#like a sort of. oh i see. The Character has to drink to deal with their Situations.

[thermodynamic-comedian]

thinking abt that christmas special again. janus showing up already completely drunk is so. like. okay imagine you're being forced to go to an event you see no point in with people you know hate you, people who have consistently hated you for several decades, including someone you used to have a genuine connection with before they essentially abandoned you in favor of being accepted by the aforementioned people that hate you. all of that, and you have to face the man who's the literal reason for your existence, your one purpose in life, the reason you do everything you do, the person you're trying to protect above all else. and he hates you too. or at least he did, up until very, very recently, when he suddenly started validating your existence, most definitely leading to a lot of unresolved and pent up feelings being released all at once.

like yeah no i genuinely do not think she would've been able to handle that entire situation without some alcohol.

[moonstruckme]

for thawing out, i see how you've already characterized the reader as kind of the calm, even keeled one of the group and i would LOVE to just see her stand up for herself and absolutely blow up after getting pushed too far by the boys (a little mean of me to want her to go through that but-) but yes i love me a good out of character moment that kind of make the characters be like "oh shit maybe we shouldn't be acting this way-" love you babe 🫶

Hi lovely, idk if this is exactly what you had in mind but thanks sm for requesting! Love you <3

collab with @ellecdc

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11 | part 12 | part 13 | part 14 | part 15 | part 16

cw: modern au, chronic pain, implied past abuse, hurt no comfort (for some)

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 2.9k words

When Remus arrives at your apartment the next morning, Sirius is already standing at the front door. His arms are crossed over his chest as he glowers in Remus’ direction, but it’s difficult to find him very intimidating when his nose is pink from the cold. 

“Oh,” he says, feeling awkward. “Hello.” 

“Hi,” Sirius replies drily. “What are you doing here?” 

Remus shrugs. Fine. If Sirius wants to be a prick (and what else is new), he can do that too. “I didn’t think you’d come. Have you knocked already?” 

“Of course I knocked,” he all but sneers. “Why would you assume I wasn’t going to be here? I said I would be.” 

“I honestly didn’t expect you’d be able to drag yourself out of bed.” 

Sirius looks ready to make a retort, but your door opens. You look surprised to see both boys on your doorstep, your smile tentative. Remus still doesn’t understand how you can do that at such an early hour. 

“Hi,” you say. Then you turn to Sirius, grin widening as you pinch the frozen tip of his nose fondly. “You made it.” 

“Obviously I made it!” The other boy’s voice takes on a wounded tone, and Remus has to tuck a smile into his scarf. Sirius must suspect, because his gaze narrows.

“How did you get this address?” he asks Remus. 

Remus feels his brow crinkle. It’s not as if he’s the one you’re in danger of. 

“He texted me last night, and I gave it to him,” you answer for him. “I sort of assumed you’d oversleep.” 

Sirius makes an indignant scoffing noise, but he appears to have nothing more to say. He seems in especially brutish form today. You’re as unphased by his moods as usual, hooking your arm through his. 

“I’m sorry to get you both up so early, but I suppose two guard dogs are even better than one.” You squeeze Sirius��� bicep affectionately, and the look you send Remus is pure sweetness. “It’s really nice of you both to come.” 

Something warm and fond blooms in Remus’ chest. Sirius mutters some disgruntled sort of assent. 

You grin. “And now, we can all buy our own drinks!” 

“Oh, fuck this then,” Sirius’ irritating pugnacious tone is back, though now it’s at least partly for show. “I didn’t realize that was part of the deal. I want out.” 

You only make an amused pffting sound, pulling him playfully against your side. 

Remus falls back to let the two of you walk alongside each other on the sidewalk. It’s odd and occasionally entertaining to watch you, so entirely familiar and at ease with each other. It’s the sort of relationship Remus hasn’t had in years, and he’s beginning to question whether he ever had a bond quite as close as yours. It’s obvious even from the outside that the pair of you know each other inside and out, and that you love each other just as deeply. But Sirius’ love is another thing entirely; the way he looks at you is almost too painful to witness. 

Remus doesn’t understand why Sirius hasn’t pursued you. He certainly prefers it this way; it makes his job considerably easier with things platonic and professional between the pair of you, but it just doesn’t add up. Sirius strikes him as the sort of cocksure prat who goes for what he wants, every time. He’s certainly arrogant enough to be sure he’ll get it, and admittedly, with his looks and devil-may-care attitude, there aren’t many people Remus can see turning him down. (They definitely should, but they likely wouldn’t.) Perhaps, after knowing him so long and working with him so closely, you’re simply too smart to get entangled with the likes of Sirius Black. 

You do eventually look back to call Remus up to join the two of you. Sirius looks irked at this, and Remus wishes he could say he was more mature, but he goes in large part because of it. You loop your other arm through his and make sure to include him in your conversation the rest of the way to the rink. 

The morning’s practice goes by with much of the same forced camaraderie. You’re friendly and receptive, Sirius is loud and irksome, but overall Remus is pleased with how things are going. You’re improving every day, to a degree Remus can’t help but admire. He can easily see you perfecting this routine by the Olympics in less than a month, which certainly defies his expectations from when he first started coaching you. Sirius is the same as always; he’s not as consistent or as controlled as Remus would like, but he doesn’t seem inclined to change and his form is (though Remus wouldn’t admit it aloud even at knifepoint) truly beautiful to watch. 

By the end, he has only one thing to say. 

“I think we need to up the ante.” 

You look up from where you’re putting on your skate guards, intrigued. “How do you mean?”

“You’re going to perfect this routine.” Remus can say that with confidence now. A nice little bonus is the way your face lights with bashful pride when he does. “You’ll get plenty of execution points from that, but if you want to really compete it wouldn’t hurt to add a higher difficulty move.” 

Sirius looks up, his gaze watchful. 

“What did you have in mind?” you ask.

“A death spiral,” says Remus. “We could fit it in during the lower-level sequence towards the end. You should be ending with more of a crescendo anyway.” 

You’re nodding. “An outside death spiral?” 

“And backwards, if you’re up for it.” 

“No way.” Sirius’ skates are already in his bag. You look over at him, bemused, but he’s looking at Remus. “You can’t fuck with the program this late. It’s only a couple of weeks before we leave.” 

Reluctantly, Remus turns to face him. His eyes are like a brewing storm. “And would you like to medal whilst you’re there?” 

“We don’t need this to medal.” 

“You don’t know what the competition will be like. You need to bring everything you can to the routine.” 

Sirius kisses his teeth. He stands, looking at Remus with barely repressed malice. “A backwards outside death spiral isn’t something you can just toss in at the last minute. We’re only just starting to manage what we have in the routine already! It’s too risky.” 

Remus fights the urge to roll his eyes. Sirius isn’t subtle; it’s clear what this is really about. “She’s going to be fine,” he says firmly, refusing to back down when the other boy's eyes narrow. “She’s perfectly capable of deciding for herself whether she wants to do this, and your feelings cannot be the deciding factor here. The death spiral is a staple of pair routines. You have to take some risks if you want to compete at this level.” 

“Oh, do you?” Sirius’ laugh is cold and dead. “Is that what you did? If it’s so fucking easy, why don’t we get out there so you can show us how it’s done?” He juts his chin towards the ice, jaw set and eyes blazing. “You can let us see how great it works out to take risks.” 

Remus doesn’t even feel the ache in his hip as he takes two quick steps towards Sirius, towering over the other boy with his blood pounding in his ears. Sirius is forced to look up, but he turns his chin up defiantly. His face hardens as he takes in a short, quick breath. 

You cram yourself between them. 

It’s like snapping back into his body. Remus stumbles back, his hip screaming at the hurried motion. He bites the inside of his cheek hard enough to taste iron, collapsing backwards onto the bench while you put yourself in front of Sirius like a human shield. Your expression is wrathful. 

“Do not do that,” you growl. You reach behind you, taking Sirius’ forearm in your grasp as though to keep him from moving. “God, why do you both have to be such dickheads to each other? We’re done here.” 

You march straight past Remus, dragging Sirius along on your other side like a dog on a leash. He looks about as shell-shocked as Remus feels. Your outburst knocked him flat on his ass, literally. It’s not that Remus didn’t think you were capable of yelling; he suspected you had fangs, but the venom came as a surprise. 

He winces when the door bangs shut behind you. They probably deserve that. He doesn’t envy Sirius, who’s likely to get a lengthy lecture from you on the walk home, but Remus does realize this could mean him losing his job. Trading petty remarks with Sirius had almost begun to feel like part of his role, but he’d never expected to make you so furious. He doesn’t know what it will mean for him that he has. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

During the entirety of Remus’ long, steamy shower, he cannot stop thinking of the look on Sirius’ face. The way his eyes had almost changed color, going from a murky gray to blue like the hottest part of a flame. He’d looked almost pleading, for half a second after Remus first brought up the death spiral, before his face hardened back into harsh stoniness. He keeps fixating on that look, that second where the dynamic between them seemed on the brink of shifting before it didn’t. But maybe it never could have. Maybe Remus imagined the whole thing; it was only half a second, anyway. 

Regardless, he feels stupid for stooping to Sirius’ level. He’s better than that, he hopes, but in the last few weeks he’s let the other boy bring out the worst in him. He decides that if you don’t fire him, he’s going to try harder to be above it. If Sirius wants to trade insults like a child, Remus can treat him like a child; with patience and a repertoire of aloof platitudes, but he won’t engage with him anymore. 

He’s put on a pair of pajama pants and is moving the waistband to hold a pack of frozen peas to his hip when there’s a knock on his door. He leans back to peer through the window, and there you are, blowing into your hands and shivering on his doorstep. 

Remus groans as he gets up. He was really hoping to have at least one night of relaxation before having to have this conversation. 

You must stop rubbing your hands together when you hear him opening the door. “Hi,” you say. 

“Hi,” Remus replies, amused despite himself. They’re having one of those odd nights where snow falls but doesn’t stick, except to you apparently. Little white flakes are tangled in your hair and dusted across your shoulders. Remus can see some between your eyelashes when you blink. You’re stiff as a board, but there’s no hiding the tiny waves of trembles that shake your frame. 

“I hope it’s okay that I didn’t call first.” Your voice is teetering on the brink of a chitter.

“Yeah, it’s alright.” Remus really shouldn’t feel so warm towards you when you’re likely here to fire (or at the very least, berate) him, but you do look terribly cold. “Would you like to come in?” 

“Yeah, thanks.” You step inside so fast he hardly has time to make room for you, and the sleeve of your coat brushes against his bare chest, making him shiver. Remus realizes then that he’s not wearing a shirt, but he decides not to care; it is his house (or his rental, at least), and you’re the one who showed up unannounced. He’s entitled to be as underdressed as he likes. 

This small bit of indignance, though founded entirely from a battle within himself, reminds Remus to be miffed with you. 

“If you’re going to ask me to apologize to Sirius,” he says, going to the kitchen to put the kettle on (he may be miffed, but he is still Welsh), “you can save it. I have no intention of getting into a row like that with him again, but I was not the one who was being unreasonable.” 

You rub your lips together, nodding. “Yeah, I agree. You shouldn’t apologize to him.” 

Remus feels his eyebrows draw together. “Okay…good. Because I’m not planning on it,” he says, just to be sure you understand. “He was completely out of line.” 

You nod again. “He was.” 

Remus finds his eyes straying to the door while he mulls over whether he’s feeling impolite enough to ask the next logical question. Then what are you doing here?

You take in a breath, letting it whoosh out of you. “I came because I want to apologize.” 

It’s impossible to keep the surprise off his face. “You?” 

“Yeah.” You rock a bit on your feet, and Remus realizes you’re still wearing your coat. Either you don’t plan to stay long, or you’re too anxious to take it off without an invitation. “I’m sorry I shouted at you earlier. It was really harsh—I mean, I was right, but I didn’t need to be cruel about it.” You glance to the side, a bit of bashfulness softening your voice. “I also shouldn’t have called you a dickhead.” 

A little chuckle escapes him. “We were being dickheads.” 

“You were,” you agree, “but I still shouldn’t have said it. I don’t want to be like that. I’m sorry, and I hope you still want to stay with us.” 

You look back at him, your expression intentionally firm but your eyes beseeching, and some part of Remus melts. He and Sirius get into fights all the time—loud ones, with shouting and name calling and absolutely no holds barred—but you snap at them once, and here you are. Having walked here by yourself in the cold because you feel bad about it. 

“Let me get your coat,” he offers.

You take your tea to the couch, where you curl up automatically on the side opposite Remus’, pulling your legs in so he can pass between you and the coffee table. Remus picks his peas back up as he sits carefully, stifling a groan. It’s a bit embarrassing to ice his hip in front of you, but the pain has become too much to ignore. 

You wince as you watch him settle them underneath his waistband. “Is that because of me?” 

He can’t very well tell you the truth when you sound so guilty. “No,” he says. “I have to do this a lot.” That part’s not a lie. 

You nod, still looking sorry. Remus is grateful when you move on quickly. 

“Just so you know,” you say, “Sirius probably won’t apologize to you either.” 

Remus almost snorts. “Yeah, I wasn’t anticipating he would.” 

You smile ruefully. “I know he probably feels bad about saying what he did—he knows he had no right—but he just gets so caught up in anger sometimes. If it helps at all, today was just an especially hard day for him. He’s always…extra on edge around this time of year. You learn not to take the things he says personally.” 

Remus studies you through narrowed eyes. He blows steam off his tea. “Does he do that to you often?” 

You shake your head. “I don’t typically goad him,” you say with no small amount of humor. Or pointedness. 

He lifts a brow. He’s already told you he won’t be apologizing for giving as good as he gets. 

You sigh, your expression going somber. “Listen, I know Sirius can get really—” you shake your head again, blowing out a breath “—really quite hot headed, but you can’t get in his face like that. His life has—well, it’s not my place to tell you about what his life has been, but even when he says things like that, you can’t act all threatening just because you’re having a spat, okay?” 

Remus feels his brow wrinkle. “Threatening?” 

Your face softens. “You looked like you were about to hit him,” you say gently. 

Something inside Remus gutters. “I did?” 

You nod, looking almost apologetic. He feels nauseous. 

“I didn’t…” 

“I don’t think you would have,” you clarify. “I’m not saying I thought you were going to hit him, I just know how Sirius works. And from his perspective, I know how it looked. You can’t do that to him.” 

