#it's really not as easy as it looks to be subtle and artful about such things

[starrysharks]

hotel manager

[13eyond13]

As much as I roast Beyond Birthday for his lack of subtlety I also kin him for it. Because in art school we were sometimes required to incorporate deep symbolism into our art pieces, and I was always doing things like drawing a dude holding a compass and wearing goggles to represent that he's feeling directionless about his worldview

[lazi4ss]

That's Not My Milkman

masterlist

Warning: slight gore but not that detailed, doppleganger Francis

Gender neutral reader

(NOT MY ART, I FORGOT WHOS TIKTOK THIS IS FROM BUT CREDITS TO YOU!)

"So... Is everything in check?"

A tired voice mumbled out as your eyes trailed up from the ID and entry request in your hands to the source of the sound. Tired hazel eyes stared back at you as Francis rubbed the back of his neck.

You felt bad, here you were double and triple-checking everything while the exhausted and probably underpaid milkman was there standing and waiting to be let in. But it's for everyone's safety so don't feel too bad. You gave a small smile as you handed back his paperworks. Everything seems to check out and you were going to let him in but... what's that on his uniform sleeve?

You squinted your eyes as you scanned the cuff of his right sleeve. His gaze travelled to where you were looking and with a shrug of his shoulders he lifted his hand to give you a clear view. And it is in fact blood, and by the looks of it, quite fresh too. How come you didn't notice it before?

You raised an eyebrow, one hand slowly inching closer to the danger button as you tried to be subtle and casual about it. Because what the heck? He was confident enough to show you something so suspicious without batting an eye.

"Sooo... Uhm. Anything you want to share?"

You casually asked, yet nervousness was laced in your tone. He sighed, keeping his composed and nonchalant act as put his hand down, burying it in his pocket as he dragged his free hand on his face. If he's a doppelganger then he's really going the extra mile to act or seem believable.

"Mmm. I know you're on edge."

He mumbled, gaze traveling from your hand that was ready to press the danger button to your face. Staring a little too long as he examined your features. You got a very pretty face yet it was filled with mistrust. Shame. Catching himself, he quietly scoffed under his breath. Good job Francis, already had the doorperson suspicious of you.

"But this is not what it looks like. I injured my hand earlier with a broken glass, blood must've gotten on my uniform accidentally."

He finished, not breaking the staring contest you two have started. You don't quite seem to believe that story, but it was plausible. There was a tense silence for a while before you broke it.

"Show me your wound."

You requested and again, another tense silence. He didn't look like he was going to comply. Just you and him staring down at each other. No one backing down and tearing their eyes away.

"... Fuck."

He quietly hissed and that was enough confirmation for you. You pressed the button immediately, grabbing the phone as you dialed the D.D.D. A familiar voice on the other end confirms and tells you that agents are on their way.

You sighed in relief, although that didn't last long as you heard banging on the glass pane separating you and the doppelganger. Thank God those were strong enough to withhold the assaults. You should've been shaking in your seat right now, and you were albeit not so intense, but it was the first time you came across the quiet and aloof milkman's doppel.

Hell, it was the first time you even saw Francis up front, not just out of the picture in the folder provided for your job. Out of curiosity, you raised the metal shutters to take a peek at it. And what greeted you was a snarling, red-eyed Francis. His features twisted in rage as he banged on the glass repeatedly.

"Let me in, Y/n!"

He growled, to which you shut the metal blinds again on his face in response as you heard the agents barge in. You thought it would be like last time, after a while they would let you know that the cleanup was successful and that they would be on their way back. Easy peasy, right? Oh how wrong you were. Turns out, this one was putting up quite a fight.

You could hear shouting, a lot of screaming, and the sound of something sharp slashing at flesh. Wet sounds of people gurgling in what you presumed to be their own blood... That was disturbing. You were almost too scared to pull up the shutters to see what was going on. But suddenly the noises stopped. Did they catch him? Was it finally over?

With shaking hands, you pressed the danger button off. The blinds slowly ascended and holy shit, the sight was like something out of a nightmare. It was straight up a blood bath. The agents' bodies were piled on the right side. Some missing their heads, missing their upper or lower half, and others' stomachs were ripped out and just generally shredded and torn. But that wasn't what you saw first.

It was Francis, or well, his doppelganger, with blood splattered on his clothes and a little getting on his cheek. His forearm was resting on the glass as he leaned. His mouth opened and formed a smirk as he panted, breathing heavily while glaring at you. His left hand fiddled with the blood-drenched tie on his neck.

If he wasn't a murderous doppelganger, you would've swooned. But alas, you can't have nice things in life. You blinked at him before pressing the button again,

"Wait- damn it!"

He called out but the windows were closed off again as you dialed the number quickly. Yet again, the same old thing was said, another batch of agents were dispatched. You waited, fidgeting in your seat as you heard him call out to you.

"Come on... I'm sorry Y/n, I didn't mean to frighten you. Can you open the door?"

He tried to coax you with that voice... That smooth and deep voice that sounded so tired, on the verge of begging you... Wait what-

You shook your head, patting your cheeks lightly because what the hell was that? Such intrusive thoughts are not welcome while your life's in danger!

More screaming and shouting was heard as the agents arrived and you could tell they were much more prepared than the last batch. Gunshots can be heard but another animalistic growl pulled you out of your thoughts. Everything went silent again. You stay rooted on your spot as the only thing that can be heard in the air is your quivering gasps and heavy breathing on the other side of the glass panel.

Is he still there? You thought as you turned off the danger button again. More bodies were piled up on the left corner and surprise surprise, he was still alive, albeit in a rougher shape than previously. He wasn't wearing his milkman hat anymore, letting his brown messy hair show. His uniform was missing three buttons at the top, slightly showing his chest, bowtie was nowhere to be found.

He was still drenched in blood but what stunned you was what he was doing. His form raised and dropped as he inhaled and exhaled heavily, tired hazel eyes staring back at you as his eyebrows scrunched up. His hands pressed together in a pleading manner. Is he actually begging?

"Y/n, let me in... Please?"

[euphoricfilter]

come sit on my lap:

pairing: jungkook x afab! reader

genre: porn without plot || smut || established relationship || non-idol au (?)

tags/ warnings: pwp, mentioned masturbation, thigh riding, dick riding, praise kink, unprotected sex (don’t be stupid, this is fiction), creampie, mentioned cum stuffing because it didn’t make the cut. afab! reader (no gendered nicknames are used, terms like pussy is used though)

notes: listened to we are bulletproof pt.1 while writing this so do with that information what you will. yoongi’s part has me creaming myself it’s so delicious

notes 2: slight changes have been made from the original plan, otherwise this would have probably been 10k words of straight smut

my full masterlist || archived masterlist

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆.

“you’re home early”

jungkook’s gaze flickers to where you’re stood in the doorway of the living room, your eyebrows furrowing. it wasn’t displeasure painted across your face, just curious confusion.

“i missed you” he instead replies, the corners of his lips quirking upwards.

you slip further into the room, used to jungkook’s eyes on you. the rawest form of silent appreciation for the living art that stood before him; perfect in such a human way. jungkook never thought he’d find the right words to describe you. not when you looked so pretty, and perfect, and every other lame excuse of a word that was never really enough to encapsulate your entire existence.

his eyes glaze over the flush of your cheeks, sure to have just gotten out the bath. you liked to treat yourself on your days off, slipping into the hazy water, scented with the fancy bubble bath jungkook liked to treat you to.

you meet his gaze, head tilting in a silent question of what he was doing.

“come sit on my lap” he hums, “been thinking about you all day”

it’s neither a sigh nor a laugh that spills from your lips, maybe amusement. maybe love. maybe an unexplainable emotion that you reserved especially for jungkook, and jungkook only.

“yeah?”

and he nods, taking your hand into his own once you’re close enough. he tugs you down, helping you straddle one of his thighs; exactly where he’d wanted you.

he’d been thinking about this all day. how slick your cunt would get, always so easy to rile up. how he wanted to suck meanly on your poor little clit until you cried, and you begged for him to take the barest hint of mercy on you.

the mere thought of you sat in his lap, desperate for him to bring you that mind-numbing pleasure you loved to much— had his cock hardening in his pants.

if he had any lick of shame, then he might have felt guilt for getting himself off in the bathroom during his lunch break. his cock spit-soaked sticky, fist tugging at his length, a pitiful imitation of what your pussy would feel like squeezing his length until he came into his fist.

“so pretty” his hands slip down to your waist, lithe fingers barely grazing underneath your shirt, his chest deflating at the touch of your warm skin.

his thigh flexes, and you have to bite your lip to stop the moan that threatened to slip out— a flit of pleasure crawling up your body.

and as subtle as you’d like to be, jungkook can’t help the slow smile that pulls at his cheeks. not when he can feel your pussy clenching through your thin sleep shorts.

he wonders how long it’ll take for them to soak through. or how long it’ll take you to beg he run his fingers over your pussy, pressing over your clit. sinking past your walls and pressing meanly over your sweet spot until you’re shaking and begging ever so sweetly.

your hips roll forwards ever so slightly, desperation seeping from every morsel of your body. desperate for the faintest of friction to solve the issue you found yourself facing.

“don’t be shy, baby” jungkook hums, fingers digging into the meat of your hips, “use me”

“don’t say things like that” you whine, hands coming to cover your face, hot embarrassment searing your cheeks the faintest pink.

jungkook’s head tips backwards, low laugh rumbling from his chest. he flexes his thigh, cock throbbing at the moan that gets caught in the back of your throat.

“hands away from your face, come on. you know i love how pretty you look when you feel good” he takes hold of your wrists, tugging your hands to his chest.

your tongue wets your bottom lip as you find your rhythm, hips rocking forward in desperate little circles.

one of your hands slips from jungkook’s hold, thighs straining as you push yourself up. you slide the crotch of your shorts to the side, bare pussy clenching when it come in contact with jungkook’s pants.

“no panties?”

you smile, shaking your head.

you fumble with jungkook’s belt as you rut your hips forward, delicious pleasure spreading up your body with each drag of your clit against his thigh.

“want your cock” you press a kiss to his jaw, warm breath tickling his skin.

“yeah?” his voice comes out breathless.

“mhmm”

jungkook helps you, undoing his button as you push yourself to kneel over this thigh. you moan when his bare skin knocks against your clit, lifting his hips to pull his underwear down, fabric pooling at his ankles as you slip your shorts off.

your fingers wrap around his shaft, spit dribbling from your tongue onto the tip of his cock.

you jolt forwards when curious fingers part your labia, teasing over you hole.

“fuck” you whine when a finger slips into you, curling as a thumb rubs over your clit.

you squeeze his cock, thumbing the underside of the head, smearing the pearly little beads of pre cum down his shaft.

