and he didn't try to ruin anything, so whatever spirit was guarding these parts let him stay.

He breathed in deep, taking in the cool air. Though the summer days were hot, the nights remained crystal cold here. It was one of the things he loved about it. Demons, or whatever sort of demon descendant Impulse was, preferred the frigid temperatures the dark brought. Something to do with the sun. The sun never hid anything. Everything could be seen under the sun's light.

By moonlight, things could stay hidden. At dusk, with only the moon and his spirit lanterns, Impulse could lie and cheat and swindle, with the most beautiful enchantments, whole worlds built up out of whatever he spoke, knowing he could slip back under the safety of the stillness and the mist.

Perhaps that was an odd way to think about it. But Impulse was a demon descendant. He didn't have another option of thinking available. But sometimes he tried, and that's when he found himself taking the rundown path to the graveyard. The dead knew so much now that they were resting, and when he sat there, on the threshold, he found thoughts in his head that weren't his, yet guided him more than he himself ever could. And in return, he kept the graveyard from falling apart completely.

He didn't remove the vines, but he made sure the names weren't scratched out if one were to look. He kept the spell on the stones strong. He lit the lanterns during storms. And he put flowers on the graves who's names were not there. Impulse knew about being forgotten. And he made it his job, his obligation, his pleasure to care for the ones that had been for centuries.

You might call that kindness. Or you might call it common sense. Impulse didn't mind, whatever people called it. It was the doing it that mattered. As long as he kept doing it, it kept mattering. Maybe one day, someone else would do it too. Who knows? People might learn. But you couldn't rely on it. And you certainly couldn't hope someone else might do it instead. You had to make it your own wish, when you couldn't put that trust in others.

Impulse sighed. The graveyard didn't need anything from him tonight. Besides, all that thinking had been his own. He had no need to give back now. It was a perfect night, and through the mist, the moon bathed everything in silver. He slipped down from the wall, and began making his way back, to the village, the tinkling lights guiding his way. His boots crunched in the wet grass, the only sound for miles to come. A soft humming filled the air as he walked. Every few minutes, he'd stop, and light one of the lanterns that hung, near brokenly, along the way. It wasn't necessarily for the dead. Impulse knew it helped for them to find a proper resting place, one with real magic that would guide them, which wasn't always the one they were buried in. The lights did help with that.

But some part of him had lit the lights, just in case there was a traveler who followed them. The fact remained that you couldn't trust other people to do the same thing you do, and care in the same way you have. You still had to keep doing it yourself, and Impulse knew that, from years of his life gone by, better than anyone.

He knew all of it. And he wasn't hoping for someone else to give back what he took. That was his bargain, and his alone. Still, it would be wonderful, for him and those resting, if the place they rested could be found again.

People didn't like to be forgotten. And Impulse made sure they wouldn't be.

. . .

Taglist: @i-am-beckyu, @da3dm, @faeiyn-cant-write, @boiled-ginger-ale, @local-squshmallow, @akatthatwants2sleep, @vocal-nyx-cords

Taglist just for fics: @mushr00mgurl

I hope you enjoyed, and I’ll probably see you tomorrow for the next day of may!

oh god we’re back with the horrors now…