“I don’t want to do that to anyone.” Remus sounds injured even to his own ears, and so he takes a deep breath, closing his eyes to shut out the pained pinch of your mouth. 

“I’m sorry,” he says after a few moments. “I really had no idea that’s how it looked. I think I got too caught up in being angry about what he said, but it won’t happen again.” 

“I know.” Your voice is gentle. You set a hand on his knee, tentative but there. “I didn’t come here to make you feel bad. It’s okay, just…now you know. For next time.” Remus opens his eyes again, and you smile wryly. “You can shout at him all you want. Don’t let him dish it out without making him take it, but just stay away from physical stuff like that, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Remus agrees hoarsely. “Thank you.” 

“Don’t sweat it.” You give his knee a friendly pat, leaning back against the couch cushions and sipping your tea. 

Again, Remus marvels at you. Sirius fights for you every day, whether you ask him to or not, loud and bold and relentless in his devotion to you. He wonders if Sirius knows that even when he doesn’t ask, in your own way, you go to bat for him too.

[wordstome]

COD Men as Dream Daddy DILFs

Call of Duty single dads x gn!single parent reader

⤐Characters: 141 + König + Horangi + Keegan

⤐Premise: You just moved into a neighborhood with a high population of retired military personnel.

*glances at my 3-4 wips* let's talk about some dilfs, shall we? ...Don't look at me. I had a vision. (No relation to the actual characters from Dream Daddy, just a similar premise) Also a disclaimer: I'm writing these dads mostly in their late 30s to 40s, but don't think about their ages and the ages of their kids too much. This is all vibes. And sorry ahead of time if I gave one of the kids the same name as you 💀 Feel free to imagine the kid has a different name because the names really don't matter

p.s. I wanted to write more characters but I had to reel myself in. I could be persuaded to write a part 2 with Vaqueros, Nikolai, Valeria, Nikto, and other Ghosts tbh

Warning: this shit is LENGTHY. Strap yourself in.

Price: A post about DILFs and you expect me not to start with Captain John Price? Price is the lynchpin of this cul de sac. He's the one inviting everyone over to the barbecue, tries to get the dads to get along, and gives everyone advice. He has the quintessential dad energy. He 100% slaps his knees and says "well!" when he gets up. Price also has major girl dad energy. He's got three adorable little ladies, aged 3 (Clara), 9 (Brianna), and 11 (Alice). Yes, he did name his daughters in ABC order, I can see him doing that. Oh, he dotes on his girls, and they love their dad endlessly. He's the model father: recitals, sports, parent teacher conferences, you name it, he's there.

That's how the two of you meet: he comes up to you at one of the aforementioned events and gives you a firm handshake and apologizes profusely for not coming around to introduce himself earlier. It's not like him not to at least swing by, and he hopes you can forgive him the discourtesy. He hands you his number and says anything you need, just give him a call, or maybe swing by for a beer sometime. He gives you a wink that makes your knees weak, a wink that says he definitely noticed you checking out his muscled arms and broad shoulders. Maybe you will swing by for that beer sometime—and maybe get a little more than just a drink.

Ghost: I could see Simon having a one night stand kid. He certainly never saw himself starting a family after he lost his last one, but he was stressed and probably piss drunk as well. Years and years later, he's back from deployment and finds a social worker with a boy on his doorstep, and the rest is history. I love the idea of Simon with a moody 16 year old, but I actually see Simon and his son having the same dynamic as Mike and Abby Schmidt from the FNAF movie. Since Simon wasn't around for Caden's early childhood, they have a relationship that's undeniably father and son, but leaning towards casual and sibling-like. Simon's figuring his shit out, dealing with his PTSD and the various lasting health issues his time in special forces has left him with, and Caden's a quiet, sensitive 10 year old boy who thinks the world of his dad.

You meet Simon at the local bar. His Ghost days are long behind him, but the balaclava's a hard habit to kick. Besides, he doesn't need people staring at his scars. He's usually there with the 141, but today he's alone, and looks like he could use some company. You sit up at the bar close to him and order a drink, but you don't disturb him, and he visibly relaxes when he realizes you're not going to try to make small talk. It becomes a routine, the two of you: always sharing a quiet drink together at the bar, and then both of you wordlessly go home to your kids. You have a sort of silent conversation every time: Good to see you again. Yeah, you too. Neither of you actually speak a word to the other until Price introduces you to him at a gathering, and you finally hear his voice. "We've met before," he says, with a glint in his eye that suggests perhaps he'd like to be more than just a silent drinking buddy. That's fine with you: you're dying to see what's under the mask and dark hoodie.

Soap: JOCK ALERT. Johnny's basically Craig from Dream Daddy: total dreamboat who goes on runs around the neighborhood and gets all the appreciative looks from the local moms. He thrives on the attention in a way that definitely makes the 141 roll their eyes. He's got an older little girl named Elodie, and a lil baby boy Thomas that he takes everywhere with him. Obviously he's just being a responsible parent taking care of an infant, but secretly, Thomas is a great conversation starter with aforementioned local moms.

Conversely however, it's Johnny who makes the move on you first. Maybe in the grocery store, maybe at one of Price's get-togethers. Sidles up to you and introduces himself with a look in his eye that means trouble. Only the good kind of trouble, of course. If you reciprocate and he finds out you're single, you're not getting rid of him. But why would you want to, anyway? He's endlessly charming, attentive, and good with his hands. When he's fixing a leaky tap for you, of course—what did you think I meant?

Gaz: Kyle "Gaz" Garrick is a fucking heartthrob. I'm saying it right here, right now. He's a walks in with flowers, makes you dinner kind of partner. Also househusband vibes, because, surprise: Kyle is still married. This isn't a Joseph (Dream Daddy) situation, though: he and his wife, Emily, have known each other for a long time, a very high school sweethearts situation. Over the years, though, they drifted apart with Kyle in the military, and Emily eventually realized she's not actually into men. They're still married for coparenting purposes: they've got an older teenage girl named Violet, and a younger boy named Elliott. (Yes, I'm naming him after Elliot Knight, sue me.)

Honestly, I think it would be HILARIOUS if you met Kyle on a dating app and realized he's your next-door neighbor. But however you guys meet, Kyle is an old-school courter kind of guy. He is taking you on dinner dates, listening to you rant about your day, and is on your doorstep in a heartbeat when you call him in a panic because your kid's running a 105 fever (41 in Celsius) and you need a ride to the emergency room. (Not that the other dads wouldn't do the same, but I'm trying to convey "most reliable man in the world" vibes here.)

König: Y'all...you don't know how much fucken time I've spent thinking about this man as a dad. He's in the same boat as Ghost where he never saw himself living long enough to start a family, but here he is with the most precious little girl you've ever laid eyes on. Ava's got her father's curly hair and big green eyes, and she has her dad wrapped around her pinky finger. For König, Ava is living proof that he's capable of being more than just a tool for violence.

You meet König through Ava, of course. Your kids are the closest of friends, and the two of them are constantly going over to each other's houses. You're obviously delighted that your kid is making new friends and fitting in so well, but you'd be lying if your heart didn't skip a beat whenever you open your door to see Ava's six foot ten dad standing there with soft eyes and a sheepish smile. I have to stop here, because I've already written an extra paragraph for this man that I've cut out and pasted for safekeeping in my notes app, and if encouraged I will write more. (Please encourage me.)

Horangi: I know we already had a sort of Robert (Dream Daddy) figure with Ghost, but I think Horangi is a dad whose kid is an adult, much like Robert and Val. I also think that out of all the dads, Horangi is likely the one who's still doing some level of military work. Either that, or he has a very demanding job that takes up a lot of his time. He's ashamed of the way he let his gambling affect his family in the past, and is making up for it by being responsible and keeping his finances in order.

You don't meet him until you've lived in the neighborhood for quite a while, but he pops up at a gathering, talking quietly with König in a corner. You'd thought you had met every neighbor in the cul de sac, so you're intrigued by the newcomer. Someone, probably Price, tells you what Hong-jin's deal is, and ever since that you just can't keep your eyes off of him. You can't quite work up the nerve to talk to him, so you occupy yourself talking with the other parents. Some time later, you're at the food table grazing on the snacks when you look up and make eye contact with him. There's something intense in his gaze that makes you freeze, like a deer in headlights. He's definitely checking you out, you think. Your chest erupts into nervous butterflies when he starts walking towards you.

Keegan: Keegan is an adoptive father! I love his dynamic with the Walker boys, so I can see him being the kind of guy who adopts an older teenager so they have a home and a family instead of aging out of the system. Jason and Cecelia are high school age siblings who would have been separated otherwise, and consider Keegan their dad in every way that's important.

I think you and Keegan are definitely rivals in some way. Maybe it's a PTO thing, maybe he gets a little too boisterous at your kids' sports game. Whatever it is, you can't stand the man, but your annoyance whenever he's around only seems to amuse him. You have no problem saying to his face exactly what you think about him, but unfortunately, Keegan can see right through you. And hey, Cecelia could use some experience as a babysitter, so you won't have to worry about spending the night over at his place, will you?

As always, I wanna hear peoples' thoughts and feedback! If you want to hear more about these dads, drop me an ask <3

[badgalsasuke]

Continuing the re-read of Naruto Gaiden.

While at first he looks shocked to see Sarada for the first time ever

The rest of the manga he's simply not happy to see her

Like, not in the slightest. You'd think if she was the child Sasuke had with someone he loved and wasn't able to see her due to a very dangerous important mission like SS shippers claim, he'd be happy to see her, a little smile here and there at least.

He's so uncomfortable by his daughter's presence

YIKES

I find very interesting what Kishimoto did here: 1. He had to place Sarada next to Naruto and 2. he had to make sure Naruto was injured and couldn't defend himself to get Sasuke to move and become a shield for them, basically bring back the whole "my body moved on its own" instinct Sasuke has to protect Naruto to then be able to create some sort of father-daughter moment so Sasuke wouldn't look absolutely terrible as a father.

It reminds me a lot of the interview Kishimoto gave years ago about forcing Sasuke to drink the juice he doesn't like, which is basically creating scenarios where Sasuke is forced to interact with certain characters in some way. You can read more about it here

he hates Sakura's guts so bad, like damn not even containing himself for the sake of Sarada.

The difference in Sasuke's reaction when Naruto is stabbed vs when Sakura is sent to a difference dimension.

They really don't give a fuck about Sakura at all, this is so sad.

Mmmmm the hesitation. When Naruto got stabbed and said *four* times it was no big deal Sasuke was still scared shitless for him but when Sakura is kidnapped, he isn't worried (or dgaf) and struggles to talk confidently about her strength as kunoichi. If he was smirking or something it wouldn't feel like he's forcing himself to talk that way, but he still has that uncomfy face he makes whenever Sarada and Sakura are concerned.

Kishimoto really refuses to write an interaction between Sasuke and Sakura where Sasuke shows genuine care for her. Sakura also looks kind of resignated to Sasuke's treatment here.

And this is Sarada's reaction and I cannot really decipher what Kishimoto is going trying to communicate here. It's not really a smile but she's not totally sad either. She looks baffled? Is she, just like the readers, trying to make up where Sasuke and Sakura really stand as a couple? It seems like so to me.

Okay, finally for once he shows some positive emotion towards Sarada and is proud of her strength.

Oh brother, he truly does not give a fuck about Sakura. I also find it an interesting choice that we don't see Sasuke's face when he's talking about his feelings for Sakura.

Don't worry Sarada you're not the first child to come from a loveless marriage, multiple children across the world see themselves in you!

Right here I almost felt like despite not loving Sakura, Sasuke doesn't find it necessary for Sarada to pay for that and that his uncomfortable face has more to do with not knowing his child and not knowing how to act around her rather than some actual misplaced anger against her.

But then Sasuke did this, meaning he has no issues to make false promises to Sarada just like he did to Sakura and just like Itachi did to him. He doesn't feel close to her nor is he interested in strengthening their bond.

Sakura is so pathetic like you cannot even feel bad for her because she herself refuses to stand up.

Some SS shippers interpret Sasuke smirk as him liking to tease Sakura. Now, Sasuke's VA had apparently stated that Sasuke does like to deny Sakura affection as you can see here.

So if that's the case then Sasuke is not denying Sakura a kiss in a playful way as SS imagine (they like to say he doesn't like kissing her in public when Sakura had already implied they've NEVER kissed), but he's rather smirking because he's happy he's on his own again, like he rejected Sakura again plus used the forehead poke on Sarada that symbolizes distancing and false promises, it's a sensical conclusion to me.

And ofc we could not not talk about Studio Pierrot doing damage control of Kishimoto's work. In the family portrait made by Kishimoto Sasuke is the only one that isn't smiling and instead has a hard look on his face which fits his attitude and demeanor during all of Naruto Gaiden, but in the anime they have him smiling and gave him a softer look... Mmmmmmm...

[jooyeonsvape]

souls don’t meet by accident

jooyeon smut

w/c: 1.7k

warnings: very smutty, 18+ only, dry humping, fingering, suggestive language, drinking.

a/n: sorry it’s a little long at the beginning, i wanted to try building character development-ish. please enjoy and follow for more. i’ll be doing txt, svt, and more xdh soon!! if you’d like to see anything in specific, feel free to message!! also big thanks to @joocomics for helping me and being a complete angel 🫶

the body. the muscles. the long slick back blonde hair. the tattoos that cover his body.

every inch of your new neighbor makes your body warm inside, even if you were too shy to say anything to him.

the first time you laid eyes on him he was outside, shirtless, and sorting the recyclables in his trash. his tattoos took up both of his arms and some on his chest, though you couldn't make out what they were you were interested.

"[Y/N], will you stop stalking the neighbor, he's going to think we're freaks." your roommate says and shakes her head, then sitting next to you on the couch at your bay window when she noticed you weren't listening.

"but look at him... i think the only thing in his closet is sweatpants and i'm totally fine with that." you sigh out lovingly, resting a cheek on your arm.

"your last relationship was what?.... 6 months ago, you should be out there meeting new people." your roommate nags on, but you tune her out again, watching the man from across the street walk inside his house.

"okay, if i go out with you tonight will you stop sounding like my mother?" you ask and grab her hands while facing each other on the couch. "yes, and i'll buy all your drinks if you let me give you a makeover." your eyebrows raised then you look down at your long t-shirt and sweats. "okay deal."

after hours of getting ready, it was already dark and the two of you head out to the local bar she usually attends.

you look down at your outfit, blushing a bit, embarrassed because she put you in a tight strapless crop top paired with a plaid skirt and biker boots. “you don’t think this outfit is trying too hard?” you ask her and she analyzes you once more before you enter the bar. “no, you look perfect, now, when we go in i’ll introduce you to some nice guys.”

the regret soon filled your body once you walk through the doors, eyes from all around are looking straight at you. considering no one was dressed up this much, you became an eye sore and your roommate noticed your insecurities. “2 tequilas please.” she basically screamed, trying to speak louder than the music.