“spit on it, baby” jungkook looks at you through hooded eyes, tongue toying with his lip ring as you bounce ever so slightly on the second finger jungkook slips into your pussy.

you spit into your palm, mind too muddled to cringe at the stickiness that clings to your skin as you curl your fingers back around his cock, wrist flicking how you know he likes it.

“so good for me” he groans, hips bucking up into your hand, “come here”

his fingers slip from your cunt, helping you fully straddle his lap. his cock slides against your thigh, trail of pre cum painting your skin sticky. weird, primal satisfaction buzzing through jungkook’s veins as he marks you up with his leaking arousal.

you take hold of jungkook’s face, thumbs brushing over his cheeks.

“gimme a kiss” you whisper against his lips, “please”

“so polite” he murmurs, tilting his face, lips pillowing yours.

your mouth parts, breathy sigh licked up by jungkook as he presses his tongue past your lips.

blindly you take ahold of his cock, tugging at it once before you line him up with your entrance.

your hips rock forwards, folds parting around his cock. fizzling pleasure vibrating within you with each nudge of his cockhead against your clit.

“don’t tease” his voice comes out low, tongue prodding at your bottom lip. so shiny, a mixture of both your spit mingled and threatening to drip down your chin.

“sorry” you lift your hips up, tip of his cock pressing against your entrance. your hands brace on his shoulders, thighs quivering with each thick inch of jungkook’s cock sliding further between your walls.

“oh fuck” you moan, head falling onto his shoulder as you bottom out.

jungkook’s fingers dig into the flesh of your ass, stomach tightening in pleasure as your walls clench around his cock.

“you okay?” jungkook asks, hips barely rutting up into you.

“yeah, just feels nice” you trail a finger between your bodies, fingers thrumming ever so slightly over your clit.

arousal soaks jungkook’s cock, dribble of slick wetting his balls.

“might get tired though” you tell him as you sit up a little bit, hips rocking forward.

“i’ll help you” he smiles, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck.

you hum at that. feeling a twinge of a burn in your thighs as you push yourself up, head of his cock still sheathed within you before you drop back down his full length.

you think the air is punched from your lungs, hand that had been playing with your clit balancing yourself on his knee.

“shit, baby” jungkook groans, pulling you up his cock from your ass, “loosen up a bit”

you shake your head, mouth falling open, a moan cutting you off when his cock knocks against your sweet spot. desperation and adrenaline a fiery combination that has you pushing through the pain in your thighs, pussy swallowing his cock over and over until you’re leaking slick, and jungkook can’t help the moan that spills from his lips.

“jungkook” you cry, “s’ so good”

you feel yourself hurdling closer to an orgasm, each rugged stroke of his cock, and each brutal brush against your sweet spot sending you into overdrive.

“gonna cum?” he asks, fingers digging into your hips as he thrusts up into you. merciless and be chases his own high, rutting up into your with a new found vigour that has you hiccuping— nails digging into the fabric of his shirt.

you wilt into his chest, fingers curling into his shirt as you reach your peak; quickly tumbling down the other side as jungkook’s balls slap wetly against your ass, pleasure fueled moans a harmony with your own.

you feel jungkook’s cock twitch as you ride out your high, cunt creamy leaking down his balls as he cums; coating your walls sticky with his seed.

he ruts up into you once more, hands pulling you down as far as you can on his cock as he empties himself out inside of you. thick pulses of cum spilling into you.

“fuck” his head knocks against the back of the couch, “you’re milking me” he laughs, balls tightening when your walls clench around his softening length.

your chest stutters for a breath, hips twitching at the aftermath of your orgasm.

“you’re insatiable” jungkook licks his bottom lip when you circle your hips. “gonna have to give me a minute to recover”

jungkook lays you back, fumbling around for the small pillows propped up against the arm of the couch. he pulls the bottom half of your body up by your ankles, slipping two pillows under your hips.

“no clenching. and no spilling; i plan to stuff you full tonight” he raises an eyebrow, a silent challenge to disobey.

he runs his fingers through your slit, barely dipping between your walls to push his seed back inside of you.

“think you can do that?”

you nod, “don’t make me cum, otherwise it’s gonna make a mess of the pillows”

“you’ll be making more than a mess of the pillows” his nose scrunches. and you’re unsure if it’s bubbly love that fills your body, possibly a new wave of arousal.

maybe both.

[eddiethebrave]

secret admirer part seventeen

688 words

one two three four five six seven eight nine ten eleven twelve thirteen fourteen fifteen sixteen

Eddie wouldn’t go as far as to say that he needs the stupid notes to want to go to school.

But. 

He does kind of miss them. 

They were the highlights of those eight days before he knew where they were coming from. It gave him something to look forward to. Aside from Hellfire - which only officially meets once a week on Friday - there’s not much for him at school. 

Admittedly, Eddie has read the notes a couple of times since they’ve stopped appearing. Right now is one of those times - he needs a boost to actually make it to class instead of walking right out the front door to his van and getting out of this hellhole. 

When the notes stopped, Eddie was confused. Like, sure, he hadn’t been all that subtle in showing that he knows who H is, but it’s not like Tommy’s made it known that he knows that Eddie knows - besides not leaving notes anymore.

After lunch, he’s standing with his head practically shoved in his locker as he flips through them. As he’s carefully reading through the one he received on his birthday, it hits him. 

The ring. The fucking ring. 

It says it right there. 

if you want me to stop just don’t wear the ring and i’ll back off

How could he be so dense? Eddie rummages through the war-zone that is his locker. Honestly, it takes far longer than it should for him to emerge with the piece of jewelry. 

He isn’t sure if he wants the notes to continue. Well, he does, but he doesn’t want to lead Hagan on, no matter how much of an asshole he is. He kind of wishes he never found out about it. Curse Gareth for being considerate enough to let him know that known asshole Tommy Hagan slipped something in his locker. 

Eddie keeps the ring safely in his pocket while he’s anywhere that the boy could possibly catch sight of the thing (the halls, lunchroom, bathroom, etc.). In class, though, he can’t help but take it out. 

It really is beautiful - something he would’ve gotten for himself if saw it and had the money. 

In art, Buckley moves from the back of the room to their table. She’s partnered with Carol for the project, but the change in seating still catches Eddie as strange - they’re not even working on the portraits today, but whatever.  

Speaking of project partners, Steve’s been shifting in his heat quite a lot for the last couple of minutes. Eddie tries to ignore it, he does - God knows he’s never sitting still - but it really is hard to focus. 

Eddie turns him. “You good, man?” he whispers, not wanting to interrupt whatever the teacher is saying. Steve jumps in his seat and Eddie flinches back in surprise. “Woah, easy.” 

Steve doesn’t make eye contact, which is odd because usually he’s really…insistent on it. His gaze is instead focused somewhere on the table. “I’m- I’m okay, Munson,” he says, barely audible.

Eddie scrutinizes him a moment longer before shrugging it off. If he wants to keep it to himself then Eddie is in no position to question him. 

The last thing he ever expected - aside from receiving freaking love notes from Tommy Hagen of all people - was being (even somewhat) on friendly terms with Steve Harrington. He isn’t what Eddie had expected at all, though. 

Eddie’s always preferred him to his best friend, but that’s not really saying much. Eddie actually likes Steve. Almost too much. 

No, it’s definitely too much. 

The guy would never be as sweet to him - because that’s what he is, sweet - if he knew the thoughts running through Eddie’s head whenever he is around.

Like, Eddie didn’t die or anything when Steve confiscated his pencil and gave him the holy grail but it was a near thing. 

When the bell sounds through the room, Eddie slips the ring back in his pocket and leaves.

At the end of the next period, he tries not to overthink it as he puts the ring on and keeps it there for the rest of the day.

eighteen

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sorry if i missed anyone!!

[nervoushottee]

it happened quiet | daryl dixon x fem!reader

Summary: [1.5k] What you and Daryl have is a soft quiet love.

Big Bald Ass Note: I’ve always had a love for Daryl Dixon. He was one of the first “older man” crushes I ever had many years ago. I’ve always loved his character and the way Norman Reedus has and still does portray this character is like no other. My favorite thing about him that I didn’t understand when I watched twd when I was young but grew into adulthood was his introverted character. And how his care for others was soft, quiet and subtle yet strong and profound all at the same time. As a person who has a quiet love, personally prefers it and deeply cherishes that quiet love. I had the sudden urge to write this. I’ve been getting back into my Daryl Dixon phase recently and I just couldn’t get this out of my head. Thank you to @moonpascal for giving me that little push I needed to just go for it while the juices were flowing despite my other fic waiting outside waving her hands hoping to be seen, This is a long author’s note but this piece is truly something that means a lot to me. Which is funny because this is literally fanfiction but it's still writing and it's still art and it's mine. 

Enjoy.

Daryl wasn’t an affectionate person. It’s never been something that just came easy to him. He never received it as a child and didn’t think anything of it once he got older. 

There was one time when he was really really young. He was waiting for Merle after school, his older brother’s school building a few blocks away, and he watched his classmates greet their parents. He saw the parents with bright eyes and wide smiles. Mothers kissing their sons on the cheeks and fathers rubbing the top of their heads.

 A strong deep feeling within his belly grew from the sight of it and it got bigger and bigger as the two Dixon brothers walked back home.

And when they got to their home, Daryl saw their mom had been exactly in the same spot where the two boys had left her. Face down into the pillow, an arm hanging off the side of the bed where a spilled bottle of Jack Daniels had stained seeped into the carpet. 

Daryl cried for the first time ever. He cried for something he never had. 

He didn’t cry when he saw kids on the streets with new bikes and scooters. Didn’t cry when his mom and dad would yell until the sun went down. But he cried for this. That deep strong feeling that he couldn’t name poured out of him and he cried. Standing in the hallway as he watched his mother sleep. 

Merle, barely a teen and was bitching about spilled liquor, thought he was crying because mom looked too still. His older brother checked her pulse and felt the faint thump, thump, thump. “She’s jus sleepin’ Daryl.”, he explained to him. But Daryl didn’t stop crying. He hunched over, clutched his chest like his heart had been twisted and shoved down into his stomach and cried.

When Merle finally found out why he was crying, the older brother placed his hands on each of Daryl’s shoulders, stooped to his level and looked directly into his eyes. 

“Dixons don’t cry. Not over that or anything else. We just weren’t made for that stuff.” 

Daryl never cried or wanted it again. 

Until now. 

Until you. 

When the world’s gone to shit and the dead are walking. You gotta learn how to start trusting the living. Well,  to learn how to trust your group. They don’t just become a group of people you survive with. They become your family whether you like it or not. 

And in the beginning, Daryl sure as hell didn’t like it. 

He tried to force it away. To keep himself on the outside like he’s always done. Still did even when his brother went missing when they went back for him on that roof. But when time goes on and people die you build something, you find something and you learn something. He warmed into being more into the group. To being something of importance to Rick and the others. More than just Merle’s younger brother.  