“alright everyone, next up is a local underground singer by the name of lee jooyeon.” a man over the mic on stage welcomed.

you turn your attention to the stage when you hear soft strums of a guitar playing and a beautiful voice singing ‘creep’ by radiohead. it was one of your favorite songs so you were mesmerized how he sang every key perfectly.

“lee jooyeon..” you whisper to yourself then your eyes squint to see better. “oh my god, that’s the neighbor.” you nudge your friend and she turns to face the stage, “let’s get closer to make sure.” the two of you find a table that was close enough to see him, but not close enough for him to see you and both confirm it was definitely jooyeon when you see the familiar tattoos littering his arms.

“can he be any more dreamy?” you ask, looking doe eyed at him on stage, not realizing a man sat next to you at the table, “hey pretty.” he smirks with confidence and you just ignore him, eyes stuck on jooyeon. he clears his throat and says it louder, “hey pretty!!” at that moment jooyeon finished the song and the whole bar heard the man next to you yelling.

your face got red when you hear laughs, then look up at the stage where jooyeon has his eyebrow raised with a smirk. the man was also embarrassed, walking away from your roommate and you.

“i’m leaving,” you mumble to your roommate but she grabs your wrist, “your crush is here and you’re leaving? you didn’t even know his name until tonight, i call that progress.” she was right so you sit back down, looking around to keep an eye out for jooyeon.

the tequila finally caught up with you after 4 more shots and you go to the dance floor when an up beat song starts playing, dancing by yourself with no care in the world. the promise your roommate made about not leaving your side was out the window, she was currently making out with a random man in a booth and you knew she was taking him home.

all thoughts about jooyeon or socializing weren’t a care to you right now, your main priority was dancing with a tequila in your hand and feeling the music. “hey pretty…” your face scrunched when you hear the familiar words and turn around to tell the man to leave you alone but you didn’t realize how close he was to you.

the feeling of breath on your neck made your body jolt and when your eyes met, it wasn’t the random guy trying to hit on you. it was jooyeon.

“may i dance with you?” he asks politely but before you could answer he held you by the hips, swaying to the music. “you’re-i’m- jooyeon.” was all you mustered out and he chuckles, pulling you closer. “i know who i am, who are you?” he smirks, taking a sip of the drink he had. “oh, my name is [Y/N].”

his head nods and his lips go close to your ear, “nice to meet you, you look really sexy in that outfit.” your face turns plum red, which he noticed of course and you put your free hand on his moist neck. “you look really sexy with your shirt off.” you whisper back, the tequila giving you all the confidence. “how would you know?” jooyeon asks and you didn’t answer, grinding slowly on his imprint.

his head hangs back so his entire neck was exposed and it gives you room to kiss his adams apple. “we just met and i already like your style.” he mumbles in your ear, then leans down to give your lips a hard kiss.

it was euphoric to finally feel what jooyeon’s lips taste like and the moans escaping his mouth when you press your knee down on his growing dick through his pants. pulling away was hard, but you wanted to look in his eyes as you were dry humping him in front of everyone.

the lip bite he did from trying not to moan was sexier than him actually making noises so you continue, looking down to see his cock outline. “you’re huge.” you mumble in his ear and he kisses your neck roughly. “should we take this somewhere else?” you nod and grab his hand, leading him towards an empty bathroom.

when the music was just background noise now you lock the door and turn to see his long frame in the light, walking towards you. “i can tell you’re excited too.” he says bluntly, the both of you looking down at the wet spot you left on his thigh.

a smile grows on your face and you start laughing, “feeling your big cock against my pussy made me wet, it’s natural.” within seconds he had you up against the wall by the neck and you hum slightly. “are you going to fuck me now?” you ask in a rhetorical manner, hearing him grunt lowly.

“get on the sink counter.” he orders without question, watching you climb up. “let me see what panties you’re wearing.” he mumbles, pulling off your skirt to see nothing underneath. “oh you came to the bar expecting to be fucked huh?” jooyeon asks, pulling your legs towards him so he could bend down and give your pussy a kiss.

“i was going to find the sexiest guy in the bar and let him fuck me until i lose vision.” you moan out when he starts sucking on your clit, a hand finding his hair so you had something to grip.

the way he works his tongue was like magic, he seems to know exactly where all your sweet spots are, and the more you moan, the rougher he is with his movements. “please fuck me jooyeon.” you’re becoming impatient and want to cum on his dick instead of in his mouth. “i thought you wanted the sexiest guy in the bar to fuck you baby,” he smirks and stands up, sliding two fingers immediately in your wetness.

“fuck the bar, you’re the sexiest guy i’ve ever seen.” you whimper when he starts pumping fast. “say it again.” he demands, his fingers never losing momentum. “you’re the sexiest guy jooyeon!” the words only made his fingers go faster, then adding a third. “again.” you scream out when he adds the third finger and he pushes them hard. “i said again.” “you’re the sexiest guy in the world.” you whimper out, a strange feeling in your gut approached and the smirk on his face scared you for what was about to happen.

three more pumps of his fingers you let out a blood curdling scream and he pulls all digits out, then fiercely rubs your clit. “good girl, you’re such a good girl.” he whispers in your ear out of breath and your hips jolt up, squirting on his hand.

you two sit there for a minute, him still slowly rubbing your clit. “i can’t believe that came out of me, i’ve never done that before.” you were pleased and surprised at how much was on the floor when you look down with your legs still spread.

“you can ask me to do that anytime you want, all i have to do is walk across the street. it’s better than just staring at me through your window.” jooyeon says with a confident laugh, helping you off the counter. “you knew? why didn’t you tell me?” you scoff, fixing your skirt so it wasnt at your waist anymore. “the same reason you didn’t tell me, it would’ve been better if we just pretended not to know each other. why else would i only come outside shirtless? i wanted to impress you.”

jooyeon gives you a kiss and you pout, looking at his still hard cock through his pants. “i didn’t get to please you though..” he wraps an around your shoulders and walks out of the bathroom, “you’ll have to come over tonight and make it up to me then.”

you can tell you’ll be having fun with jooyeon the entire night.

[pandapetals]

Poker

You and the X-Men play poker.

a/n: Inspired by @sixwingedholy art. This is my first time sort of writing for remy so hopefully it’s not out of character.

professor logan howlett x professor fem!reader - married couple, cute, fluff, teasing, no y/n used, no reader description, your an english professor, logan is a history professor - imagine days of future past logan with the white streaks in his hair

a/n: Inspired by @sixwingedholy art. This is my first time sort of writing for remy so hopefully it’s not out of character.

read on ao3 or find more parts for the series: here

divider credit: @enchanthings

"Sugar, you sure you wanna play with us?" Rogue asked with a playful smirk, her eyes sparkling with mischief as you settled into the empty chair next to Logan at the poker table.

You arched an eyebrow, matching her smirk. "I know how to play poker if that’s what you’re getting at," you shot back, already reaching for the deck to shuffle it.

Hank chuckled from across the table, leaning back in his chair with an amused expression. "I don’t think that’s what she meant," he said, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Let’s just say things can get a little… unpredictable around here."

"Unpredictable?" Remy scoffed, shaking his head as he started dealing the cards. "You mean downright chaotic, mon ami. Especially when some people don’t know when to fold." He shot a pointed glance at Logan.

Logan grunted, leaning back in his chair with a half-smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You talkin’ about yourself, Cajun?" he drawled, picking up his cards with a lazy flick of his wrist. "Because last time I checked, you were the one who lost his shirt—literally."

"Hey, that was strategy," Remy shot back, narrowing his eyes as he threw a chip into the pot. "Keepin' you all distracted, non?"

Rogue rolled her eyes, reaching over to give Remy a light shove. "Sure, if 'strategy' means gettin’ beat by a bunch of amateurs," she teased, glancing over at you with a wink. "Though I gotta say, sugar, you’ve got Logan as your partner in crime here. Don’t let him lead you astray."

Logan’s eyes flicked to you, a glint of challenge there as he took a slow sip of his beer. "Oh, don’t worry about her," he said, setting his drink down and shooting you a sideways glance. "She can handle herself just fine. Question is, can you all handle us? "

Hank snorted, arranging his chips in neat little stacks. "Bold words, Logan. But I do recall you losing quite spectacularly the last time we played. If I’m not mistaken, you blamed it on the 'damn cards.'"

Logan shot him a glare, though there was a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "They were bad cards. And that was a fluke."

"Uh-huh, sure," you said, trying to suppress a laugh as you threw in your own chip to call the bet. "I’ll believe that when I see you win a hand without growling at the cards."

Remy leaned over the table, eyes twinkling as he dealt the flop. "Let’s make it interesting, then," he said, grinning like a cat with a canary. "How ‘bout a side bet? Loser has to do something… embarrassing. Like serenading the winner."

Rogue clapped her hands together in delight. "Oh, I like that idea. I’d pay good money to hear Hank belt out a tune."

Hank’s cheeks flushed slightly, and he cleared his throat. "Well, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I happen to have an excellent poker face."

Logan snorted. "Yeah, Hank, your poker face is about as good as Remy’s ability to stay quiet."

"Hey, now," Remy protested, holding his hands up in mock defense. "My mouth keeps the game lively, mon ami. Otherwise, it’s just a bunch of serious faces sittin’ around waitin’ to lose."

You glanced at your cards, then at Logan, who gave you a barely perceptible nod. "Well, I’m all in," you said, pushing your chips to the center. "I guess we’ll see who’s serenading who."

"Big words for a rookie," Rogue teased, but there was a flicker of surprise in her eyes as she glanced between you and Logan. "You two got a plan I don’t know about?"

"Wouldn’t you like to know," you replied, feeling the adrenaline buzz through you as the chaos of the game unfolded. The cards were turned, chips were thrown, and the banter flowed as easily as the drinks.

Remy grinned, throwing in a stack of chips. "Let’s see what you’ve got, chérie. I’m feelin’ lucky."

As the final card was revealed, you and Logan exchanged a knowing look. He leaned in slightly, his voice low. "Ready to show 'em how it’s done, darlin'?"

You smirked, flipping your cards over to reveal a winning hand. "Looks like someone’s gonna be doing a little singin’," you said, your gaze landing on Remy, whose jaw had dropped in mock horror.

Rogue burst into laughter, clapping her hands together. "Oh, this is gonna be good. What song are you takin’ requests for, Remy?"

Hank joined in, a grin spreading across his face. "I’ve got a few suggestions if you’d like to start with something classic."

Remy held up his hands in surrender, shaking his head with a rueful smile. "Alright, alright. I’ll sing, but I won’t promise it'll be pretty." He looked at you and Logan, shaking his head in disbelief. "You two been plannin’ this all along, huh?"

Logan grinned, a glint of mischief in his eye. "Let’s just say we make a good team."

As the table dissolved into laughter and arguments over which song Remy would butcher first, you felt Logan’s knee bump against yours under the table—a subtle, wordless acknowledgment of your shared victory. He shot you a look, one that was equal parts pride and amusement, and you couldn’t help but grin back, feeling like the luckiest player in the room.

[lumosinlove]

Here is my first day of O'Knutzy Week! @oknutzy-week-2024

I ADORE you all for treating these characters of mine to a week of fun. I can't even put into words how much it means to me. I'm so looking forward to reading your creations!

Please enjoy tennis boys...

(There is an extremely brief and not at all graphic description of injury in the beginning.)

Finn O’Hara’s career was ended too soon by a bad knee injury. Logan Tremblay has no coach and a wicked temper that’s hard to control on the court—that is, until O’Hara steps into the picture.

On The Line - Part One

Logan was on a massage table when he saw. He’d been feeling a little stupid. He had been meant to be watching Finn’s game, studying his flaws and his strengths. Instead his cheek was pressed to the towel beneath him while someone dug their knuckles into his calf, and he was watching a bead of sweat find the corner of Finn’s mouth in a close up shot.

“This feel all right?” Hands were on his ankle now.

No, Logan thought, eyes on Finn. This feels like I’m going insane.

“Yes,” Logan said faintly. “Merci.”

Finn had his usual blue Nike hat on, and when he took it off before he served to wipe his face, Logan could see the white, salty sweat stains inside. How long had he had that hat? Logan remembered seeing it in Juniors. How many brand deals had its necessity written into it? Client insists upon…

Logan wanted that hat. He wanted to hold it.

Finn served. A perfect bullet of a thing that sent goosebumps up Logan’s shoulders, but Lupin still returned. It was second set, Finn had won the first. He was set to win this one, too.

Logan’s hotel room door opened and Logan didn’t look up. People came and went every hour of every day. This time, it was, Luke, his closest friend on tour besides Finn, and a room service cart of grilled chicken and broccoli. Logan eyed the chocolate cake slice there, too. One benefit of not having a coach or any sort of team following him around like the others did. He could eat whatever he wanted.

Luke leaned over to see his eyes. “Pascal Dumais is in the lobby. Black’s coach? I was thinking—”

“Non.” Finn was sitting in his chair now, drinking water. He turned and said something to the young ball kid holding an umbrella over him. Logan bit back a smile watching the ball kid do the same. Finn let his own grin cross his face.

Stop it, Logan thought. Stopitstopitstopit.

“He might know someone who you’d like to work with.”

“Non.”

Luke rolled his eyes. “Logan.”

“I don’t want a coach, Luke.” Logan tore his eyes away from Finn. “I’ve told you this one thousand times.”

Black served, and Finn returned, letting out a soft sound while doing it. Stop it. He’s your best friend.

“Don’t you think it could help you?” Luke asked. “Just talk to him, Tremz. Honestly, look, I certainly don’t want you getting any better. I have my own career to think about. But you’re my friend and your temper costs you thousands alone—”

There was a shout from the TV. A horrible, gut-wrenching sound that any athlete could identify. Someone had gone down.

“O’Hara runs for—” said a commentator. “Oh. Oh, oh, oh dear.”

Logan pushed himself up on his hands, dislodging the massage therapist from his back. Luke snapped towards the television, too.

“Shit,” Luke whispered.

Logan couldn’t have managed words if he tried.

Finn was on the ground, first on his back and then rolling helplessly onto his side, his hands locked around his knee. The cry had come from him. Lupin dropped his racket and ran across the court. Logan got one last look at Finn’s face before his view was blocked by the flock of medics surrounding him.

“That…does not look good,” said the therapist and began working again. Logan hardly felt the knuckles against his shoulders.

His heart was pounding. When another sound came from Finn, wrecked and in so, so much pain, Logan flinched.

The hands on his back disappeared in a flash. “Mr. Tremblay, I’m so sorry, did I—are you hurt?”

The camera caught every frantic rise and fall of Finn’s chest. Another close up. Sweat beaded on Finn’s forehead for an entirely different reason and the grimace of pain. His teeth were pressed together, eyebrows drawn. His fall had knocked the blue hat off and his dark red hair looked vivid and bright against the hard court.

Yes, Logan thought. Everything in him was on fire and begging to get that look off Finn’s face. Yes, I’m hurt.

~

Logan knew what the headline would be before he even saw it. Logan Tremblay fined $15,000 for skipping his mandatory press conference to go visit injured Finn O’Hara in hospital.

Finn knew it, too. No sooner had Logan made it through the door than was Finn throwing ice chips at him.

“What the fuck, Lo?”

“You weren’t answering your phone.”

“Fifteen thousand dollars.”

“I think I can afford it.” Logan dragged a chair over from the wall, sat, and didn’t plan on getting up until he knew Finn was going to be all right.

Finn looked exhausted, but the worry on his face was worse. His countless freckles looked stark in the hospital room light. Logan tried to see past it, into the bright eyes that had looked at him for the first time when they were sixteen. This face…Finn. Finn, who Logan had been longing for ever since.

Finn smiled weakly at him. His hands were knotted up in his sweatshirt. His knee was bandaged and elevated on a pillow.

“You could have waited an hour,” Finn said.

Logan didn’t know how to tell him no. No, he couldn’t wait. An hour would have been torture.

Finn cracked a smile. “But I guess you would have cursed out a reporter and made it twenty thousand.”

Logan couldn’t help it. He smiled back. Where he was bad with words, Finn was understanding. Sometimes Logan thought Finn could read him with just one look.

“Remember Rome?” Finn asked. “Where we met?”

Logan closed his eyes. Finn read his mind with just one look. “Of course.”

“I was dreaming about it, I think, when they put me under.”

“What, me beating you?”

Finn laughed and Logan had to look away. He reached out and brushed light fingers against the bundle of bandages.

“No.” Finn sighed and leaned his head back against the pillows. “That pool. And that wine.”

The almost kiss, Logan thought. One look at Finn, who was smiling slightly, and he knew he’d been read again.

“It was a good night,” Logan said.

Finn nodded. “Hm.” He tilted some ice chips into his mouth and crunched them. “Ended a little soon for my taste.”

Logan smothered a smile with his hand over his mouth. He wasn’t sure why they danced around it. It wasn’t like it wasn’t allowed. Male players dated female players all the time. Only, they never had to play against each other.

They listened to the buzz of the lights. A nurse came and went with water and pain medication. On top of the sheets, their hands found each other. Finn’s was cold from holding the ice and Logan encased it in his own.

Quietly, Finn said, “I think it’s over.”

“It’s not over.”

“I think it is.” Finn’s eyes were on his knee. “It’s not good, Lo. It’s just…It’s not good.”

“How long?”

“I’ll heal up okay, but…But knees are fragile and this isn’t the first time I’ve had a problem. Well, this is more than a problem, but…”

“Give it time.”

“That’s not what they told me.”

“It’s not over. Your game is too beautiful to be over.” You’re too…

Finn’s lip trembled. “Thanks.”

Logan wanted to fix it. Now. Now.

But Finn was Finn and so he let out a slow breath and tilted his chin up. “Maybe it’s okay.”

“It’s…okay?”

He closed his eyes. “I’m alone in hotels. I mean, besides my coach, besides the trainers. But that’s what this life feels like sometimes. People telling you where to go and sleeping in strange beds.” Finn looked down, then carefully back at Logan. “I love the game. God, I do. But…maybe I want something different now. I mean, a family. A…a partner.”

Logan’s stomach tightened. Finn, off somewhere, with—with someone. With someone. Someone who didn’t know him. The possessiveness that burned through Logan’s chest ached.

“It takes a specific kind of person to want to live this kind of life,” Finn said.

“Why do you think I work alone?” Logan said.

Finn huffed out a laugh. “I mean someone who’s separate from tennis.”

It was a slap. It was a knife. “Do you…do you want them to be separate from tennis?”

Finn sighed. “I want them to love me. So many players have people who follow them, and are with them, but are they with them? It’s all about the player’s dreams. Tennis. What they want. I mean, I’m racing towards…titles. Yes. And I love it but, I want to make sure I can—you know. I want to make sure my person isn’t ignored. I want it to be equal.” He looked at his knee, seemed like he wanted to speak again, but didn’t. 

Logan just held his hand and tried not to say anything stupid.

“Don’t you get lonely?” Finn asked softly. “With no coach, no team…”

“I have the game,” Logan replied. “The titles. And you.”

“Maybe me.”

“And you,” Logan said fiercely. “And Luke.” Finn rolled his eyes and Logan couldn’t help but laugh. “Why do you hate Luke so much?”

“I don’t. He’s just…always around.”

Logan laughed harder. “He’s on tour with us.”

Finn’s fingers tightened around his. “Maybe I like having you to myself.”

Logan was going to cry, suddenly and blubberingly. Finn not on tour. Please no.

Finn saw it and gave him a smile, even as his own eyes filled. “Maybe I will be your coach.”

Logan half laughed, half wiped his nose. “Think I’d listen to you?”

There was no hesitation and almost no sadness when Finn answered, “Yes.”

~

Over the next months, Logan was introduced to tour life without Finn. Luke was great, and they hit together, but he wasn’t Finn. He was too serious to be Finn, and Logan had enough seriousness all on his own. Finn, who’d dump the entire pitcher of ice water on Logan’s head just for fun. Finn, who made them take breaks to go find a nice lunch spot in a part of a city they hadn’t been before.

They spoke on the phone. For the first little while, Finn sounded miserable. In pain. But then he started to sound better. He started talking about how much time he had to read, to sleep. To actually watch the game he loved so much. He’d dissect all of Logan’s opponents for him and—and Logan was winning. A lot. It just made him miss Finn more. The money was good, but he had more than enough money. The trophies got sent back to his home in LA, but he was never home.

Logan distracted himself. He got himself up each morning and went through his routine. The hotel staff of whatever hotel he was in brought him a smoothie. He ran. He hit with Luke until Luke’s coach didn’t like how fast Logan could take apart Luke’s game. Then it was just Logan and a random hitter he’d been assigned. He ate room service and watched game tape. It only took him a week to realize he was always waiting for that knock on his door. That Finn knock. Bum-bum-ba-bum. Let’s go, Tremblay, get out of your head for a bit.

By the time four months had past, he thought he’d die if he didn’t hear it.

“I miss you,” Logan said quietly one night, eyes on his dark ceiling. It was so bad, this waiting for Finn, that sometimes that he had to pause and press a hand to his chest. He’d actually asked the physicians about it, just in case he was mistaking missing Finn for an actual problem. They had looked at him funny, told him everything looked and sounded perfectly normal.

What hurts? one had asked.

Nothing. Logan had said. I just wanted to make sure.

Now, in the cool hotel room, the rustle of Finn’s breath on the other end of the line made Logan close his eyes.

“I miss you, too,” Finn said. “A lot. Congrats against Knut, by the way. He a fucking rocket. And he’s only going to get better, what is he, twenty-two?”

“Something like that. I only barely beat him.”

“Sure, but you did.”

“Thanks to you,” Logan said. “I never play better than when we’ve talked about it.”

“Well.” Finn sounded proud. “Hey, you know, I’ll be cleared to travel soon. I might not be playing but I could—”

“Yes,” Logan said. “Please.”

Please, please, please.

Finn laughed. “You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

“Please come.”

More rustling. Finn lying down in bed?

“Okay,” Finn said. “Okay, I will.”

Logan rolled onto his side, cradling the phone close. “Hurry.”

“As fast as I can. I’ll look for hotels tonight.”

“No, don’t stay somewhere else.”

“Lo, I can afford your hotel with sponsors, but not like this. I’m not you.”

“No, I mean stay with me.”

This big, cold hotel suite. Logan wandered through the rooms, floated between the hot courts and this cold, cold marble.

Silence on the other line. Logan’s heart picked up, until he heard a breath that he was sure had a smile in it.

“All right.” Finn let out a laugh that sounded like it was covered by his hand. “Okay.”

Logan had to smother his smile in his pillow. “Okay.”

They stayed on the line for what felt like hours—probably minutes—breathing and listening to each other and nothing at all. Completely quiet, but it was the most not alone Logan had felt in weeks.

Finn arrived, suitcase and backpack and those massive headphones that used to be Logan’s. He knocked on Logan’s door. Bum-bum-ba-bum. He looked tired from the plane ride. He opened his mouth to say something, a grin on his face. It was probably going to be something sarcastic.

But Logan launched himself into his arms, clinging tightly around his neck.

Finn grunted out a laugh, but held him back. “Hey, hey.”

Finn rubbed a hand up and down his back once. When had Logan last been touched in a way that wasn’t medical? Finn’s hand cupped the back of his neck and Logan knew he went weak against him but he couldn’t help it. Finn didn’t seem to mind. He held Logan’s weight. It was the middle of the night anyway, Logan could blame it on that.

“Have you been up?” Finn asked. “You need your sleep.”

“I couldn’t miss your knock.”

Finn’s hands stilled. He pressed his fingers into Logan’s spine, right where he was always sore. “I would have…I would have banged the door down.”

Logan laughed and pulled back. He realized how long he had been holding onto him, that he was still holding on. He let go, suddenly bashful.

“I can call for food,” Logan said. “Are you hungry? I mean, come in first.” He laughed, stumbled a little as he stepped back. “Come in.”

He watched Finn drop his bags onto the floor and look around. The main living room was the size of three hotel rooms. The bedrooms were spacious and had a connecting master bath. There was a kitchenette that all of Logan’s sponsors had stocked with snacks and the various energy bars and drinks they represented. Logan hated energy bars. Grainy and chewy. He brought cups of fruit onto the court with him instead and didn’t care how unhappy it made anyone. Logan watched Finn walk around. He’d left his rooms sort of a mess. Finn avoided the various piles of sponsor clothing without comment. He touched the two Rolex watches Logan was expected to put on during post-game interviews and press conferences. Those were supposed to be in the closet safe. He brushed his fingers over Logan’s secret favorite sweatshirt which was draped over the back of the couch—it was Adidas, which he wasn’t allowed. If he ever got caught on camera in it, it would be horrible. He only wore it alone, inside. Or with Finn.

“Must be nice to be number two in the world,” Finn said.

Logan rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s okay.”

I miss you. I miss youImissyou.

Finn smiled and raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, it’s okay.”

“Shut up,” Logan laughed. “Are you hungry?”

“Yes,” Finn said.

And, suddenly, Logan had new nights. The days were the same. He left Finn with his crutches and his ice packs and his rehabilitation routine to practice and prepare for his next match. But his nights. Card games with Finn on the balcony. Get out of your head, Tremblay. We’re relaxing now. You’re with me. Video games, side by side on the couch. Dinner in the hotel restaurant, or somewhere in a city that Finn had found. Laughing so hard he couldn’t breathe. So happy that it became a blur of one day, I am going to kiss you. Please, let me kiss you one day.

That morning after he won Indian Wells, he sat poolside with Finn and everything was almost perfect.

“You know what I wish Nike would do for once?” Finn said.

“What?” Logan looked over his sunglasses at Finn.

“Dress you in your colors.”

Logan looked over at Finn and laughed. They were poolside, cooling off from a morning run back at the hotel. Well, Logan had run. Finn and his bad knee had rode beside Logan in a golf cart and shouted encouragement far too gleefully.

Now, Finn had a duffle bag in front of him and was ripping into the stuff Nike had sent over for the French Open. Red shirt. Blue shorts. White piping.

“French fucking flag.” Finn sighed. “Typical.”

“I’m French,” Logan replied. “It’s my home court, in Paris.”

“I know you are, but it’s typical.”

Logan smiled, popping another macadamia nut into his mouth. They were good. Spicy and salted. The guy that had brought them a pitcher of lemony ice water had set them down, too. “And what’s my color, then?”

Finn reached over the side table between them and pulled Logan’s sunglasses off his face. “Take a look in the fucking mirror.”

Logan snatched the glasses back. Green, he guessed. Logan rolled those eyes and Finn smiled at him.

For a moment, Logan imagined Finn bracing his hands on the sides of Logan’s hips. They’d dip into the mesh of the lounge chair and bring Finn even closer when he kissed him.

Everything was almost perfect.

Logan put his glasses back on. “Just wait until Paris,” Logan said. “It will be more red and blue than you’ve ever seen in your life.”

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

“Because I’m going to win.”

Clay surfaces were his home. What more did he need?

They flew together to Paris. Finn’s knee was healing, but Logan didn’t let him carry anything. Not his backpack, not their food for the plane.

“You’re worse than my mom was when she came to visit,” Finn said.

They were taken to a new hotel, a new grand suite. If the manager that personally showed them around gave them a particular sort of look, Logan didn’t care. Finn certainly didn’t seem to care. He spent a good part of the tour with his arm thrown around Logan’s shoulder. Forgot my crutch, he said. Need someone to take some of my weight.

Logan was still smiling about that as he made his way along the buffet station at breakfast the next morning. Finn had used the trick again. Knee’s sore, Lo, won’t you make my plate for me? Logan didn’t think he’d ever enjoyed anything more than picking out Finn’s favorites. He was so focused on finding the perfect burnt pieces of bacon that he didn’t even see the waffle flying out of tongs and towards him until it was on his plate.

“Shoot, I’m so sorry, oh my God, I didn’t…oh.”

Logan looked up and the voice—and up. Blond, was his first thought, quickly followed by blue.

It was Leo Knut. Six-foot-something, wicked serve, one-handed backhand, American. Younger than Logan. Rumored to be poised to break all the records. Logan’s, Black’s, anyone’s. And he’d be around longer to do it.

“I’m sorry,” Leo said, truly looking apologetic, and for a moment Logan thought he was talking about the records. Leo looked down at the waffle. “I don’t know if you want that, but…there you go.”