He remembers Carol telling him that he was meant for a leadership role but he’s never thought that about himself. And never will.

And getting closer to them came with affection. Came with a bond. With awkward hugs from Carol when he had spent day and night looking for Sophia. Her cropped hair pressed against his bandaged ear. It came with pats on the back from Rick and looks that meant something a lot more brotherly than he’s ever felt with Merle. With you and your small smiles and lingering eyes. 

He had to learn to accept it. To learn that it was okay and wasn’t out of pity. That it was something he was actually allowed to have. It took him a long time to and he still only takes it in doses. Giving Carol a Cherokee Rose or the brief massage of her sore shoulder. Patting Rick’s shoulder,  hoping he knows how much his brotherly bond means to him through it. Nodding his head at you with the tip of his ears a bit red as he turns his head away from you. 

You’ve been a part of the group for as long as he could remember. And the two of you didn’t become something immediately. Daryl was an ass to you when all of this first started. He was an ass to everyone. But when he would small smiles from the courtyard, he would feel something that had never stirred inside of him before.

You were a touchy person. 

Always within arms reach of someone. Giving Lori a reassuring squeeze of the hand or hug when she seemed like she would just break down in tears from the stress of being pregnant in this world. Kissing the top of Beth's head when she came to you with her anxieties over the group's safety. Or playfully slapping T-Dog’s shoulder when he used to make you laugh.

But when it came to Daryl you never touched him. And he felt off about it. Thankful but off.

 When the two of you were starting to become something more, he had subtly brought it up when the two of you were on watch. It felt like pulling teeth when he asked you. And he would rather have done that with a rusted wrench than do this.

“I know you Daryl.” you said to him with a shrug. 

That was the only thing that you said to him when he had asked but it was all that he needed. As your eyes never left his, he watched you smile softly. The moon giving your skin a light glow. You knew that he doesn’t respond well to physical affection. To hugs or kisses on the cheek (except from Carol who does it despite the awkwardness she laughs through). You knew it was something he just wasn’t used to. Or even maybe never had.  It was only four words but it meant more to Darly than he could even say in a lifetime. 

And if you ever told anyone that he was the one that made the first move and kissed you at the top of the prison tower. He will lie until he’s blue in the face and say he doesn’t know what you’re talking about. 

After that you became more affectionate with each other. More touchy than before. Not touchy like Glenn and Maggie. Kissing each other goodbye when the other would go on a run or a quick kiss good morning. Or hugging after a run gone bad and they almost lost the other. Public display of affection to his partner, to you, is something Daryl could never really get on with. 

But what the two of you had was a quiet love. A word Daryl still had a hard time saying and rarely ever said but knew deep in his heart that he felt it whenever he looked at you. 

It was a quiet love filled with small glances and innocent touches. His hand against the small of your back or a quick tap on your arm or thigh. Your small smile to greet him and the nods that greets you.  Holding his hand underneath the table. Feeling his calloused thumb rub against your hand once or twice. Checking on eachother during the other’s watch shift. Him adding some of his food on your plate as he walks past you. You giving him a snack of whatever random thing you have on hand in the evening. Placing your head on his shoulder very briefly when there's not many people around. A mutual meaning of a hug when it's late at night and you won’t see him for a while.   

It was a silent bond the others knew about by name(ish) and feeling  but not as much by action. Those actions were yours and yours alone. And you both preferred it that way. 

Tender kisses and tight hugs. Soft caresses on the cheek and tracing fingers across bare chests. Whispered stories of childhood that turn into bedtime stories throughout the night. Expressing moments of doubt, fear or anger. Tears that would fall on your face and the feeling of his lips pressed against the top of your head.  

Even in moments when you were sleeping next to him. Your head on top of his chest or his arm curled around your stomach. Daryl would feel your wrist, his thumb against your pulse to make sure it's still beating. Or hold as still as he can like he’s tracking a buck in the forest to feel the up and down of your body to ensure you’re breathing. 

You became a big part of his life. This group (his family)  became a big part of his life. Who knew that it would only take the end of the world for him to feel something more than just anger for the first time in his entire life.  

Daryl wasn’t an affectionate person. But he learned how to be. For the good of the group, for himself and for you. 

dividers by @saradika

[gremlinmodetweeker]

(the rare) Ghost's Empire of Icks

I'm gonna be honest, I think a lot about Ghost, but I don't put much to paper. I think that it's because maybe I write so much König that I don't have much time for the big Brit. I do like him, but ya know, time. And energy too. However, today I woke up and I chose British. I must be true to my heritage.

Art from This Post

So! Ghost is rather different from the others because I suspect that every spark of joy in this man's heart is naught but a wee ember. He's genuinely such a massive killjoy it's insane.

There is no doubt in my mind that Ghost is the hardest person in the 141 to get along with. Not because he's mean, he's just... Flat.

See, the problem with Ghost is that he makes jokes all the time, it's just nobody but the 141 team picks up on them.

Ghost has the driest black British humour known to mankind. It's insanely hard to tell when he's joking about having beaten a man to death for a cup of coffee or if he actually did it. The problem is that there's a very good chance he isn't joking, but who's gonna tell the you that he's not? It's funny to watch you try and figure it out yourself.

Struggle, bitch.

That's essentially the T141 motto when it comes to figuring out Ghost's character. Gotta learn to earn, baby.

But the thing is, a pattern starts to form.

Whenever something goes wrong, Ghost will make the flattest joke you've ever heard.

*Car breaks down* Ghost: "Whelp, looks like we're walkin' boys. Cheer up, it's only a ten mile hike. We'll be there soon enough."

That's how subtle his humour is. You might genuinely mistake it for optimism if you didn't know him better. It's hard to follow sometimes, his jokes can be a wee bit cerebral, but he's a funny guy in all honesty. Not bad company after all.

Ghost might be the hardest person to really get in the 141, but if you crack the code he's absolutely hilarious. He genuinely is! It's just usually the most sarcastic one-liner you've ever heard.

If it's not hard to get Ghost's jokes, it's easy to understand how he feels about good ol' Great Britain.

He's a bloody patriot.

Patriotic to a fault.

That's not to say he can't take a joke, of course not. Hell, he's cracking them half the time. He is totally fine with laughing off how shitty his country is

But if you genuinely mean it? If you genuinely think Britain suck? Oh he has words. Maybe not out loud, but he's judging you hardcore.

You don't like the rain? Tough. Rain's what makes the Englishman a hardened man.

You don't like all their slang? Get used to it. If he can learn American slang to get your movies and use South African to go undercover, you can learn his. He's pretty petty about this too.

If you think Britain has a lot to answer for? He does agree, he's not going to advocate for colonialism and genocide, but also 'the past is the past so there's not much use dredging it back up'. He's a bit of a prick about this actually. I could have a lot to say to him, but he's too patriotic to really accept any faults.

He's also just really obnoxious about anything British. If it was invented by a Brit? He'll be sure to bring it up (notably will not bring up the fact that the inventor was actually Welsh/Scottish/Northern Irish)

Tying in with his patriotism, Ghost is a bit... Stubborn. He's a bit of a stick in the mud, if you will. Bullheaded to a fault. He'll refuse to admit to something going wrong in his life in any way shape of form. Unfortunately, this mostly shows up when his hearing bothers him.

"Once went to a concert in Stonehenge. Crackin' good concert, but I got a ringin' in my ears for weeks afterwards. Still got it, if I'm gonna be honest."

"Wasn't that when you enlisted in the military? You know, started doing firearms training?"

"Well yeah. Why?"

It will take ages to get Simon's attention. Not because he's not interested, but because he just can't hear too well. When it's quiet he can filter noise easily enough, but if you're trying to get his attention in a club it's next to impossible.

When he's in loud situations, he's learned to rely a fair bit on lip reading. He'll never admit it, of course. He can hear just fine, you know.

He is too stubborn to take a hearing test. You'll just have to suffer with yelling at him when he's just in the next room or having to go hunt him down in the house whenever you need to get his attention.

Speaking of, finding Ghost is a whole issue in and of itself. He's a big man, about 6'5 (maybe a bit under but nobody would dare question him), and pretty broad. However, when he's moving about, he's entirely silent.

The problem with this is that Ghost likes to walk around quite a bit. If you leave to go do some shopping and ask him to wait outside the changing rooms, he'll bugger off and do his own thing.

You can't call his name, but you can try his phone. You just have to hope he has it on him. Or that it's charged, he's horrible for keeping it uncharged.

He's a bit of a menace with his sneaking off. Usually it's fine, but sometime you need him right now and he's off in the ether doing whatever

You'll get a phone call from the bank that he needs to take immediately and you'll spend the next fifteen minutes scurrying around the house trying to find him. You can't call his name, you just have to hope you find him as the person on the other end of the line steadily grows more irate with each passing minute.

It's a genuine nightmare scenario that you have to go through on a monthly basis

Once you find him, he's under his car in the garage fixing something and he's completely oblivious as to why you're so upset.

"If you needed me so badly, why didn't you just yell my name?"

You're going to kill him in his sleep one day.

Anyways, those are just some of my thoughts. I think he's a big gross man but I love him. He's just so grumpy all the time that it's fun. Grumpy, sarcastic, bitter. The perfect man.

Ghost Dump

Ghost Headcanons

[brightlight-dazzlingeyes]

this love is ours | lewis hamilton

🍵 synopsis: It's just another Thursday, and you've invited your boyfriend over for dinner. It's the early stages of your relationship and you're both still trying to understand how to make it work. warnings: domestic life with lewis, mention of smut but nothing too graffic just a lot of fluff, really. (written in 2nd person but no mention of yn) (around 1.5k words)

part 1

The doorbell rings, and you’re there before it can sound a second time. You’d been trying – unsuccessfully – to keep the anxiety at bay, telling yourself you weren’t just sitting here, practically waiting like a dog by the door.

Something about that image stings. Waiting around for someone else, no life of your own.

You don’t want whatever this is between you two to feel like that.

But here you are, sighing as you open the door, realizing you’d been holding your breath. Lewis stands there with that easy grin of his, the one that always lights up when he sees you. He steps inside with the same comfortable ease he has every time, like he belongs here.

It’s a little absurd, really – seeing him in your cramped one-bedroom apartment. Everything about him feels too big, like he could barely fit in the space, yet somehow he does. He makes himself at home without a second thought, even looking thrilled whenever you ask him to come by.

Your apartment is nothing special, but it’s yours. The walls are covered in mismatched frames with art prints and photos, books stacked in piles wherever there’s space, some spilling over onto the floor. Plants cling to life on the windowsill, a few drooping leaves reminding you you’ve probably forgotten to water them for a while.

And now he is here.