“It’s…fine,” Logan said uncertainly. “It’s fine.”

Leo smiled at him. “Okay… Hey, I don’t think we’ve officially met besides…” Me beating you, Logan thought. “I’m Leo.”

“Ouais, I know.”

Leo laughed. “Oh. Well, that’s a little dream come true for my younger self.”

Logan tilted his head. “Oh.” He was pretty used to that. And he guessed it was a compliment—even if he was technically being called old. Also, for some reason he was blushing.

“And you’re…” Leo raised his eyebrows.

“You know who I am, you just said.”

“All right…” Leo’s blue eyes looked him up and down. “Well. Enjoy the waffle. And good luck.”

“You too,” Logan said, and headed towards the orange juice.

When he got back to their table, Finn was looking at him with amused eyes.

“Quoi?” Logan asked. “Shut up, what?”

Finn laughed. “Nothing. Nothing, just…”

“Quoi?”

Finn laughed and held up his hands. “You’re a really nice person, but not many would think it upon meeting you.”

Logan blinked. He looked over at Knut, who was sitting with one of the Black brothers. “What? I was—I was nice. You don’t even know what I said, you were over here!”

“You had his statistics you were thinking about all over that pretty face of yours.”

“I…” Pretty face. “He gave you a waffle.”

“Oh-ho,” Finn picked up his fork. “Yeah, I saw what happened. Octopus limbs, that’s what that one has.” Finn cut himself some waffle. “It was kind of sweet.”

Logan stared at him. Sweet?

Blond. Blue. Sweet.

“What is his accent?”

“Louisiana,” Finn said around some bacon.

“Lou…ouais-ana.” Logan caught Finn smiling again. “What?”

“I just like the way you talk, that’s all.”

~

“Me again,” Finn said later that night, tossing down his cards with a grin.

Logan groaned. “This isn’t fun anymore.”

“Ha, why? Because you’re not winning? You gonna curse me out like you do on the court?”

Logan rolled his eyes. He offered Finn another pour of wine.

“Oo-way.”

Logan could hear the pop-pop of one of a game of table tennis from somewhere. Finn kept glancing towards the sound—even while winning.

“Do you miss it?” Logan asked quietly. He put his card down without really looking at it. He was too focused on this new, slightly unhappy set of Finn’s jaw.

“Yeah,” Finn replied. “I mean, of course. It’s my life. Was.”

Logan nodded.

“But.” He smiled slightly. “This has been…really good, Lo. Really good for me. Thanks for letting me…” Finn glanced around balcony, then over at their suite. “Be here. I’ll need to find some way to pay you back.”

“Non,” Logan said. “You don’t.”

“I do,” Finn said. “I do. I don’t mean—I mean, I pay for the stray dinner but I—”

Logan leaned forward and covered Finn’s hand with his. Their cards mingled and showed between them, but Logan didn’t care about the game.

“I don’t want your money,” Logan said. “I want you—here.”

Finn had his eyes on their hands.

Logan tried to think of a way to tell him that he’d been right. That he had been so unbearably lonely.

And then his phone started to ring.

Logan closed his eyes when he caught sight of the number. “Stupid sponsors.”

Finn cracked a smile and let Logan’s hands go. “Who?”

“My agent. Probably about…” Logan flashed the Rolex he was wearing. “I forgot to put it on last press conference.”

Finn hummed and raised his glass of wine to his lips. “Looks good on you, though.”

Logan took the call inside and blushed the entire time.

~

The crowd was on his side. It was his home crowd. France adored him. He couldn’t walk through the city without being cheered—even sometimes from passing bicycles.

Finn was in his box. Finn, who the commentators had started referring to as Logan’s unofficial coach. Over the last months, they practiced together, Finn shouting advice and commands—bolder and bolder. He ran Logan through drills that used muscles Logan hadn’t even thought of before. Logan was in better shape than he’d ever been in his life, that annoying twinge in his ankle was gone. Not better—gone.

And he was still losing this final somehow. He’d made it this far and Black was wiping the floor with him, literally. Twice Logan had stumbled and fallen into the clay. He was covered in the stuff. His back, his butt, his face. Usually, he loved that. The grit. The taste. But he couldn’t shake this humiliation. The somewhat quiet crowd. This sense that, after such perfection he’d experienced lately, it was just a fluke. That he wasn’t enough.

At one of change-overs, he used his bathroom break. His fists were clenched, his teeth grit. He knew the cameras were just waiting for him to lose it like he always did.

But Finn was watching, right next to his sisters and his parents. He needed to get to the locker room. Then he could throw something.

No sooner had he shoved the door open and stepped inside, than Finn was there. He slipped in silently. Logan didn’t know how he’d gotten in, but there he was. Wearing his old, blue Nike hat and one of Logan’s Nike shirts. He was flushed from the sun and so infuriatingly calm. Hands in his pockets. Logan was standing in a second, throwing his own hat aside.

“I’m losing it,” Logan shouted. “Every fucking shot Black takes—”

But he didn’t get farther than that.

Finn took Logan’s face in his hands, none too gently. He got close. His brown eyes were fierce. Familiar. Logan went slack and quiet in his hold. For a moment, it was just their breathing.

“Get out,” Finn whispered and Logan could feel his breath against his cheek. “of your fucking head.”

And then Finn kissed him.

His mouth was warm. There was the bitter hint of sunscreen. The sweetness of the cinnamon gum he always chewed. Sweat. Logan felt himself stumbled, surprised. As quickly as Finn caught him around the waist, Logan was clutching at his shoulders. Yes. The word sped through and made his ears ring. Finn’s hands swiped down against his neck and then gripped his shirt, pulling back.

Logan was too surprised to chase him. Finn looked down at him, breathing just as hard.

“You are going to win,” Finn said harshly. He took his hat off and put it on Logan’s head, backwards how he liked it. And he let go. He turned and walked out.

Logan stood there. He touched his lips. Finn.

Slowly, he adjusted Finn’s hat. 

Finn.

He used the bathroom.

Finn.

He adjusted the sweatband on his wrist.

Finn.

He caught sight of himself in a locker room mirror. Where his cheek had hit the clay, Finn’s fingers had wiped streaks of red clay away. Like he was still touching Logan. Like he was all over him. People would probably expect him to wash his face while he was in here.

He didn’t.

The sun beat down on him as he walked back out onto the court. The crowd cheered, maybe for him, maybe that the game was picking up again. Logan didn’t care. All he knew was that he felt lighter. He could move easier, he could breathe. Even the sight of Black, waiting for him impatiently, didn’t phase him. Some killer, mentally crushing spell had been broken. Finn had broken him back into himself.

And when he won, Logan swore he heard Finn shout first, seconds before the stadium exploded. Like Finn had so much faith in him that he could see the perfect placement of the ball on Logan’s racket and sense its spin. He probably could. Logan fell down onto his back. He squeezed his eyes shut and felt the stadium thunder for him.

Trem-blay, Trem-blay!

What a come back, what a bloody come back, the commentators were probably saying.

He shook Black’s hand. He threw his wrist bands into the crowd. He kept Finn’s hat. Finn was standing there in the players box with his arms raised, his hands fists and the widest smile on his face. His sisters beside him were jumping up and down, hugging each other.

Fucking yes! Logan saw Finn’s mouth move around the words, reading his lips. He held out one of those fists to Logan, the same one that had gripped his t-shirt not too long ago. Yes, Lo.

Without thinking, Logan started to climb towards his box. He knew they were supposed to use the stairs now, but there was no time. He had to get to Finn. He had been so tired a moment ago that his muscles shook, but he couldn’t feel that now. He needed to get to them, to reach them. His sisters. His parents. Finn, who had changed his world. His entire world. In two seconds.

He felt some of the crowd reach out and touch him, grasping his shoulders. They were still chanting his name. He swung himself over the railing, nearly stumbling once, and then he was in Finn’s arms. Finn thumped him hard on the back and then knotted his fingers into Logan’s sweaty hair.

“I knew it,” Finn whispered hoarsely against his neck. “I fucking knew it, I’m so proud of you, oh God, I’m so fucking proud of you. Lo, I can’t even breathe, you played so well. You did it, your game, oh my God, your game—”

Logan closed his eyes and let Finn wash over him.

“Thank you,” Logan whispered. “Thank you, thank you…”

Finn pulled back to look at him, palm on his cheek. He was smiling so wide Logan thought it must hurt—he also knew the same expression was on his own face. Finn, who deserved it all. This. Logan had the wild, overwhelming urge to give Finn the trophy, the prize money, all of it. It was his.

Logan was so unquestionably Finn’s.

“Lo,” Finn said. There were tears in his eyes. “Thank you.”

He thought about kissing Finn right then and there.

He was enveloped by his sisters. They screamed in his ears and he laughed, loud and delirious.

Even having to give a speech couldn’t bring him down. He thanks the people he was told to thank, and then he thanked the people he wanted to thank. The crowd, he praised in French. In English, his parents. His sisters. And then—

“And—and Finn. My—” My? So many words filtered through Logan’s mind. English, French, it didn’t matter. “Who’s supported me and—” He kissed me. He kissed me. “I couldn’t have done it without any of you. Merci.”

He met Finn in the tunnel, confetti still on his shoulders, still holding his trophy. Finn laughed, let out a long whoop that brought people’s eyes and smiles towards them.

Logan held out the trophy. “Yours, too.”

“It’s not mine.”

Kiss me, Logan thought. Kiss me again. Finn looked like he might.

Instead, Finn just kissed the trophy where Logan had and then raised it above his head with another shout. A few people actually started clapping and Finn turned towards the sound with a grin.

“Okay,” Finn said, cradling the trophy against his side. “Go get on the bike.”

Logan just stared at him. He was still breathing hard. He could feel sweat trailing through the clay on his neck.

Finn pushed the trophy back into his arms and slapped him on the side of his ass. “Hello, what’s wrong with you, get on the bike before you get stiff—”

“If you think I can do anything but be alone with you right now,” Logan said in a low voice. Finn’s brown eyes widened. “You’re insane.”

Finn’s pupils were vast and black. He wet his lips. Slowly, he smiled.

“Get on the bike,” Finn whispered. “Then, we have a party to go to. And you’re the guest of honor.”

[lovingmimiii]

Hi, could you please do General Relationship Headcanons for Loona x Male Reader? Thanks for your time!

AAAAAAAAA another request!!! Thank you so much Anon for requesting to my blog! I just want to warn you that I never wrote for HB characters but I have been watching the show so if anything seems out of character PLEASE inform me so that I can improve!! 🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎

ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩

ᡣ𐭩 General Loona x Male! Reader Headcanons! . . . 🧸

🧸ྀི ~ As we all know, Loona is a short tempered woman. She’s apathetic and shows little matters that are going around her and has a usual scowl on her face. Everyone and their mama know who Loona was before even interacting with her. So when you first saw her you pretty much wanted to stay out of her sight…

🧸ྀི ~ But Loona on the other hand—she had an interest for you. She didn’t know how to express that she might as well be pretty fond with you despite struggling to be fond of anyone else. It was a new feeling for Loona and she didn’t know how to cope with it.

Sometimes this would cause her to be more rude to you than she usually is with everyone else as to try to push you away if you ever tried to communicate with her. She hated herself for it but she didn’t know how to deal with it in any other way besides the way she is used to.

It made her feel twice as bad because you were just an innocent guy who seemed like he’d be an overall sweetheart despite the dump you’re living in. She always feels guilty about her constant lash outs towards you when truly you never did anything to make her this upset.

🧸ྀི ~ It didn’t take Loona to notice how despite how she is towards you, you genuinely believed that she wasn’t that sort of person deep down. She could tell that you were a man of patience and that sort of brought her over the edge and caused her heart to skip a few beats or so. It was quite comforting to see someone give her a chance at being able to break that stone barrier of hers.

🧸ྀི ~ Soon enough, your relationship with Loona grew from being one sided enemies. acquaintances, friends, and then a straight up couple. If took awhile to get where you guys are now but it was worth it!

🧸ྀི ~ Loona tries to learn how to communicate with you better than being an overall meanie to you :(, thank god your one patient man who knows how to deal with a woman like her.

🧸ྀི ~ Loona probably takes control over the relationship because she just has that sort of energy despite not showing it.

🧸ྀི ~ Sure, sure…she doesn’t pay no mind to her surroundings. Always on her phone and drinking…but when her boyfriend is in the room? Oh, all of her attention is on him.

🧸ྀི ~ I’d say that Loons will also try to be more affectionate towards you since you’re always so affectionate towards her.

Quick and sudden kisses are a big thing. Seeing her just suddenly peck your lips and scurry off just makes you laugh.

Maybe some acts of service are her biggest ways of showing you how much she loves you. She may be lazy but that sorta slips when you need something. i know it may seem like she doesn’t care all that much but she truly does love you and she wants you to have the best, better than she had it.

I feel like Loona wouldn’t be the one to try to plan dates and you’re always the one taking her out and stuff like the handsome gentleman you are. However, on rare occasions she’d bashfully ask you if you want to go on a date with her (Hence her cursing herself out mentally) knowing that you’d say yes anyway.

Loona will have the times where she will be protective of you. You’re most likely the best thing that has happened to her in awhile and she can’t lose you.

🧸ྀི ~ One thing Loona is grateful about is how you’re willing to take the time out of your day to put in the time and effort into allowing her to get vulnerable and intimate with you. You’ve showed her that you wouldn’t rush her into something she wasn’t exactly ready for and it brings her comfort. She feels like she doesn’t have to put on a show or rush anything with you because of how patient you are with her. To me, I think that’s one of the key things that a healthy relationship needs to have because patience can go such a long way in a relationship and it’ll build so much more trust and understanding within the relationship. So, I see this being something that Loona recognizes you for and she is happy to have a man like you in her life. Loona is willing to try to do the same act of patience with you as well because she loves you deeply and she wants to be able to share that feeling with you🤎

[blueraith]

I think there's some sort of fundamental problem a portion of the fanbase has with Show Don’t Tell.

You know, words verses action.

"The show never addresses Vi's trauma!"

Genuinely, what the fuck are y'all talking about? Pit Fighter Vi was nothing but a walking case of trauma if I've ever seen one. She descends briefly into alcoholism for fucks sake. Why do y'all THINK she was purposely allowing the shit to get beaten out of her, drink away the pain, and then repeat the next day. Some of y'all even want MORE of this fucking whump and somehow that doesn't translate as Vi literally living out her trauma in the most unhealthy way possible????

I'm literally confounded whenever I see this sentiment.

Of what about: "Caitlyn never apologizes!"

Huh????

What the fuck do y'all THINK Caitlyn was doing as she had that tender touch and look at the same spot she hit Vi during the sex scene? Or gave up her generational Council seat to a representative of Zaun if NOT to apologize for how she treated it? Or personally lead the front line defense of Piltover and lost a fucking eye for?

It's like y'all need Vi to stare directly at the audience and state "Yeah, prison fucked me up, fighting with my sister makes me sad, and breaking up with my not-girlfriend-girlfriend has sent me into a spiral that I don't know how get out of. I'm going to drink and punch away my problems until the pain becomes too much to bear, and then I'm going to risk dying in my fights to end the pain."

Evidently y'all need your hands held this much.

Or Cait: "Hello, I'm Caitlyn Kiramman, generational wealth here. My trauma and grief became out of control, and I hurt people through my own pain. I'm very sorry about that. Sorry for hitting Vi, sorry for declaring martial law on Zaun, sorry for getting mixed up with a Noxian warlord. I've given up the Kiramman seat and will use my wealth and influence to help, not hurt, for the rest of my life. Oh, I also sacrificed an eye. That was kinda a big deal to me, I don't regret it, though."

Like, what the fuck did y'all want? Even if I wanted to bother writing all that shit in character, it just comes off cringe as fuck. I'm not exactly a novice writer either, this is just frankly something Caitlyn would never do. She doesn't verbalize her feelings this way and never has.

But evidently some of you actually need Caitlyn to stand up at a podium and deliver some lame fucking apology with words for it to count in your minds. The actions don't matter, only the words do, because y'all can't recognize actions in place of words to save your lives.

This isn't even just relegated to Caitvi.

"They forgot about the sisters and their relationship!"

WHAT DO YOU MEAN??????????????

What were episodes 5 and 6 for if not the sisters and their relationship???????

What's hilarious about this one is that it comes the closest to actually just being outright verbally stated for y'all to follow and you still missed it. This whole story beat is basically a slowpitch softball being lobbed lazily at the audience to hit out of the park and some of y'all whiffed it so badly, you're cartoonishly spinning around on your back foot after your swing, Looney Tunes style.

There's an actual fucking letter Jinx reads out that's about Vander and Silco but is so obviously a parallel for Jinx and Vi that it's kind of embarrassing this is even a talking point in the fandom. The characters themselves literally even realize and see themselves in their fathers' broken relationship for fucks sake.

There's even a sibling fight and everything.

Vi basically wanted to stay at the commune with her family until Jayce showed up and fucked everything up. (For good reason.)

I do have some personal nitpicks about the sister stuff, but to say that it was "forgotten" is grossly false. Hilariously so.

Guess this is what y'all wanted:

"Hey, Jinx, I'm trying really hard to be a family with you again, prison fucked me up, and so it's kinda hard to get my mind around my new reality. Except you've been rejecting me and blowing shit up since I got out, I don't know what to do with that, so I'm spiraling."

"Well, geez, Vi, I have a whole slew of mental trauma and illnesses that are undiagnosed, so that's not helping things, but I'm also really mad that you worked together with a Piltovan enforcer after all our family has been through. I also have this whole "favorite person" thing going on that's really triggering the shit out of me that I don't know what to do with."

It's this what y'all wanted? Firstly, when is a well written and in character version of the above supposed to take place, and secondly for all that y'all bray about trauma and projecting your own responses on fictional characters (see any time someone is upset that Vi doesn't arbitrarily flinch at enforcers and Caitlyn like they think she should) don't y'all MAYBE think that neither Vi or Jinx are in a position to be this self aware about their own emotions and feelings? We're talking about two extremely traumatized young women from a mutual broken family doing the best they fucking can. It's not even close to adequate because it's not MEANT TO BE.

These things among many others are so frustrating to see the fandom nitpick. Media literacy and Show Don't Tell are two subjects being defensively criticized whenever anyone brings it up because y'all think we're using it to browbeat criticism away.

We're not. We're using it because y'all evidently are missing key plot points and then turn around and accuse the show of never addressing them. It's frankly bizarre. How are y'all watching the show? Is it on a second screen? The other room? At 2x speed? Are you on tiktok while you watch?

How are y'all missing this? And could you please rewatch the show before making these brain-dead "criticisms?" I promise I'm going to be fucking pissed if TV in the future has to have every character flat out state their emotions, motivations, and thoughts at the camera for y'all to fucking get it. This is just sad.

[ghoulfuckersincorporated]

(Sorry if this is too weird for you. You can just ignore it if you like.)

So...what's it like to drink the Ghoul's piss? I'm wondering about taste, smell, temperature, and side-effects.

*blush*

(*Homelander voice* Go ahead...let's light this candle, huh??)

Friend, when I said this blog is kink-friendly and I don't judge, I meant that this blog is kink-friendly and I don't judge. I've yet to get a single ask/question/request that's made me uncomfortable, or even made me look at it funny, and this certainly isn't the point where I'm gonna start. With that said...

The taste? Oh babe, lemme tell you, it's not good. Don't get me wrong, I don't think anyone in the Fallout universe would have inoffensive-tasting piss (chronic dehydration is too widespread and frankly these people have fucked-up diets, plus constant radiation exposure for most of them). But I fully believe that ghoul metabolic processes are streamlined to utilize any beneficial resources with maximum efficiency (chiefly, calories and water; this would fall in line with characters like The Ghoul being put into situations where they survive for years and years with no food or water). To be blunt, I don't think his kidneys are producing a ton of urine, save for the bare minimum of biological waste that comes from them simply operating.

Long story short, I think the man maybe pisses once every few days if he's had enough water, and it would be dark and STRONG, both in smell and taste.

I also have a headcanon that ghouls run noticeably hotter than regular humans due to the sheer amount of energy that gamma radiation produces. The radiation alone may not produce much measurable physical heat, but I think a human body plied with it down to the cell level would basically work as a space heater. I don't think most ghouls worry about thermoregulation in the heat.

You know what that means, though? Incredibly hot piss. Like, steaming hot even when it's not cold outside. Hot enough to make you gasp when it hits your skin, startling without actually burning you.

In terms of side-effects from contact or ingesting, I'm envisioning the same sort of deal as with ghoul cum (which I elaborated on in an almost-equally unhinged post here); it's incredibly radioactive and will make you very ill if you fuck around too much. Getting a little on you probably wouldn't be any worse than trudging through your average puddle of nuclear waste, but if you're intending to have it inside you in any way, especially swallowing it, you need to be careful. Prep with Rad-X (which reduces the amount of radiation that "sticks" to you, up to a certain point), finish up with Radaway (which removes already-accumulated radiation) if you're determined to be a piss queen or a ghoul cum dumpster. No judgement! I just want to make sure you know you're in for some pretty severe nausea, open sores/burns (especially in your mouth), bleeding from the nose, and bruising if you're not careful. We love nasty fun around here, but we also love safety.

Also, you didn't ask about this, but based on what you DID ask, I'll assume you'd also be interested in knowing what his reaction to you bringing up such things would be.

And honestly? I think you'd get essentially the same reaction from Prewar!Coop and The Ghoul.

I think he'd be hesitant. Not because he finds it too gross or off-putting or anything, but he'd worry that it'll be disrespectful to you in a way that he, as a man, shouldn't engage in (moreso Prewar!Coop), and because he's worried it could be harmful to you (moreso The Ghoul). Don't get me wrong; I think he'd certainly be intrigued, and I think you being both bold and vulnerable enough to ask for such a thing would make his head spin in the best possible way. What a display of trust! As I've said before, I think this man had (and has) lots of weird kinks himself, he just hasn't had the opportunities to explore them that he needs. Many of those kinks he doesn't even realize he has.

But even though you can see that intrigue in his pretty eyes, see the forming bulge in his pants, you may have to be persistent if you really wanna try it out. He's very firm about not doing anything that'll really harm you, and he isn't initially convinced this won't.

If I'm quite honest? Prewar!Cooper would be even more turned on by it than The Ghoul once he came around to the idea. I think it would arouse him so much to see his favorite pretty little plaything so enamored with him that they'll do anything to please him, for him to make them feel good, including debase themselves completely. I think that you being so into him that you want him to piss on you, in you, would both stroke his ego and feed his most primal, possessive urges.

Best bet to get him started? Hop in the shower with him, get him all worked up as per usual, and then drop to your knees and start blowing him. Once you get him worked up enough that he could very nearly cum, pull back and keep stroking him slowly while you beg for it. Provided you've timed things right, there's no way he'd be able to say no...just give him a second. It's difficult to piss with a massive, throbbing erection. Maybe if you played with the head (with your tongue) while he tried, that would help. Who says you have to pull away when he finally starts if you don't want to?

Hope you're ready for an engagement ring after that.

The Ghoul mostly finds appeal in how filthy it is, in seeing this clean, gorgeous young thing having to dirty themselves to survive. Eventually, fully embracing the filth because they're part of the Wasteland now, coming to enjoy filth to some degree. I think that aspect of it would really get him going. Remember that scene where he watches Lucy drink the contaminated water that ultimately makes her sick? I saw a post on here when I first started the blog (I can't find it now!) about him offering Lucy an alternative to that when she was begging for some of his water...it really awakened something in me. Enough said.

I think he'd enjoy it as much as you, when it came down to it, but I think he would also make you beg for it, loudly and fervently, every single time you want it. From the very first time, it's gonna rile him up like no other that his pristine little companion is begging him to dirty them in such a disgusting way. I don't think he'd be too keen on letting you swallow it, honestly, much like I don't think he'd be too keen on letting you swallow his cum because of the radiation. But I think if you ask pretty enough, nasty enough, he'd be more than happy to piss on you or in your other holes. Only if he knows you're set up with plenty of Radaway, though.

People don't really get "engaged", or even married anymore, per se, but if you think you're getting away from this man after you let him do that to you, you're sorely mistaken.

[shallowseeker]

Oh, the hilarious thought that Ellen and Jo both had the hots for Cas.

(((It tickles me ever since I thought it.)))

As we start the scene in 5x10, Ellen is playing music, a Spanish song, Oye Como Va by Santana.

It's a party!

(Rrr, flavor!) ¡Rrr, sabor! (Hey how it goes) Oye cómo va (my rhythm) Mi ritmo

They're playing a well-known party game, sure. They're bartenders at a roadhouse, so this is an everyday thing for them, maybe, but oh oh oh.

The interest.

Ellen is maybe like, "We'll do shots and see how drunk he gets. Who knows? Maybe it'll make him handsy."

ELLEN: All right, Big Boy. Let's go.

Now, it's true. Ellen is flirty and, like many of the prickly, defensive characters, deals professionally with innuendo.

But something tells me this isn't a game Ellen would play with Dean or Sam.

But a guy she wants to <OMITTED>? Ahem. Well. Yeah.

And Cas mimics Ellen, holding his pinky out, upending the glasses, and holding intense, challenging eye contact.

And Ellen...

This is the face of "Holy crap." But if you squint, it can also be read as "Wow." Or even "Hubba, hubba."

Yeah. No kiddin,' Cas.

So is Ellen, right in the <OMITTED>.

///

And Hell. Maybe Jo feels something, too. That's a slow, spreading, breathless-ey sort of smile that reminds me a little bit of Mick Davies.

"Whooooa."

///

ANYHOO.

The music (Santana) continues in the background while Dean and Sam talk strategy, and it's clear the music is coming FROM the kitchen, from Ellen's and Cas's little impromptu party.

We hear laughter, and Dean looks up at the sound. And yes, Jo looks scrumptious, but there's also... everyone's fawning over friggin' Cas? He's not even trying!

Cas isn't cool!

Right?

In the background, snippets of dialogue come through>>> ELLEN: "Damn, he can drink." JO: "Haha, Mom, but you need to stop." ELLEN: "Drink up!" JO: "I'm gonna get another beer."

///

Dean shoots his shot so so awkwardly that it's endearing.

(((Watch this, Cas. I'm the cool one. Women fall all over me, too.)))

///

Heehee. I love him.

///

And after all that, it book-ends with Cas giving the last-night on earth speech, but in a depressing, earnest, way.

(((Dean voice: Well, Jo. Not that anyone's asking,but it would probably-definitely work on me. Wish it'd work on one of you, though.)))

///

BONUS: The next day, Jo immediately starts pigtail-pulling Cas.

*fiddles with her hair, dons a slight smirk*

*smiley smile* Then, teasing: "Ever heard of a door handle?"

When she sees that Cas has gone into *SERIOUS MODE* she's rattled. She looks to her mom pleadingly, because...

If someone like CAS is unsettled, maybe they should be scared, too.

[greenandbreathing]

just read your maddie/caitlyn fic and ohhhh????my?? god??? life changing. i know you said you probably won’t write for them/arcane ever again (ooooo 🌀🌀🌀 you wanna write more maddie/cait fic so bad) but id love to know if you have any headcanons for their relationship dynamics 💕

hey omg thank you so much for reading !!! do i have headcanons…… oh my friend. you doubt me

(i'm gonna keep these sfw but if people want specific nsfw ones i couldddd be persuaded. speaking of which, this is the fic in question)

first of all i wanna start off with this. if you think they were ever “in a relationship” or “girlfriends” you are making your first mistake. here we have a woman who has just lost her mother and the real love of her life within a week, and then immediately she is handed more power than she even truly knows what to do with, try as she might to make it seem like she has it under control. she’s grieving and heartbroken but she doesn’t have time to manage anything  because she has a war to deal with. and then we have her subordinate, her coworker. imagine you are a girl with a raging hard on for power who has just witnessed a very hot officer ascend to leader of her house and your commander. she’s also in such a vulnerable position that it would be impossible not to offer her your shoulder to cry on. caitlyn is not herself, maddie is a horny twenty year old lesbian. i don’t believe that maddie was a traitor from the beginning, but i do think she was being remarkably selfish and did not care that caitlyn was using her. furthermore, i think she was into that part of it.

more under the cut!