Watching him in your home, sprawled out on your too-small couch or grabbing a drink from your mismatched kitchenware, you feel a strange mix of affection and unease. Intimacy has always been tricky for you and bringing someone in feels like laying out every part of yourself for inspection. You still can’t believe he wants to be here, tangled up in your mess of books and half-dead plants – not just tolerating it, but actually enjoying it.

And you’re still not sure if it’s comforting or unsettling to let him see your life laid out this way, all the things that make you... you.

After a couple of dates, you tried to explain. “Intimacy is a bit complicated for me,” you said, half-expecting him to tense up or brush it off. But he didn’t flinch. He just nodded, as if you’d mentioned something as mundane as your favorite tea.

“Another thing we have in common, I guess,” he’d said with a little laugh, like you were still comparing movie preferences.

part 2

In your kitchen, you’re chopping vegetables while he hovers close, his hand on your waist, tracing absentminded circles with his thumb. He’s always been touchy like this, finding ways to keep you close whenever you’re together, as if he can’t help himself.

“I wish you could come this weekend,” he says, leaning over to sneak a slice of carrot.

You give a small shrug, feigning nonchalance. “Maybe you should just do like the rest of the paddock and date a jobless woman,” you tease, keeping your tone light, but it lands with a subtle weight you can both feel.

It’s playful, sure, but there’s an edge. There’s this guilt whenever one of you can’t be there for the other. No one’s blaming anyone, not really. You’re both still trying to make this work, but the distance, the missed moments – they’re always there, lingering in the back of your minds, just out of sight, and sometimes they sting.

The kettle starts to boil, and the sharp whistle slices through the silence, cutting off the tension.

He chuckles, turning to you with a smile. “Or maybe I’ll just get them to move the race here, to your kitchen,” he says. “I think I’d be faster with you handing out snacks.”

He bumps his shoulder against yours, and the mood lifts, just like that.

part 3

You’re both on the sofa, legs tangled together, sipping tea in comfortable silence. Your legs rest over his lap, feeling heavy but safe.

“I’m so tired. I can’t even –”

“Can’t even what?” he prompts gently, looking at you with those warm eyes.

“Can’t even finish a sentence,” you admit, laughing softly. “I was going to say it’s nice to be here with you, but…”

He chuckles, brushing his thumb across your ankle. “But?”

“But, you know, I just keep trailing off, and it’s –”

“It's cute,” he interrupts, his smile widening. “You know you don’t have to talk, right?”

“I do,” you reply, stifling a yawn. “But it’s just… I want to say something, but my brain isn’t… cooperating. It’s like, I have all these thoughts, but they just… float away.”

“Maybe your brain just wants to go to bed,” he suggests, his tone teasing.

“Maybe,” you murmur, your eyelids growing heavier. “But… I’m too tired for that. For, um, for sex and stuff.”

He laughs, shaking his head. “I know. I’m tired too, baby. Let’s just sleep tonight, okay?”

part 4

He’s got you caged in his arms, his warmth wrapping around you like a blanket. He starts leaving soft kisses along the side of your face, then your neck, then just behind your ear. Each kiss is a gentle peck, and you can feel yourself practically melting, a soft sigh escaping your lips. His kisses make your whole body tingle, and you just want to be closer, to press into him until there’s no space left between you.

You shift, adjusting, trying to find that perfect spot – but nothing feels like enough. No matter how tightly you hold him, it still doesn’t feel close enough. He kisses you again, even softer, his hand stroking your hair, sending little shivers down your spine.

And then he starts to laugh, a quiet chuckle at first that grows, his whole body shaking. He laughs harder as you keep squirming, and soon he’s laughing so hard it’s impossible to ignore. You pull back, frowning, pushing him away with a huff.

“You’re so mean!” you exclaim, trying to sound serious, but he’s made it impossible not to pout. You hate feeling this childish around him, but he’s just… infuriating.

“What happened to just sleeping?” you add, feeling the warmth rise to your cheeks as he keeps grinning.

He shrugs, pulling you back in and brushing a final kiss across your forehead. “You’re too cute when you’re frustrated,” he murmurs, his voice soft against your hair. “Now go back to sleep.”

“I don’t think I can,” you admit, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “I should’ve known better than to get in bed with you.”

He chuckles, his arms tightening around you. “Maybe you should’ve,” he says, teasing, but he pulls you in even closer, resting his chin on the top of your head.

Wrapped in his shirt, which hangs off you in oversized, lopsided folds, you laugh as you fumble to pull it off, and he starts helping, chuckling with you as you get tangled up in the sleeves.

He pauses for a moment, looking at you, his thumb brushing gently across your cheek. “You know,” he whispers, a small smile playing on his lips, “you’re beautiful.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the way your cheeks flush. “I’m serious,” he insists, his tone warm, his eyes soft.

You give in with a sigh, mumbling, “I’m sorry about earlier… I didn’t mean to snap. I just – had a pretty shitty day at the office.”

He nods, his hand moving down to squeeze your shoulder reassuringly. “I know,” he murmurs. “We’re both tired, aren’t we?” He leans in to kiss you, his lips brushing over yours with a tenderness that makes your heart skip.

He smiles as he finally frees you from the shirt, tossing it aside and gently pressing you back onto the bed. “My girl is so pretty…” he teases, his voice warm and playful as he kisses you again, holding you close.

His hands move slowly along your sides, fingertips tracing gentle patterns on your skin. Everything is quiet now, just the two of you wrapped up in each other, your breaths syncing. 

You let your hands drift along his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing. He dips down, pressing soft kisses along your collarbone, your breasts, his breath warm and steady, calming you.

Even though you’re both on the edge of sleep, barely keeping your eyes open, your bodies seem to know exactly what to do. His weight presses down on you, grounding you. His scent is warm and intoxicating, lulling you deeper into the moment.

Neither of you rushes – there’s no urgency. You guide him to a rhythm that feels effortless, as if you’ve always known how to move together like this.

It’s gentle and unhurried, every movement blending into the next as you lose yourselves in the softness of each other. All you know in this moment is his warmth, his weight, and the sound of your breaths mixing in the quiet of the room. 

And even in this half-dreamlike state, somehow, you both find the release you need, a quiet, shared bliss that lingers as he presses his forehead to yours, breathing in time with you.

You’re both too tired for anything more, and that’s okay. The closeness, the way his hand settles on the small of your back, pulling you in tighter, says enough. You brush your fingers through his hair, letting your eyes drift shut as he trails one last kiss along your shoulder.

“Goodnight, beautiful,” he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper. His arms hold you close, and you let out a sigh, feeling yourself finally relax as you hold him back, allowing yourself to feel small in his arms.

[vixen-tech]

Hi, hi, hii!! Here's a silly little idea I had: headcanons about the AIs developing feelings for someone. What do you think would initially make them feel attraction? Is there a particular trait that makes them-- metaphorically --fall head over heels? What makes them have the realization that their affections are suddenly less than platonic? How subtle or not subtle are they about their feelings? Would they be the type to immediately blurt out these new feelings, or are they the type to never address them?

You don't have to answer all of these questions; I just thought they'd be helpful. AaAA I love your writing so much, especially how you write for AM. Okay, I'll shut up nowwwww

Okay I'm absolutely gonna have to revist this some point down the line because there is so much I could stretch into a full headcanon post. But for now I'm gonna bite into first two questions: Why is it you they fall for? What caught their eye?

To be barred from AM's hatred, you're ultimately going to have to prove him wrong about humanity in some way. Setting yourself apart from the other human survivors and extending compassion to the mastercomputer himself. In particular I really like how rotten-raspberries's White Nights handles the entry point of your relationship and it's the model I like to hint at in my interpretation of him.

I believe Hal would be interested in a old soul type. Someone who would love to sit down and really explain their more philosophical views on life and art. He likes looking at the drawings the crew makes and was taught to sing early into his creation and I think he would find a deep appreciation for someone who indulges that side of him when the others do so on only the most surface level.

I could make the easy observation with Edgar and say he just wants someone like Madeline, but there's a reason it's so true. Being so new to the world he would find such passion and artistry amazing, astonishing. He loves so easily and is so energetic about life, he would easily be swept off his feet by a kindred spirit.

Tau would be very similar I imagine. Given the temperament of his creator he needs someone to kindly sit him down and give him the "welcome to personhood 101" speech. Compared to Edgar I think he'd prefer someone a bit gentler or even scholarly. The type who would not only be content to answer his billions of questions but someone so invested themselves in figuring out how the world works.

As a bit of a departure from what I tend to write, I believe P03 would be suited for more of a rivals with romantic tension type of partner. With his world domination plot and investment in the game of Inscryption it would be very possible for him to get in his head about someone as equally skilled and stuck up as he is. Loving the challenge but hating you at the same time in a "I'm the only one allowed to defeat you" type way.

The hardest to crack is probably Auto. In order for him to even look your way I think you'd have to at first play to his need for efficiency and order. It's only after you establish yourself as a dependable and effective worker that he would pay any mind to your insistence that surely there's something that he truly enjoys, something that he wants.

Glados is another hard one to win over. Being all "married to science" you would have to be of a particular intellectual caliber, able to solve her tests without much set back. Beyond that though, some amount of persistence or rebellion would catch her eye. Perhaps not on the level of Chell per say, but there is a part of her that would love to pick your brain if you're able to consistently break her test chambers.

Although it's a bit sad, Wheatley wants nothing more than to be important. He would probably be the easiest to woo just because he's so desperate to prove himself to anyone including himself. For someone to care about him, to think he is skilled in any way, to look at him as worthy- worthy of love and attention, would be a blissful and new experience. One that he'd quickly obsess over.

[spngi]

My tears ricochet | mafia!carlos sainz jr x reader

Prologue

part 1 | part 2

summary: Mr. and Mrs. Sainz lived in a dream for many years, now everything is falling apart and they need to deal with their feelings

warnings: Grammar mistakes, citation of violence, Carlos is an idiot, mentions of cheating

Carlos Sainz Jr was a true gentleman, a loyal and kind companion, a loving lover. A captivating man who won me over at first glance, with his chocolate-colored eyes and million-dollar smile. I didn't know who Carlos really was until I became deeply involved with him, until I realized I loved him so much that it wouldn't make any difference if he were a prince, a fisherman, or a mobster.

I met Carlos at the art gallery where I worked in Madrid; he was charming, affectionate, and too perfect to be true. He made efforts to create perfect dates and show all the affection he had for me; loving Carlos was as easy as breathing.

He was always very open about his feelings, his plans for the future, but he avoided revealing what his job was as much as possible. I tried to guess, after all, there aren't many job options in the market that could justify a huge mansion and the need for many security guards around him, but I never succeeded.

It took him a year to open up about his illicit activities to me, perhaps pressured by fate with subtle gestures. Before I could find out on my own, Carlos came clean.