THAT BEING SAID! there is nothing wholesome about what was going on between the two of them. maddie’s smart, and she feeds cait all the praise and validation she needs to create a bandaid on her heart, and caitlyn takes it all in because nobody else is around to take care of her. at a point where she has never felt more unloved, here is a girl willing to smother her. fine. 

i do think that the deleted scene where maddie approaches caitlyn at a bar and has a heart to heart with her did happen. i think that’s how it started. i think they shot the shit and had a few too many drinks and caitlyn invited maddie home with her, and it startled her the next morning when she realized she didn’t feel any regret about it, only a dull sort of. well. that happened. it was kind of cathartic? i actually think she had a spring in her step following the first time, which pissed her off because it meant for sure that this probably wasn’t going to be a one time thing. and it wasn’t. 

maddie loves it. she sees it as being useful and helpful, but she also folds so easily for a girl who will boss her around. she’s a follower to her core: when someone’s in charge, she has to be the best for them (i.e. gold star sticker — good job, maddie!) 

maddie lovesss getting to stay the night at cait’s. her sheets are soft and always clean, there’s no risk of being interrupted or overheard, and she will take every opportunity to use her fancy shower (and maybe— no, definitely— all of her expensive products. you can’t convince me that she isn’t secretly having everything showers with cait’s stuff) 

maddie is an abhorrent bed sharer— blanket stealer, toss and turner, the works. the only way cait is able to get under the covers fully is if she snuggles up to maddie, which maddie occasionally (unwisely) mistakes as genuine affection. its not, really. (although, cait will sometimes relish in the comfort a little more than she should, too. but she’s more aware of herself) 

i wish i had a clear answer on how i think maddie switched sides, but it’s so difficult to sort out in my head because i do think season 2’s writing is really flawed in a lot of ways (not an unpopular opinion), one of those being maddie’s whole character. i think ambessa manipulated her though, i don’t think maddie turned on cait on her own. if anyone has thoughts on this i’d be interested to hear them! 

[marivoid]

(TW: Dehumanization, talk of opening up a mechanical bird to empty out its stomach, fantasy racism? I guess? Martyn fears one character in this story based on appearances- You'll see what I mean.)

Entry 36

Day 229

"I told you! Ohh, look who has an upset tummy because they wanted to drink something other than clean oil?" Martyn kept a steady pace as rubbed the bird's back. "But noo, mister smarty pants wanted to drink WATER."

A defeated caw left the sickly bird trapped in Martyn's arm. Poor Brian had been sick ever since this morning. With Martyn's water bottle being knocked over and tiny claw marks all over the metal... It wasn't hard to put two and two together.

"Oh I know. I know. Water and oil don't feel nice now does it? We're going to a shop, don't worry. Get a nice mechanic to take a look at you and empty out your stomach. Then I'll get you some clean oil. Sound like a deal?"

Another quiet caw, with a hint of hopefulness. Martyn would take that response if it meant Brian wouldn't try to take off.

Thankfully the shop was just as the hostess had said. Two blocks down, take a right, and look for... The building covered in all sorts of colors. "This... Is the place we're supposed to go to, Birdy."

A very hesitant caw.

"You and me both, bud." Martyn shouldered his way through the door. "Hello?" His eyes glazed the room, taking note of the rather plain interior. A few wooden chairs, checkered tiles, tools laying about everywhere... Yep. Definitely a mechanic's office.

With nobody in sight.

"Are they closed? Oh I hope not." Martyn stepped away from the door with a small grunt. "Sorry for any turbulence on Martyn Air, Brian. We shall provide you snacks as compensation." He said in response to the flurry of caws.

"I didn't know a crow- Helllllo." Martyn's eyes flicked up to a man leaning through the door. Who just so happened to be covered in an insane amount of colors. "Are you a paying customer by chance? Did you have an appointment with Doc?"

"Doc?" The Doctor? Was he here? "No, no, no, my little friend here decided it would be a smart idea to dunk his beak in my water bottle."

Another caw, sounding apologetic.

"Oh don't apologize to me! It's your tummy that you need to say sorry to." Martyn rubbed his head with a quiet sigh. "If you can't already tell, poor Brian here needs his stomach panel cracked open and checked. Think you could help?"

The other shook his head quickly. "Not me, no can do. I work on chems and spray paints. I can see if Doc is free to help? He works with machines more than I do. He could help you a lot more than me."

"As long as he helps Brian."

The multi-colored man eventually left Martyn in the waiting room. "Well. There you go! We're getting you some help, little fella." Martyn sat down in the closest chair with a small huff. "We just gotta wait a little bit. Get the Doc to look over you. Empty out your poor stomach."

A part of Martyn's mind wondered. What... What if this was THE Doctor? Could his arm problem be solved? Could he finally embark on his way home? Was... The G.U.I.D.E even his home anymore? What about Scott? He's alive! But... He hates his guts. His stupid mouth went blabbering and rage took over... Not to forget that bird guy beside him could have been the Canary Flight Master! He had managed to piss off two people in one day! Embarrassing, really.

"Hello?" A far deeper voice lulled Martyn out of his thoughts. And oh. Oh. He wished that his thoughts would consume his mind at that very moment.

The... THING towered over Martyn by an easy two feet, if not more. (And Martyn was a proud 6"0, a height that isn't all that common in the Crashlands.) But it wasn't the towering height that threw Martyn off. No, it was the pale green skin that clung to the man like glue. The way copper clung to the man's every breath, the twitch of his hand as it rested above his shoulder- The horrific glowing red eye that seemed to bore through his soul. The horrifyingly large horns that looked so impossible and yet were possible all at once.

Martyn had seen some weird things. He'd seen a LOT of oddities and impossible things in the Crashlands. But this. This takes the cake. Whatever this FREAK was, it was a danger. And with how still Brian had gotten in his arms, his bird agreed.

"You were requesting an audience with me? A problem with your... Bird?" That voice sent a shiver down his spine and NOT in a good way.

"Y-You are Doc?" Martyn cursed the way his voice stuttered. "Yeah- Yes! Yes, Brian. He... He drank some water this morning a-and..." His grip tightened on Brian subconsciously. That hand was getting so close to his bird. And the THING noticed. And it smiled.

Fucking SMILED.

"Don't be so jumpy! I promise to not harm him." The abomination assured. "As long as he doesn't peck me, we're fine!"

Brian's small caw rung through Martyn's mind. Right. Brian. Do this for Brian. He stared up at... Doc... And let out a sigh. "Okay. Let's....If it will help out Brian."

"Yes. I think it will."

(More to be added, the author is sleep deprived.)

[johaerys-writes]

Can I ask you about the scene with Priam?

Before this Achilles is not “sleeping,” bathing, eating, or drinking as part of his mourning process. We see him holding Patroclus’ body, a no-no as the body is “unclean.” (Also, he shaves his head, rolls in dirt, passes out in dirt, etc.) I have seen some takes about how this is part of Achilles’ mourning process for both Pat and himself and how this is him sort of losing the rest of his humanity. Then just-just prior to the Priam scene, Thetis goes to Achilles to tell him to give Priam Hector’s body. Achilles just gives in without any resistance. This is around line 130. She’s like, ‘baby you got to move on from this. Go have something to eat and fuck a woman’ (some of the phrasing here is curious, but it’s not exactly the focus of my question). I always thought this quick acceptance to see Priam was a sign of his deep depression and resignation to his fate.

But then in the scene with Priam he plays proper host. He’s eating and drinking. Then he (debatable imo) goes off to fuck Briseis. It’s like he is literally doing what his mother told him to do. So why the switch from rejecting human customs and needs to engaging in “normal” behavior? As you mentioned, these old stories function differently and don’t exactly have characters arcs with lessons learned. So like wtf is going on? What are we supposed to do with this information?

No disrespect here, but sometimes I think these reversal scenes (which happen multiple times) are just one of Homer’s co-authors/editors going off and doing their own thing and there’s really no hidden meaning at all.

Okay so first of all, I think the notion of Homer's "editors" tampering with the text is a fairly popular one in some circles, I have heard a few different versions of it and I'm not sure I agree or disagree. Most classicists whose work I've read so far, and who work predominantly with Homer, tend to take the Iliad and Odyssey at face value and to automatically assume that the works are the way Homer/whoever wrote them intended them to be. And this is the way I myself engage with the Homeric works, because I think once you go "oh that part here is nonsense, it has probably been changed by those nebulous editors" then you're so much more likely to pick and choose what you like and draw your own conclusions and I don’t think that's fair to the work and the extensive body of work dealing with that work. Ykwim? So let's just say that the Iliad as a whole, and the part you highlighted in particular, are in the fact the way the original epic is meant to be.

The last few books of the Iliad, in my opinion, are the breakdown of Achilles' character. In the beginning, despite his anger and resentment towards Agamemnon, we still see him put together and civil with everyone during the embassy scene, and then again when he speaks with Patroclus, arms him and sends him forth to fight. Then, after Patroclus dies, he loses the plot and goes on his rampage, where his grace, respect and courtesy even towards his enemies fly right out the window. Even after he kills Hector and drags him around, he finds no peace. He refuses to eat, drink or bathe and still yearns and cries for Patroclus. But then, after he sees Patroclus' shade at the beach, is where the second most important change comes about if you ask me; this is when Achilles seems to wholeheartedly accept his death. We have Patroclus' funeral, then the funeral games, where Achilles seems to once again find his nobility and grace, as well as showcase how adept he is at diplomacy and handling the other warchiefs' pettiness and arrogance. Even with Agamemnon he is generous and polite, not exhibiting any resentment towards him.

But there's something different about that scene compared to all the others imo: there is not much of the energy, fire and determination we would see earlier, even when he was grieving. He gives away so much of his treasure too; my friend Baejax and I have often talked about this scene and how it feels like Achilles is giving away his wealth because he has no need for it, since he'll be dying soon anyway. This is a man that has fully accepted that hard behind glory rides death, and that it will be coming swiftly for him.

And this is how I've always seen the meeting with Priam, tbh. For me personally, that scene has always been about grief, mortality and the cost of glory (which is the most important commodity in the Iliad universe) and a meditation on the suffering which unites mankind. Achilles talks about his homeland and the father he has left behind whom he will never again see, about the pain he has caused Priam and his people, about the gods and the ultimate lack of choice that humans have. Men must suffer, he says, and must make others suffer in a world without justice.

So for me it isn’t so much Achilles embracing again the human customs he had rejected, but instead fully acknowledging the reality of his position and resigning himself to it. I don't think that Achilles "plays" the host, so much as he extends his hospitality to Priam (which, again, very important ideal in the Iliad, it's where the Trojan war started in a way. With Paris violating the Achaean's hospitality and stealing Helen), acknowledges Priam's suffering, and acknowledges how instrumental he has been in said suffering. In that scene, killer and victim become one, and with the insight into each other’s condition comes compassion. And I think that's a powerful statement, and perhaps the most enduring in the Iliad. Soon after that, the Trojans bury Hector, which foreshadows and mirrors' Achilles' funeral as well. This "double funeral" completes the Iliad, and its overarching tragedy.

Now. The thing is that Achilles is a really divisive personality to begin with, and the scene with Priam even more so. He isn’t easy to categorise or analyse, and depending on the lens through which one sees his actions and behaviours, the interpretation could change greatly. Rachel Bespaloff in her commentary On the Iliad (which I absolutely loathe and want to tear in little pieces and burn LOL) says that "to rid himself of troublesome responsibility Achilles ducks behind fatality" during the Priam scene, and that his words to the old king are "scandalous behaviour". If you ask me, this take completely ignores Achilles' own suffering and rejects his role in the Iliad as the idealistic, honourable and rigid in his honour and beliefs young hero who almost completely loses his humanity BECAUSE of the ugliness and pettiness of war, because of that suffering, because of his own grief, because of injustice, because of bad leadership, because violence simply begets violence. And it also completely ignores the larger and overarching idea in the Iliad that death and glory, suffering and good fortune go hand in hand. And that this doesn't only apply to good and noble Priam and Hector, but also (you guessed it) to Achilles, in this final scene which is a moment of shared humanity between "enemies" and one of the most poignant in the epic.

Anyway. To conclude this tangent, no, I do not believe that Achilles simply does what his momma tells him to do, nor does he wine and dine Priam for the hell of it. I believe that this is the most depressed, resigned and desolate we see Achilles in the entire poem, a man simply awaiting his death with nothing really to look forward to in life, but who still retains his humanity and treats the people around him with the dignity and respect they deserve.

I hope this answered your question!

[tbmkit]

benito camelo headcanons like i promised

ok. time for headcanons on benito camelo cause like. yeah.

he wears glasses like my friends know this is my top headcanon but he wears glasses. whether its reading glasses or long-distance ones it depends on the vibe slash i dont know because i like both so it depends tbh

i like to think his clothing style is very much "erratic grey's anatomy character" Whatever that means. getting some mid 2000s vibe tbh

hes a virgo i think... he strikes me as a male virgo for sure... his birthday is september 11th. As for his Age ? i dont know i thinkkkkk hes like mid 20s older than the player for sure but not 30s old

(more under the cut!! a lot more!!)

i like to think hes not short as fuck like no not 5'5 like his freaking Player but moreso on the tall side maybe upwards of 5'10. also hes LANKY he smokes cigarettes all the time as stated in the fawking game

speaking of which... he smokes cigarettes and drinks straight black coffee all day hes very unhealthy unfortunately but thats the price he pays for being a "stupid genius"

oddly enough i think even though hes lanky and weak as fuck i think he can shoot a mean basketball.

i think to me my "headcanoned" version of benito is vv different to canon. like appearance wise at Least. i think hes not that pale... like he looks a lil sickly i really adore when ppl draw him with some colour to him God bless

hes mexican and brazilian YES im projecting a lil... but hes trilingual hes more mexican than brazilian maybe like 2/3 mexican 1/3 brazilian but hes lived in both places and speaks both languages. Where in brazil he'd be from though? minas gerais like i cannot see him Not be from minas gerais

i also think he doesnt wear hats often SUE ME!!! i dont think the beanie suits him so he doesnt wear hats

personal self-indulgent thing but i always draw him with a half-up half-down hairstyle like s4 eren yeager but a little longer. Yes i know he has a scar. However i think he should embrace it cause hes a lil badass. Usually i draw him with brown hair instead of solid black idk man i think his hair has a nice glow to it

onto sexuality hes def bi with a male preference but is kinda in denial about it. like he flirts with men all he wants but the moment they flirt with him hes like "Oh thats gay. Really gay."

i think in a relationship with a man, hed be a bit of a princess Like thinking of jeffrey rn he would 100% do anything benito asked cause thats his princess. but if in the SLIGHT chance he were to end up with a woman, he'd still be the woman in the relationship. in either case i def see him cooking and cleaning and taking care of the bills while working overtime But also hes a total diva he needs everything to go his way ykwim

ik hes really aloof and kind of "idc about anything" but thats def just a front Like he does care. he does give a gaf. he just pretends he doesnt. i mean he doesnt like children yet he becomes emi's mother like he can be changed HE CAN BE FIXED! so i def think post-quarantine benito is more on the motherly side while pre-quarantine benito is deadbeat dad vibes SOZ....

getting onto random shit so like Gonna speedrun a few:

he likes classical music and knows a good deal about music composition and arrangements. nothing special but i think he appreciates the artistry

i think he genuinely is a doctor (since ppl like to say hes a fake doctor) but i think he just doesnt gaf like maybe his parents forced him to go to med school or something of the sort

i can see him totally being transmasc OR transfem btw like putting that out there. i can see him as either transmasc and transfem and both make sense to me

like, hes soooo cringefail tboy. but hes also tfem diva. an icon all around and either way i love it.

strong maternal instincts. almost karen level. no i will not elaborate.

i also like to think he does painting on the side. like i can totally picture him going alone to a sunny field and bringing cotman watercolours in portable painter kit (yes thats the kind of painter he is iykyk) and just painting while drinking some wine in the middle of the day.

also, he can cook well. id like to think he can cook and has a bit of an eye on how to cook well cause like, as a doctor you need steady hands, so i think hes really careful with cooking Not a master chef but he can serve a family for the holidays if he set his mind to it

he can also serve CUNT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

he cant play video games im sawrry.... but i do think he has a penchant for older handhold consoles like gameboys maybe. maybe he likes some gta and thats it rlly

hes also lowkey maybe a big movie fan like i can see him being into movies Not like obscure 20's movies but def a fan of 90s romcoms, cheesy horror movies, dramas, etc. like a big fan of 80s-90s movies.