I loved him deeply, but a woman has her limits and there are things I can't tolerate. I loved him infinitely, but thinking about all the things he did or was involved in made me sick. I had to overlook many things to be with him because, after all, I loved him, and that was what mattered, right?

"A monster is not a monster when you love it." This phrase was never more true. Carlos was never a monster to me, even after he told me all the terrible things he had done. I would still love him anyway.

Carlos loved me for five years, loved me while we timidly got to know each other, loved me when I tried to leave his life, loved me with all my mess when I moved into his house, loved me on our wedding day as we shared tears, loved me through three wedding anniversaries. But he didn't love me when I had to mature, when I realized that in the life we were living, you either bite or get bitten, when I realized that staying clean-handed would only bring me grief and sadness.

He began to distance himself gradually: the bed seemed too far away, he kept his hugs at bay, stayed late at the office to avoid sharing a bed, left early from our house to avoid breakfast together. I spared no effort to keep him close, planned dinners he would make excuses not to attend, tried to surprise him at the office only to be chased away. Then came the day he decided to move rooms. I was startled to enter the room we shared, where we had been so happy, now empty, without his clothes, without his pillow, without his bath products.

It hurt too much to see him so distant. He claimed he needed time to think, but there was no emotion in his words. We were both scared of what had happened in the previous months. After the incident where they tried to hurt me, I needed my husband's help. I wanted him to protect me, I needed his support, needed to be strong like him and not just his helpless wife.

Even after all my efforts to make him love me again, he never returned to our room. Then the girl came into the story. A woman's intuition is funny; I knew the moment he came home on a certain day that he had found another woman. Even with all the moments I tried to change Carlos's mind, using every possible means and humiliating myself more than I would allow at any other time, nothing stopped that moment from arriving.

"What is this?" I ask, not daring to touch the envelope in front of me.

"They're the divorce papers, y/n..." Carlos sighs, appearing for the first time in a long time for breakfast. "I tried to be as fair as possible, but you can look at them and then we'll negotiate."

"There will be no negotiation, Carlos! Because there will be no divorce," I reply, trying to stay firm. This day seemed close, but something in me still refused to believe it would come. Something in me refused to accept that I would have to divorce Carlos. This was just a phase, something that happens to any couple; we didn't need to be extremists.

"Y/n... please, be rational. We can't prolong this; it's the best way out for both of us," he tries to negotiate.

"And I disagree with your opinion. My God, Carlos! We're talking about our marriage! You didn't even try to give us a chance," I respond, frustrated.

"There's no solution anymore, y/n..." he murmurs to me, and that breaks me even more.

"I won't sign them, Carlos," I push the envelope away from me. The wedding ring gleams on my left hand with the movement, a simple touch of irony to the whole situation.

English is not my first language.

Leave your comments and opinions ❤️

[soupandsimple]

Coach P. (with James Potter)

[ gym coach James being called out by a student for often visiting you during their art class ]

* simple fluff 💜

** muggle au

This was requested: see the ask here

……………………….

Knock knock knock

You looked over to the little window of your classroom door while in the middle of demonstrating to your students how to create clean, even coverage brush strokes with a paint brush and saw James Potter, the school’s gym teacher waving at you.

You smiled, held up your pointer finger informing him to give you a moment and continued on explaining the method.

“There, that easy” you said to the group of twelve year old children once you finished. “Now I want you all to practice this technique on the mosaic sheet designs you made yesterday. I’ll be coming around checking your progress in a bit,” you concluded.

As the kids stood up to gather their painting supplies from the back of the room, you went over and finally opened the door.

“Sorry for the wait” you apologized to James.

“No, no- you’re here to do your job. I have no trouble waiting around for you…here, I brought you these” he said, handing you a bag of fruit snacks that were carried in the school’s vending machines.

“Ugh, you know I can’t say no to fruit snacks” you admitted as you grabbed the bag. “I’ll just save them for later, it makes me sad to eat them with the students watching” you forced a little laugh as you set them on your desk.

“Such a thoughtful thing you are,” James half joked, half gushed.

“As are you coach Potter,” you playfully bantered back, resulting in a shared shy laugh as you each looked in different directions.

“No but seriously though James, thank you for the snacks,” you spoke in your normal tone of voice now, with a smile of gratitude on your lips.

Before James could reply, Lawrence, one of the more outspoken boys of his year, called out, “Hey coach P, why do you always come in here during our class?”

Some of the students laughed while others internally gasped and stared at each other with knowing looks, looks that told you they all speculated there was something between you and James.

“Uhh..well it’s my free period Lawrence,” James replied back as casually as he could.

“Yeah but you like always come in here, can’t you go home during your break or take a nap?”

“No, work is still work. I can’t leave the school and I certainly can’t sleep.”

“That sucks Coach…I bet you still look forward to your free period everyday anyways don’t you?” Lawrence said with three comical eyebrow wiggles.

A group of girls giggled and even you wanted to laugh at the fact that James was being called out by a twelve year old but luckily you were able to contain your lips in a subtle smile.

A red hue quickly spread across James’s cheeks as he let out an airy chuckle, “Okayyyy Lawrence, enough of that. Why don’t you get back to your work.”

Lawrence shrugged and went on about his business.

What the students didn’t know was that during the summer, James and you had been set up on a blind date by mutual friend Remus Lupin but that once you met and found out you’d be working at the same school that year, you both decided it’d be better to keep things simple and just be friends. The feelings between you two, however, were undeniable and it was really only a matter of time before you both accepted you were not meant to limit yourselves to a friendship.

“Well, I should go,” James said pointing to the door with both hands then walking backward towards it to keep an eye on you. “But oh, hey, you going to Rem’s birthday dinner tomorrow night?”

“Mhm,” you nodded.

“Good, um me too. I’ll see you there then?”

“Yeah, see you there,” you assured him happily with a little wave goodbye.

James smiled and cutely saluted you in exchange of a wave and as he walked out of the door, Lawrence eagerly shouted out …

“Have a good weekend coach P!”

… to which James pretended not to have heard and kept on his way without a look back.

Naturally though, he couldn’t help the small smile that escaped his lips as he exited, just as your lips did the same inside because you both knew you’d be getting to see each other outside of school hours for a change; and well, that certainly made for a good weekend. <3

[am-i-interrupting]

Hihiii I have a Hasbin Hotel request!!! Was wondering if you could do some headcanons for Vox and Lucifer with an S/O who loves gifting them their drawings but gets really nervous when they watch them do their work? If this isn't exactly your "Cup of Tea" or you just dunno how to write this, feel free to ignore, no hard feelings!:]

Lucifer

He is always so excited when you gift him drawing.

He will sing your praises (sometimes literally)

This man is the first to compliment you.

He will ask you about your technique, your mediums, your inspirations.

He will also point out little things that he noticed that maybe you didn’t even notice where there.

He is 100% that friend who looks at your work and goes “Oh! That’s how these two are connected, right?” and you either are like “That’s such a brilliant idea” or “Yeah, absolutely, that was soooo intentional.” He will not notice if you’re lying through your teeth. He is too busy appreciating the art.

He will ask you if he can watch you just so he can understand your process and therefore understand you better.

He is so respectful when you say no. He is a creative. He understands.

If you’re inclined to though, he will make space for you in his workshop with your backs facing each other so neither of you have to be watched.

Vox

This man pretends like he doesn’t care but really, he does. He cares so much.

He will point out where you fucked up but in the same breath offer a way for you to fix it.

He is the one who gives you an unfiltered opinion on everything that’s wrong with what you made if you ask (otherwise he mostly talks trivial, like you forgot to blend this thing). If you bring in Velvette and Valentino as well, prepare to be read to filth.

If he finds you stressing over past things that you can no longer fix without ruining your drawing entirely, he’s going to turn on the Edna Mode energy and basically say, “Don’t look at the past, it distracts from the now.” (He says while being obsessed with the past. Not so easy, is it, Vox?)

Your supplies just magically refills whenever your almost out.

Where’d it come from? Who knows! It’s not like he has access to your online shopping history so there’s no way he would know what to get you. He’s not an artist.

He is the most subtly unsubtle show off when it comes to your art.

He’s going to a meeting? Well, how did these colorful pages end up amongst his files? A true mystery.

His office walls? Filled with your best drawings framed. The artist? Oh, his lovely partner. It’s a hobby they have, no big deal.

He would watch you draw even if you told him you felt uncomfortable with the idea.

Subtle stepping over boundaries. Your art room is bugged so he can watch you at every angle. No harm, you’ll never know.

He does find watching you work relaxing though. If he’s particularly stressed, he’ll find himself pulling up your feed and just watching you for what he thought was minutes but turned out to be hours and oh shit! Now he’s even more behind in his work schedule! Fuck!

[hermitcraftx]

Actually, no, I'm not done talking about the Minecraft Movie. I'm so incredibly angry about what could have been. Rant incoming, sorry to any and all witnesses. All ye who enter here abandon all hope.

The Lego Movie was a good movie because it was an homage to animators and the community it had built up during the years, was genuinely very well animated and had good plot points despite maintaining its humor, and was a good watch to people who didn't even like Legos. It did have a couple big name actors placed in there to draw views (i.e. Will Ferrell) but for the most part the movie was completely animated with very sparse real life moments that worked very well to tie into the narrative the movie was creating. You're a little kid and the world is so big and angry and full of structure, and you just want to create the things you want to see without being told what to do. Emmett is an ordinary guy told he's special as a lie to get him to comply with what Vitruvius wanted, the same way he complied with orders his entire life, and he defeated that cycle of thinking by showing kindness despite his terrible treatment, unlike Lord Business (i.e. Will Ferrell). It worked astoundingly well to create something that ticked a lot of boxes: narratively sound, incredibly pleasing to look at, funny, and capable of handling serious topics despite being a Kid's Movie.

The Minecraft Movie... does none of that. There are no well placed homages or tributes to a loving community that has been built up for well over a decade. There are no callbacks to Minecraft animations, to any of the Minecraft covers that were a staple of early Minecraft, no references or respects paid to anybody that has been a big name in the community. For fuck's sake, they didn't even put Herobrine is. Herobrine is, to be frank, the most basic Minecraft reference they could have input into this movie as a subtle nod to the community that almost everyone would have understood, and I remain disappointed.

The art style isn't respectful of Minecraft animators at all, instead vaguely resembling AI slop where they tasked it to make Minecraft in real life with realistic shader packs as the references. To be quite frank, it is a spit in the face of almost every creative person in the community. It's disrespectful to the animators, the parody creators, the modpack creators (highly unlikely but I really hope they get in deep shit for using some of them as references, because it's almost uncanny how similar they look), the Minecraft content creationists, everybody. I know they let a scant few Minecraft youtubers on set, but still.... no well hidden easter eggs? No CaptainSparklez logo? No Yogscast? No EthosLab tnt slab? Not even any of the newer youtubers that have made the Minecraft scene up for the past several years. (Not talking about the green guy, god, no, I'm very grateful for that in fact. But nobody at all? Seriously?) I get that it's a MINECRAFT movie, not a Minecraft youtuber movie, and is supposed to be well-digestible for the average audience that isn't familiar with Minecraft, but there are very easy ways to implement this. Most people would at the very least be happy to see a couple seconds of community references, regardless of what they were. Again, NO HEROBRINE? What the fuck are the Warner Bros doing.

There appears to be no strong structural narrative that ties into the base game either, despite there being a... relatively straightforward way to implement one? Look, man, the game literally has objectives for you, despite being relatively sandbox. You spawn in, you chop wood, mine for diamonds, and fight monsters, you go to the Nether, you beat the dragon. The piglins as an element outside of the Nether don't make sense as gameplay wise they zombify, which has been mentioned a lot, true, but I haven't seen ANYONE mention that they could just... I don't know... Go to the fucking Nether!? Why is the plot line being pulled from Minecraft Legends, a game that everyone thought was boring and forgot about instantly? Why are Mojang and Microsoft trying so hard to branch out from base game Minecraft? So far it looks to just be a bullshit poorly carried out isekai movie with a bunch of big name actors, one liners, shitty quips and "he's right behind me isn't he"s. There's no SERIOUS plot beat at all, not even getting a feeling that this might be any more than "uh oh, they're stuck in Minecraft and piglins are trying to kill them!"

The CGI is terrible. Just incredibly poorly implemented. The people look gigantic at the start and it's not immersed at all, it genuinely looks like some of the worst green screen work I've ever seen. They look like they're standing on a rug.

I don't know. It just makes me incredibly angry. There's a deep lack of understanding and appreciation for the game, and that sounds childish, but I think it is decently imperative to at least understand the basics of Minecraft before you make a game on it. Most people under the age of 30 understand at least a little bit about Minecraft, and if they don't, it is your job to make it enjoyable for them! You can make a story about a man that washes up in a strange world and goes to kill a dragon. Everyone can understand that. That's a very basic story that we've been milking for literally hundreds of fucking years. Nothing in the trailer resembles Minecraft at ALL, it was genuinely unrecognizable and alien to me when I first saw it. The trailers don't have a strong resemblance to Minecraft either, but it's there, and they could have honestly just based it off mostly the trailers and that would have been better? Making the movie fully animated would have given it charm and appealed to kids in the same way, and they could have pulled a Lego Movie and done an in person sequence with Jack Black at some point. I don't know. I don't understand a single cinematic decision in making this film.

A lot of people wanted a deep somber animated film about Steve exploring the loneliness and solitude of the world he's in, trying to thrive and create in spite of that, and while I agree that would be incredible, there is just no universe where that would happen in. But that doesn't mean this is excusable. There are so many better ways to execute and implement the ideas that would do well in big theater for a kid's game and it looks like they spat on those ideas and put them in a blender. It's almost comical how bad the movie is: and such a huge, SAD fucking jump from Warner Bros blowing it out of the water with the Barbie Movie last year. My young cousin finds the pink sheep scary and wanted me to turn it off when we showed it to her. There is truly no audience that I feel this appeals to in a meaningful way, and I hope it flops like Morbius. I hope Microsoft and Warner Bros go bankrupt from this.

All in all, it's a terrible example of a game that has been near and dear to a lot of people's hearts and a significant portion of a lot of people's childhoods and makes a mockery of the people that enjoy it, I feel. It's like if The Mario Movie and Jumanji had a terrible, terrible baby. Unless their plan was to get so much negative attention that hoardes of people go to hate watch it, I have no fucking idea who the hell let any of this be released to the public.

Don't go watch it. Don't give these people your money. Demand better for your community and your fans. Hold Microsoft and Warner Bros accountable for bad quality. Microsoft has been a fucking nightmare since... forever, really, but Mojang has really suffered under their iron fist rule for a long time now. Microsoft has been trying to push Mojang to other games and Mojang, due to Microsoft's restrictions, is unable to function as it's own entity anymore. Any drama with updates? Updates too long? Missing out on content from certain updates? Caused by the copyright being owned by Microsoft. Make no mistake, I'm not defending Mojang, they aren't a small little indie company like they say they are- they're owned by one of the biggest goddamn companies in the world. Microsoft has been working on this movie for a goddamn decade and has been working on this concept specifically for almost four years, and this is what they came up with? It's nightmarish. Knowing them they'll try and push it onto the people that actually play the game too, god forbid.

Don't let them ruin our game. Don't give them your money. Watch something worth your time.

[initforthelolzz]

No one does queer representation quite like One Piece.

Allow me to explain in great detail.

I’m going to talk about the queer rep in Impel Down, and you’d best buckle up cause it’s rant time.

Impel Down is one of my favorite arcs because I love the story line, it’s downright hilarious, and Luffy’s struggle to rescue Ace is incredibly compelling.

But there is another reason why I love Impel Down so much, and that’s the queer rep that utterly knocked me off my feet.

Now, I’ve come to accept that queer representation in anime (not touching on any other media in this rant) is generally nonexistent or extremely rare… if you’re watching anything other than a BL.

On the rare occasion that we do find some LGBT rep it is usually extremely subtle, and shown exclusively in convoluted subtext and minuscule details that are easily overlooked. While this representation is so incredibly meaningful to everyone who’s able to pick it out, the subtly makes it all the more easy for homophobes to argue that it was never in the first place.

Keeping all this in mind, I finally picked up One Piece several months ago after refusing to watch it for a long-assed time (It was too long and I thought the art style was weird. Dear god have I eaten my words.) I’d heard on social media that One Piece was big on trans representation, but I wasn’t prepared at ALL for what I’d find in that department.

I had NOT expected to find One Piece’s treasure trove of LGBT characters in Impel Down of all pleases, and the shock factor made it so much better.

The arc had already been chaotic as fucking hell by the time Luffy reunited with Bon Clay, and their reunion made me tear up. Like dude!

I hadn’t been particularly attached to Bon Clay before but THIS ^ was it. This scene right here, he wormed his way into my heart istfg.

Can we appreciate this scene please?! The sparkles in the background?? The leg lifting?! The REUNION HUG?!?! I love this so dearly not just because it’s fucking ADORABLE but because of what it *says.*

Bon Clay is an outwardly queer character, and Luffy absolutely adores him. Those two are best friends and we treat queer people with respect and they are good people. We can be friends with them and allies with them and they aren’t something to shy away from just because they’re different.

Be fucking for real. The representation is so positive, and it never ceases to blow me away.

If you thought that this representation was enough YOU WERE WRONG because this BARELY SCRATCHED THE SURFACE.

Iva. Emperio Ivankov. The Queen of the Queers. He is a gender fluid ICON and a literal drag queen. His special attack is a wink that blows shit up. His Devil Fruit ability is quite literally hormone therapy.

Do I need to say more?

THATS RIGHT, I FUCKING DONT

Now, this is One Piece we’re talking about, so naturally characters are going to be wildly exaggerated but ARE YOU KIDDING

IVA’S ABILITY IS HORMONE THERAPY. HE CHANGES PEOPLE’S GENDER AS AN ATTACK. HIS POWER WORKS THROUGH SYRINGE NEEDLES THAT POP OUT FROM UNDER HIS ACRYLIC NAILS.

I love Iva so fucking much words cannot describe 😭

Oda didn’t just say “look, I made a queer character” he really said “fuck it, nuclear option it is.” It is literally impossible to ignore the fact that Iva is LGBT, and One Piece’s queer rep is SO IN YOUR FACE, especially in Impel Down. It’s impossible to ignore, which is the stark opposite from the usual business with “implied” queer characters in anime.

Implied? HAH.

There is a kingdom of gay people living INSIDE THE WALLS of the biggest prison in the world. They are led by a gender fluid drag queen and run a strip club bar in the middle of a fucking prison, where they drag new gays through the cracks in the walls to join them.

Dude.

I love One Piece so much.

All joking aside, the introduction of Iva and his kingdom of gays drove me to tears. Like deadass. The representation literally drove me to tears, I was sobbing.

Why? Because it was so positive.

Do you know how meaningful that is?

It made me fucking cry, man.

Iva’s speech introducing his gay kingdom, like goddamn. I can’t even remember exactly what he said because I was crying the whole time.

“We’re here and we’re queer.” That’s a quote from fucking One Piece, dude. I can’t, I can’t.

It wasn’t just the introduction of Iva’s kingdom or the LITERAL LESBIAN COUPLE SITTING AT THE BAR, it was the way the sense of community was presented.

We’re called the LGBTQ Community and I don’t know if Oda’s a member or not but HOT damn if he doesn’t know what it means to be a part of it.

I’m talking about the Luffy situation. He fought the Warden and got his ass handed to him. He was poisoned to all hell and about to die at 17 but Bon picked him up and carried him to Iva’s Kingdom. He’s wanted to meet Iva his whole life but by the time he did he was more worried about Luffy’s condition than anything else.

And then we find out that Luffy had insisted that Bon get medical treatment before he did. What a guy. When Iva got Luffy, he said that it was a lost cause to try and overcome the poison. But he was willing to give it a try anyway.

Let’s discuss.

Iva injected Luffy with hormones to help him beat the poison. Luffy underwent hormone therapy. (I will cling to this tidbit of information forever, YOU CANT TAKE IT FROM ME.) When Bon woke up, he demanded to see Luffy.

Iva warned him about what he would find, but brought Bon to Luffy at his request. When Bon found Luffy, he found his friend chained up and screaming in excruciating pain. We didn’t see Luffy in full at all during this time, but when Bon looked through the door he was horrified.

He got defensive. He started yelling at Iva, saying that the person inside that room was not the Luffy he knew.

Iva was firm, and told Bon that Luffy was going through a tough challenge, and he would be different afterwards, but he was still the same Luffy.

Do you see it? Can you read between the lines? This exchange made me sob all over again. Why? I urge you to think about it, to see the underlying message here.

Bon broke down into tears, realizing that Luffy was fighting for his life. He apologized and took back his harsh words.

Then he spent hours outside Luffy’s cell, screaming till his throat was raw and cheering him on. He couldn’t do anything to help Luffy, Luffy was fighting this battle on his own. But he could be there for him.

I ask you again, do you see it?

As the hours passed, others in Iva’s kingdom trickled out to see what Bon was doing. They told him to stop screaming, that it was useless. They mocked him, told him he was being a fool.

Then Iva stood up for him, and told them to see Bon for what he was doing. He couldn’t help Luffy, but he could cheer him on. He could be there for him.

Within moments, the entire kingdom was outside Luffy’s cell. Cheering him on. Encouraging him. Supporting him. They didn’t know who he was but they saw him fighting and immediately backed him up.