[drabblesandimagines]

Kitty (part 6)

Parts 1-5 are available via my masterlist.

Pairings: Rei x (afab) reader Fluffy fluff, some medical jargon but nothing too descriptive! --

“Oh, back already?” Kazuki calls as you step through the front door. You can hear the sounds of daytime television drifting through. He likes to watch it when he folds the laundry.

“Yeah. Why?” Rei asks, slipping his shoes off. You haven’t spoken about the hand-holding. What is there to say, really? You mutually dropped hands as the elevator door opened, like you were afraid of getting caught. You’re trying to balance taking your own trainers off when he grabs your hand – anchoring you once more.

You smile a thanks and, again, let go as you go to greet Kazuki.

“Nothing, just curious. How was Kyu?” Rei withdraws one of the envelopes and hands it over to the blonde, who nods in appreciation.

“Fine. Nosey.”

“Nosey?”

“Asking Kitty questions.” Rei drops down on the armchair with a yawn – the late night catching up on him – and removes his phone from his pocket. “Sounded suspicious.”

“Dude, that’s his whole job.”

Kazuki turns to you as you sit down next to him, realizing he’s not going to get far with Rei who’s back to his game from earlier.

“Did you like the café?”

“Uh-huh,” you nod. “I re-remem-remembered I like c-coffee!” It’s strange rediscovering these little things about yourself. It feels momentous, like at any moment that will be the floodgate that triggers all your memories, but, really, it’s a small piece of the jigsaw puzzle. There was coffee at the house, of course there was, you served it to him every morning but you’d never taken a sip for yourself. There was enough danger in sneaking food. Water you could take from the bathrooms, greedily guzzling from the taps.

“Did you have one of Kyu’s? They’re good, right?” You nod. “I can never get Rei to try. I don’t think he has the palate.”

“Too bitter,” he grumbles.

“Well, we can enjoy the grown-up drinks and Rei can share with Miri.” The blonde teases back. Rei slouches back further in the armchair, ignoring him.

The TV blares out an upcoming promo – something about a doctor giving advice about how to live a longer, happier life. “That reminds me. Kitty, I think you should see a doctor.”

“A d-doctor?”

“Yeah. I mean, you were in that place a while and not treated well – we probably should get you checked over. There’s a clinic we use when we can’t handle something on our own – it’s no questions asked, cash in hand, under the table type stuff, but they’re legitimate doctors. I think they’d be good to give you a once over. Only if you feel okay with that, though.”

“N-no, makes s-s-sense.”

“Great! The only thing is, it’s an after-hours sort of deal so it’ll need to be an evening trip. Rei, you’ll be okay to stay here with Miri after dinner, right?”

“I can go with her.” Rei’s bolt upright now.

“You hate the doctor. Remember when you went with me so I could get a tetanus shot?”

��You screamed. I thought you were under attack.” He replies, deadpan.

“It was a big needle! I’m not sure they’ll even allow you back in after the damage you caused.” Kazuki turns to you “Plus, you’re okay to go with me, right?”

You nod - hoping you’re not hurting Rei’s feelings. It might be better to have Kazuki there too, you reason, trying to put the pieces together of their last visit.

In the afternoon, Kazuki goes to pick up Miri and Rei’s coerced you into another go of Morio Kart. You’d say you were getting better but that’d be a lie - Miri can and will beat you in a race more often than not, so you’re not sure it’s much of a challenge for Rei. The speed boosts and the drifting is the worst, you can never time it right and end up lagging behind, sometimes by over a lap. On the left-hand side of the screen you can see Rei’s character is already over the finish line and driving automatically around the course now, whilst you’re been flying off the same bit of the track for an embarrassingly long time on lap two.

“May-maybe you sh-should j-just skip. I’m h-ho-hopeless.”

“No, you’re not.” You can see him smiling to the side of you. “Here.” He scoots closer to you, looping an arm around your waist and placing his hands around yours and guiding your fingers. “Just need practice.”

You watch what he’s doing, but the angle of which his arm is seems almost unnatural. “I-is that co-com-comfortable?"

"Mm. Not really." He pauses the game a moment. “Can you scoot forward a bit?”

You shuffle forward, nearly on the edge of the sofa and he clambers behind you within a blink of an eye. His thighs are either side of your legs, his chest pressed up firm against your back. His head is above yours but he leans slightly to the side and his breath tickles your ear.

“Is this okay?”

“Y-yeah.” You’re glad he can’t see your face – you’re sure it’s now as red as Kazuki’s beloved sweatshirt.

He unpauses the game and he talks you through what he’s doing but you’re not retaining one word, his fingers are still on top of yours and operating the games controller. You can feel the bass of his voice vibrate comfortingly through your back and you let out a breath, relaxing into him.

“Kitty, are you even listening?” He asks in a teasing lilt.

“N-no.” You laugh as you say it. Saying no was still a new addition to your vocabulary, but being so close to Rei in that moment made you feel so… buoyant. He finally gets your character over the finish line.

He chuckles, lightly. “That’s okay, we’ll go again.”

He sets up a race for a solo player, and takes you through another race. You try your best to listen to him this time, to take it in, but it’s hard to concentrate when he’s so close to you…

“I think I’ve lost you again in your thoughts, hmm?” He rests his head on your shoulder as he speaks.

“S-sorry.” You speak before you can think. “No, I’m n-not sorry.”

You can feel him smile into you. “It feels nice.” He mumbles.

“It does…”

The front door opens with a bang and you jump, sliding off the sofa entirely and slipping through Rei’s arms.

“Papa Rei, Kitty, I’m home!” Miri yells.

--

“Good luck,” Rei wishes the two of you as you leave, then frowns. Is that the right thing to say before a doctor’s visit? But you give him a bright smile and a thanks, which seems to reassure him. You can tell he still feels a little excluded, but someone has to stay with Miri and he has reluctantly conceded that Kazuki is less likely to be refused entry and is probably the best to handle any medical instructions given.

The drive is quiet, which is odd for Kazuki. It’s only when you get near that he speaks up.

“It’s nice to see you and Rei hang out, you know?” He keeps his eyes on the road. “I mean, Miri’s changed him a lot, but since you've been around… He seems a bit lighter.”

“I’m g-glad.”

The clinic is on the outskirts of town and the car park’s empty when you pull up. The lights are all off, but Kazuki seems confident as he leads you to a service door around the back. He knocks on it three times and it’s answered by a burly man, who appears to recognize him. He holds his hand out and Kazuki stuffs some bills into it, before he nods and opens the door wide enough for the two of you to enter. You stick close to Kazuki and come out in what appeared to be a make-shift waiting room. There’s no-one in there at the moment, but there’s dried blood smeared across the floor under one of the chairs.

Kazuki chuckles at it, directing you to a chair facing away. “Yeah, you might see some of that…”

It isn’t long before a door opens and a tall brunette woman in a white doctor’s coat stands there, looking around. She meets Kazuki’s gaze and nods, beckoning him forward. He gets to his feet and you follow the two through down the hallway into a consultation room. She gestures for the both of you to take a seat, before shutting the door behind her. She’s no name tag on, but you think that must be deliberate. “Kazuki, it’s been a while.”

“And is that not a good thing, doctor?” He winks.

“Bad for my pockets. Who’s this?” She nods her head over to you, as she takes a seat.

“Ah, well…” He begins to relay the story for you, thankfully, as the doctor nods thoughtfully. Kazuki runs through the basics.

“And you don’t remember anything?”

“L-little bits a-a-are coming b-back.” You keep your eyes focused on your lap, hoping if you don’t meet her gaze your stutter won’t increase exponentially. “N-nothing h-h-helpful.”

“Hmm. Do you often get headaches?”

“N-no.”

“Memory loss can be a symptom of post-concussion syndrome. Any recollection of black-outs after, er, injury?”

You nod. Kazuki shifts in his seat.

“It’s hard to tell what the recovery period for that can be, unfortunately. These things might just never come back.” She twirls her pen between her fingers. “But your short-term memory’s okay?”

“Y-y-yeah. I re-member m-most th-things a-about the h-house.”

“And this stutter, have you always had that?”

“No.”

“Does it hurt to talk – your jaw, or anything?”

You shake your head. “S-sometimes, I-I feel s-sick.”

“And you,” she turns to Kazuki. “have you noticed any improvements in her speech?”

“Oh, for sure. I think you’re still nervous around new people, eh, Kitty?” You nod. “But when it’s just us, it’s getting better all the time.”

“Psychological, then. To be expected.” You like her, she’s straight to the point. You don’t want sympathy - it brings too much attention. “Any chance you could be, er, pregnant?”

You shake your head firmly.

She checks your blood pressure next – noting it’s a little low – before she checks your oxygen levels and seems happy enough.

“Can I listen to your chest?” She’s already digging a stethoscope out of a drawer and directing you. “I’ll listen via your back. Just unclip your dress and lift your top up for me.” You turn to face the wall and as you do, you see Kazuki avert his eyes to the ceiling respectfully. You unclip the dungaree straps behind you, and pull up the top. The stethoscope is cold – a cliché – as she orders you to inhale and exhale out a number of times.

“All sounds okay there. You can get dressed.”

As soon as you’re resituated, she sits down and faces you both. “So, I think we should do some bloodwork. You look on the malnourished side, so I’m sure we’re going to see some pretty severe vitamin deficiencies. I can have the tests completed in under an hour if you’re okay to wait.” Kazuki nods. “I can give you something for anxiety too, it might just take the edge off any panic you feel, help you to relax a bit. It might help the speech, might not.” She taps the pen against the desk, before she leans back in her chair. “It’s up to you whether you take them, but if you do, fair warning they’ll make you feel more anxious at first but then it’ll settle.”

You nod. You’re really hoping not to have another attack like last night. She stares at you for another minute, seeming to think something over.

“I could run x-rays to check for old injuries but, to be honest, you walked in fine and, if we found anything, there’s nothing we can do here. As you’ll know,” she looks at Kazuki, “this is usually just emergency trauma, but I understand the need for discretion in this case.” She wheels over a cart, and snaps a new pair of medical gloves on. “You good with needles?”

“I… I t-think so.”

“Mm. Look at him, not at me. I’ve no time for fainters.” She states, and you follow her instructions.

An hour later you leave the clinic, a bag of vitamins and prescription drugs in your hands and instructions for Kazuki to get more meat on your bones. The car is warm on the drive home and Kazuki’s voice is comforting – he’s running through all the meals he’s gonna make, all the nutritional benefits, but it’s getting harder to keep your eyes open and the long day is catching up on you. It’ll be fine if you just close your eyes for a second…

At some unconscious level you’re aware you’re being carried but you’re somewhere in the middle between awake and asleep and you’re so, so tired. Your eyelids feel weighed down and, try as you might, you just can’t open them and all you seem to do is snuggle further into whoever’s arms to a light chuckle. You hear a door open and there’s a voice you recognize, laced with panic.

“What happened?!” Rei.

“Easy, she’s fine. Fell dead asleep on the ride home and she looked too peaceful to wake up.” Kazuki’s voice rumbles through your cheek. “Can you take her whilst I get my shoes off?”

“Mm.” You’re passed from one warm chest to another. You should really open your eyes, stop being a burden. You do try, but it’s so hard… “What did they say?”

“She’s vitamin deficient in practically all of them and needs to put some weight on, but that’s probably to be expected. Talked about the memory loss – could be something called post-concussion syndrome? Might be temporary, might be permanent. Doctor seemed to think she’s come out relatively lucky.” Kazuki yawns. “You okay with taking her up to her bed?”

“I’ve got her.” He shifts you gently, getting a better hold. You sigh, burying your head deeper into his chest. He smells nice, comforting.

“You like her, don’t you?”

“Of course I do.” Rei bristles.

“No, Rei. I mean, you like her.”

A pause. “Yes. Is… is that wrong?”

“Of course not, you idiot. It’s sweet.”

“I care for Miri but this feels… different.”

“Not a lot of dating growing up, huh?” Kazuki chuckles.

“None.” Rei grunts. “Not my style of hit.”

“I don’t mean for a mission, I mean for… for feelings.”

“Oh.” Another pause. “None.”

“Well, you’re in luck because I have a great history with the ladies.” Kazuki winks. “I think she likes you too, though, for what it’s worth.” He yawns again. “Go on, get her to bed. You can’t stand there holding her the entire night – that’s my first bit of advice.”

The next thing you know, you’re being laid upon the soft sheets of the bed and you nuzzle your head into the pillow, missing the warmth. A blanket is tucked in over you and you exhale contentedly, somewhere between the world of awake and dreaming. There’s hot breath for a second at your forehead and chapped lips press against it far too briefly.

“Goodnight, Kitty.”

-- Part 7.