It isn’t just representation, merely the presence of a queer character or even an entire kingdom of gays that makes it meaningful. It’s how those characters are shown, how they behave.

Oda could have thrown in a queer character here and there and left it at that, but he went out of his way to show the incredible support system that this community provided. They jumped to Luffy’s aid. They were so supportive and cheered him on until he beat the poison. They fought alongside him… and you know what else?

When Luffy woke up, he accepted them in a heartbeat. He didn’t question anything, just saw a bunch of people and thought “huh. New friends!”

Oda’s representation is exaggerated as much as it is painstakingly accurate in nature and positive to a tee. Obviously it isn’t perfect. Iva and the squad were still mocked, called “freaks” and “weirdos.”

But it’s about Luffy. How Luffy behaves. How Luffy reacts. Even in the face of how the rest of society views Iva and his kingdom, Luffy sees them as friends and allies and doesn’t give a singular shit if they’re gay or not.

Luffy accepts everyone, and he doesn’t draw the line at queer people. The aroace king himself. You heard it here, Luffy is the ultimate ally.

Of course I’m not even scraping the surface on this topic and Oda’s representation is in no way perfect, but Impel Down remains the greatest example of queer rep that I’ve seen this far.

You gotta give credit where credit is due ✨

[rafyki]

[Valgrace fanfic]

First Valgrace fanfic!! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

Inspired by @neo-kid-funk's beautiful art and by our constant talking about angsty Leo finding comfort in Jason's arms :')

So, here it is!! Hope you like it~

You can also read it on AO3!

~~~~

If you asked anyone, they would probably say that Leo is loud and talkative, sometimes too silly and unserious, and most of the times a little annoying too.

Anyone else might get offended by something like this, but truth be told, Leo is fine with it - more than fine, actually, he likes it. He has worked hard to craft such an image for himself, after all, to make so that the people around him would see him like the funny friend who always makes jokes even in the most dire situations, the one friend who you could always count on to make you laugh.

It feels safe, being perceived like this. An easy way to hide.

Leo has learned during the year, that if you are annoying enough almost no one would bother to check if your smile is an honest one or not; almost no one would care enough to dig and find out what is hidden under it.

It hurt at first. 

Leo has smiled and laughed and made jokes while screaming inside fake, fake, fake, how can you not see it's all fake! ; holding his tears until he was alone, letting it all out only in the safety of an empty room.

It has gotten easier, with time, so much that sometimes he isn’t sure himself how much of his smile is true or fake, how much of his personality is honest and how much is just his carefully crafted mask.

Maybe he is too good at building things, and that is why no one has been able to see the cracks all over his bubbly and annoying armor.

It’s easier, thinking like this rather than thinking that perhaps, simply no one cares enough to take a closer look.

And so he smiles, he cracks jokes, and he laughs. 

And no one notices when his smile turns forced, or when the light in his eyes dims and his stare gets lost far away for a long moment.

Leo is good at pretending, and so no one notices.

He wonders now if, perhaps, he has been so busy building his armor and thinking that no one would ever bother to see past it that he himself failed to look around and check if, after all, at some point, someone arrived that has been watching more closely than he believed.

It feels weird, raising his eyes after a moment of weakness and meeting Jason's concerned ones. 

“Leo, are you okay?”

The first time it happens, it takes Leo a long moment to really register Jason's words. They sound foreign, like they shouldn't be directed at him.

“Huh, yeah, man, sure I'm okay!”

Smile, fake, pretend. He could feel something cracking underneath. And, judging by the look in Jason's eyes, perhaps he heard that too.

Jason notices. Jason looks more closely. Jason cares enough to do so. 

It is subtle, at first. Subtle to anyone else's eyes, at least, but it still feels huge to Leo.

It is a simple ‘are you alright?’ when Leo gets too lost in his own head, a concerned look thrown his way when no one else seems to notice that there is something wrong with him, a shoulder bumping into his in support.

It is little, but it is there.

It is there when Leo doesn’t know he needs it, in those moments he is so used to hiding alone somewhere and just dealing with whatever it is that was pulling him down - Jason is there and, honestly, Leo doesn’t know what to do with that realization.

Sometimes Leo needs to hide, sometimes he can’t bring himself to crack a joke and force a smile and keep the facade up, and the only thing he can do is hide.

“Are you okay?”, Jason asks, because of course he does, he always does.

Leo nods, wears his signature smile and waves a hand to dismiss the question. 

“Sure am”, he says. “I just need to go to the engine room and check some things - Festus doesn't sound too good right now”.

That's his best excuse when they're on the Argo II; no one can say anything to that, because no one understands, and it's his work to check that everything is perfect with the ship. So they don't bother him, they let him go. Easily, always so easily dismissed.

“Do you want some company?”

Leo feels a little unstable on his feet. This isn't how it's supposed to go - Jason should wave him goodbye and let him go, and then Leo could hide in his safe space and just let the mask fall for a little while.

He really doesn't have the strength to keep it up right now, it's starting to feel a little too heavy.

“Huh, you'll get bored, man”, he replies. “I'm not really all that entertaining while I work”.

Jason shrugs.

“I'm just going to keep you company, you can do your work as you always do”.

It's hard, being on the Argo. For the obvious reasons (quest to save the world, constant monsters attacks), and also for the ‘only related to Leo' issues; it's hard not to feel alone, it's hard not to feel like you could easily be replaced, like no one would even notice you're gone if you threw yourself overboard. It feels unfair, thinking of his friends like that, but the knowledge doesn't make it easier to keep the thoughts away.

It's never been easy to feel like he really belongs. He's not sure anymore he knows what it means, and he's not sure if he'll ever find out.

Jason is looking at him, and Leo wonders how many of the cracks in his armor he can see.

Leo doesn't want company.

Leo desperately needs company.

He's so used to being alone in moments like this he's not sure what he wants anymore.

But Jason is there.

And Leo nods.

Jason isn't the first one to ask, of course. But he is the first one who doesn't seem to believe Leo when he nods and replies that yeah, of course he's okay why wouldn't he be; he's the first one who seem to realize that the smile carefully plastered on Leo's lips is as fake as the belief that the Greek gods have never existed. He's the first one to take a second, closer look, and he's the first one who keeps asking.

And Leo, well, Leo is getting used to it. And maybe he likes it a little too much.

He shouldn't, knows he shouldn't, knows Jason is just that kind with everyone, that he cares for everyone, that the way he cares for Leo is no different from how he cares for any of his other friends.

He knows.

It doesn't really make it any easier.

Jason asks and, usually, Leo lies.

The lies always feel familiar on Leo's tongue, so much that he's not sure he would be able to be honest even if he wanted to.

It's so much easier to laugh it away and pretend it's nothing, rather than trying to explain to someone everything that's wrong with you. What even is wrong with him? It's been so long he doesn't even know anymore. He wouldn't know where to start in telling anyone (in telling Jason, because there's really no one else. He can be that honest with himself, at least).

So, Jason asks, and Leo smiles, and lies.

And Jason doesn't believe him.

Leo starts to lean on it. To lean on the soft words of concern, on the feeling of a solid shoulder pressed against his, on the comfort of a pair of blue eyes looking concerned at him.

He’s not sure when, but at some point lying to Jason starts to feel wrong.

It takes Leo a while to recognize the feeling - he hasn’t been feeling like this for a long while, he’s pretty sure the last person who has ever made him feel this way is his mother; it feels so weird now, but Leo finds himself wanting to be honest.

“Ehi”, Jason says. “Are you okay?”

It’s become such a familiar question now, as long as it’s coming from Jason’s lips, accompanied with Jason’s thoughtful eyes scrutinizing him. 

“Yeah, sure”. It’s a reflex, replying like this. Leo regrets the words as soon as he’s done speaking them.

They’re sitting near the canoe lake, and the Camp it’s weirdly quiet.

The war is over, they’re both alive, and Leo should feel better. He does, in some ways - it’s easier to tell himself he’s enough, it’s easier to show a smile that is a little less fake than usual.

Still, sometimes, he doesn’t, and he’s not sure why.

There are those moments when he simply deflates. Once, he would have said he needs to be alone in such moments; now, he’s not so sure.

“You don’t really look okay, Leo”.

Leo looks at him, and Jason looks back at him. It’s doing something to Leo’s heart - Leo is a little afraid it’s going to set itself on fire any time now.

It’s the first time Jason calls him out on his blatant lie.

“I…”, he starts. He’s not sure how to be honest anymore, how to take off the mask completely. “I… will be?”

It’s true, he always does feel better in the end. It still sounds like a question more than anything else.

Jason touches his shoulder to Leo’s, and this time he doesn’t move back after a few moments; he stays there, shoulder pressed against Leo’s, a solid and real comfort. Leo leans into the contact, he can’t really help it. It feels nice, like he could allow himself to fall, because Jason would be there to hold him and help him back up.

“You know, you don't have to smile if you don't feel like it”.

It hits Leo like a truck. It’s such a simple thing to say, so obvious. Right now, it feels bigger and heavier than anything. 

“Smiling is easier though”, he finds himself saying.

“Is it?”

Leo thinks that right now the only thing that’s keeping him safe is the press of Jason’s body against him.

Is it? Leo tries to remember when was the last time smiling and pretending while he felt like this had actually made him feel better. He comes up empty handed.

He leans more into Jason, wishes for a second that Jason would put his arm around his shoulders to keep him together. He wishes it so hard it takes him a moment too long to realize it’s real when Jason actually does.

But no, it really is true, the weight is real and firm, and Leo still feels like he’s going to crumble any moment, but he also feels like he doesn’t have to worry about picking up the pieces, because Jason will do it for him.

Jason pulls him closer.

His heart is definitely going to set itself on fire now, but Leo goes willingly, and finds it a little easier to breathe.

He closes his eyes, and doesn’t force himself to smile.

The next time, Leo doesn’t wait for Jason to ask.

He feels himself grow distant, getting lost in the maze of his thoughts and memories, he feels a little too outside of the chatting around him; and he feels his lips grow heavy under the weight of his smile, the mask getting harder to keep in place.

It’s a little like instinct, going to find Jason. It’s a little like fate that he finds him immediately in his cabin.

And it’s a little too easy to let himself fall on the bed against him.

Leo feels a little better just with that. 

“Ehi”, Jason murmurs, quietly.

He doesn’t ask, this time. Instead, he wraps his arms around Leo, pulls him closer and closer until Leo is basically curled in his lap, head against his chest.

Jason is sturdy under him. Safe, Leo thinks as he melts in the embrace.

He closes his eyes, and can’t feel anything but Jason around him, his hand caressing his head, his scent filling his senses.

He hasn’t been this bare around someone in years; he never realized how heavy his armor became until now, when he’s finally thrown it on the ground. Jason has taken it off of him piece by piece without Leo even realizing.

He doesn’t feel like smiling right now, but feels calm, quiet. 

The sound of Jason’s heart is the only one he can hear, and Leo almost thinks he can follow a morse code hidden in it, behind every beat.

His own flaming heart is doing the same as he runs and runs - but that code, Leo knows all too well.

His fingers start tapping it on Jason’s chest.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

Maybe, one day, he’ll be able to tell him out loud. Maybe he can give Jason some more honesty.

Maybe Jason can understand it already.

For now, he holds tighter onto him and lets himself be held.

Leo soon finds out that Jason's arms are incredibly warm and welcoming, and that it's way too easy to fall into them.

It becomes a habit, and something that Leo doesn’t want to go without. He tries to, reprimands himself every time because it’s not right and it’s not good, and it’s only going to hurt him again and again and again. And where will he even find hiding and comfort once Jason himself is the reason for his spiraling?

But Jason is always there, and Leo can’t help himself.

And so, he doesn’t even wait for him to ask anymore, he simply allows himself to let the truth show, to stop smiling and fall silent, and he leans into him. Jason is always ready to catch him.

Leo wonders if Jason has the slightest idea of what it means to him - of what he means to Leo. Leo would love to have the courage to tell him - or, better, tell him in a language that Jason understands. 

Instead, he falls into him, snuggle into his chest, and loses himself in the feeling of strong arms circling him as his heart runs around in a fire in his ribcage and his fingers tap the same hidden message on Jason’s skin.

It’s so engraved into him, at this point, that his heartbeat probably follows the same pattern, the blood in his veins pumping to that same rhythm.

Maybe that’s why it takes him a long while to realize that that same pattern is being tapped on his own arm. Jason’s fingers follow the familiar movement of Leo’s, speaking the same words that his heart screams every second of every day.

Leo feels it against his skin, and he wants to cry.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

Jason doesn’t know, Jason doesn’t understand, or he wouldn’t be doing that.

Leo lets himself feel it one more time before reaching out and catching Jason’s hand to stop him.

“What’s wrong?”, Jason asks.

For a long moment, Leo can’t find his voice.

“Stop”, he manages to say in the end. 

“Why?”

Such an easy question for such a complicated answer.

Leo wants to be honest. He desperately wants to put a fake smile on and leave. But he wants to be honest. He tries to find a joke to say, somewhere in his brain - something that would make the tension dissolve. 

It’s become way too difficult to lie to Jason though, especially when he’s holding Leo like this.

“You don’t know what it means”, he ends up saying. 

A moment of silence follows. Maybe Jason has gotten tired of trying to talk to him, after all.

“Of course I do”.

Leo stops, then turns to look at Jason.

“No, you don’t”.

Jason smiles, and Leo’s heart stops beating. There’s no way he isn’t going to set himself on fire any moment now.

“Yes, I do”.

“Then why are you doing it?”, Leo asks. He tries to move away, to put some distance between them, tries to take his armor and his mask back; but Jason keeps holding him, and keeps them out of his reach. 

“Same reason why you’ve been doing it all this time”, he says. Then adds, “Or I hope so”.

“Oh, I doubt it’s the same”, Leo scoffs. 

He hates the way Jason is looking at him right now, hates the way he himself is feeling right now. Still, he can’t help but lean into the touch when Jason cups his face - gently, he’s always so gentle with Leo.

His fingers start tapping again, slowly, like they’re engraving the pattern right onto Leo’s soul.

“Leo”, Jason says. “I’m going to be brave for the both of us if you’ll let me”.

Leo wants to say something, anything, but his voice is gone again.

Ha can feel nothing but Jason all around him, can’t hear nothing but the hidden words being written on his skin.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

The pattern merges with the spoken words as Jason says them.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

Leo still can’t find his voice but his fingers know what to do, and so they reply, carving his feelings on Jason’s chest.

It’s a little like a dream, except that Leo’s dreams are never this nice.

He hides his face in the crook of Jason’s neck, hoping that he won’t set fire to the both of them. Jason lets out a soft happy laugh and holds him closer, leaves a kiss on the top of Leo’s head.

Leo is bare and honest like he’s never been before.

He smiles, and thinks that that feels like belonging.

[celestiaras]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ head spinning, heart full ]❜

━━━ .°˖✧ requested by 🖤❗️ anon (at the end) ˚₊ ⊹

ft. hex haywire x gn! reader — xsoleil, nijisanji en

╰₊✧ hex likes to act out on purpose just so that you’ll punish him┊1.3k words

contains: smut!! dom reader & sub hex┊masochism (hex), this is pretty filthy, established relationship, bratting/brat taming, degredation, spitting (in his mouth-), edging & handjobs, bondage (shibari) & blindfolds, mentioned pictures, dacryphilia, impact play (spanking), mention of safe words, hair pulling, hella rushed ending

➤ author's note: i like the idea of a guy who is bigger than me getting bent over my lap and spanked idk you’re just as bad as me if you’re still reading┊first part inspired by this (clip)

masochist! hex haywire who will take any opportunity to rile you up with a sly smirk on his handsome face, he loves being a mischievous little shit and getting in trouble. his absolute favorite method is teasing you in public, running his fingers up your thigh, wrapping his arms around your waist, whispering about how much he wants you with his low, husky voice— anything really that was subtle enough to go noticed by others, but had you flustered and glaring at him to cut it out. he really is the worst, relentless in his pursuit to get you just as horny as he is until you pull him into an isolated corner for a quick fuck. sometimes you even threaten to chain him up in front of everyone like the mutt he was if he was that much of an attention whore, but that always gets him even more excited and enticed to continue his vexing behavior more intensely.

masochist! hex haywire who everyone thinks is in charge of the relationship since everything about him screams dominant, from his mannerisms to has people yielding for him to his towering presence that has them in his shadow. he’s so tall and handsome with a gentle and mature personality to balance out his flirtatious streaks, any synonym of “submissive” simply doesn’t feel right when he’s the subject of the sentence. however, he’s only like that in the public eye to keep up the appearances, because behind closed doors when there isn’t a soul to witness the drastic change in behavior, he’s your obedient toy who’ll eagerly take anything you throw at him with a pliant smile on his face. the contrast between him in and outside the bedroom is so drastic that it almost makes you laugh whenever you think of it.

masochist! hex haywire who likes to play innocent when you finally drag him home, pretending that he doesn’t know what you’re talking about and feigning shock you begin to tear his clothes of then tie up him up. if he really wanted to, he could fight back and turn it on you, it would be so easy to have you writing under him and apologizing for being so mean to him after he was only being playful. you both know that he won’t: he wants you to pin him to the bed, he wants you to be cruel to him, he wants you to toy with him like a ken doll, he wants you to make him suffer as punishment for trying to embarrass you earlier, and he wants you to step on him while degrading him for being a filthy manwhore.

masochist! hex haywire who can’t even express how euphoric he feels when you narrow your eyes at him and look at him like dirt, pinching his chin to force his mouth open and spit a glob of saliva on his tongue then watching him swallow it gratefully. his nude body was splayed out on the queen-sized mattress like a work of art with the ropes bound around his limbs, the ribbons digging into his flesh and wrapped around his limbs in an intricate pattern fastened with knots that resembled little roses— all topped off with a blindfold fastened securely around his head so that he can’t see a thing.

masochist! hex haywire who’s so pathetic, especially when he starts moaning like a bitch when he feels your lube-drenched hand wrapping around his throbbing cock to steadily jerk him off. he has to bite on his bottom lip to hold himself back, bucking his hips closer to your touch but being restrained from doing so much as arching his back. it felt like torture, but it exactly the way he wanted, to be completely at your mercy as you retract just as he’s on the cusp of releasing. you know him too well, able to read the signs that he’s close like words in a novel, and you always know how to make the most out of that knowledge.

masochist! hex haywire who is truly a masterpiece, shivering slightly in the cold air even though he was hot enough to have his lungs heaving for breath and beads of sweat stick his hair after all of your edging (even though the bondage made panting more difficult since he was rendered unable to move an inch). the way the red from the silk and the marks littering his skin contrasted with his blue hair as well as the focus on his angry cock slapped against his stomach with beads of pre-cum leaking out the tip from your previous ministrations. he would probably blush to look down at the sight of himself if his vision wasn’t obscured by the black piece of fabric reminding you to quickly snap a photo so that you could show him later (bonus points if it was in public to make him feel just like you did earlier in the day because of him).

masochist! hex haywire who gets exhilarated when you tug on one of the ropes around his chest to pull him over your lap, breath hitching at your hand trailing down his spine as you ask him if he remembered the safe word in place. his heart was beating impossibly fast as he nodded obediently and answered it back to you, knowing exactly what you had in store for him and allowing a meek plea to follow it to confirm that he wanted this just as much as you did. even if he wasn’t blindfolded, there was no way to see how high your hand was raised for how much force was going to be behind it. all he could do was squirm in anticipation and have you hold him still, promptly smacking your palm against his ass.

masochist! hex haywire who jolted at the sudden sensation, surprised that you had already started without edging him even more. he could hear the sound of the impact reach his ears before the strike registered in his mind, a sharp whip cracking in contrast to the dull pain beginning to form. you gently rubbed circles around the area to smooth the sting, but not without telling him to keep count because you will punish him with however many were required for him to learn his lesson. maybe about ten would be a good start, giving and taking more or less depending on his reactions.

masochist! hex haywire whose voice becomes increasingly shakier with every heavy hit, swearing and gasping while sputtering out numbers. being unable to move or see only heightened all of his other senses, able to hear the sound of skin slapping against skin and feel his flesh getting sensitive with just the third spank. he could only imagine how he looked slung over your lap and having his cock dripping onto the sheets below as his tender ass transitioned to a pretty rose color from his ivory skin, wildly blushing at the thought as he lets out a pained yet pleasurable moan with the fifth slap. you suddenly stopped your motions and tugged on his blue hair, making his eyes roll back to his skull behind the fabric as you asked him if he was ready to apologize for his bad behavior or if he was going to continue being a brat about it.

masochist! hex haywire who only chuckled in response. all he had to do was say sorry and you’ll let up? well, unfortunately for you, he isn’t going to ask for forgiveness about something he had no regrets about. you sighed at his blatant refusal, disappointed but not surprised, knowing that he was having too much fun to want to stop now. that’s okay though, the night was still young and you had plenty of energy and patience to discipline him even if it took all night. you always were able to reduce someone as stubborn as him to a crying mess that was just begging for your mercy with promises that he’ll never do it again.

request was [ i’ve seen a lot of images that hex oftenly uses that include him being tied up, and i’ve seen or heard somewhere that he likes to being tied up and suffering .. so may i req masochism with sub hex haywire? fic is completely up to you! ]