#note to self: don’t stay long at work events

[rebirthofartemis]

And that my friends is why I don’t go in the outside. With people from the inside places.

[call-sign-shark]

Of Bending and Breaking || Tommy Shelby x Reader

Summary: Always being the one who cares for others comes with a price: you break down, but the most unexpected person is here for you: Tommy, the man you were forced to marry.

Words: 2,3k

TW: Hurt/Comfort, very tiny mention of past sexual assault, no proofreading 'cause it comes from clearing my drafts.

Notes: Aunt Isabella's is a tribute to my own aunt Isabelle who, unfortunately, died because of cancer a few years ago.

It all started with Polly shaking Tommy like a tree, her thin hands firmly grabbing his nephew’s broad shoulders: “You can’t keep sabotaging yourself like this, Tom.” These were the words that left her quivering lips as she dragged his staggering frame to the bathroom and pushed his face into the bathtub right under the tap. When the freezing water splashed all over his neck, Tommy opened his blank eyes wide and inhaled sharply, as if he had suddenly come back to life. Since Grace’s awful death, the gangster was the shadow of his former self. When he wasn’t waging a senseless war with Father Hughes and the Italian, or when he wasn’t keeping his buzzing mind busy with work, Tommy usually numbed himself with a deadly combination of whisky and opium until his deep-seated pain became bearable. It was the night he almost overdosed that Polly decided to take charge of his nephew and found him a new wife, in the hope of soothing his nephew’s mind and finding a mother figure for poor little Charlie. The idea had obviously sent Tommy in a fit of anger but Polly Gray couldn’t care less.

Regarding your own situation, it was not the opium nor the loss of a dear lover that had led you to Birmingham’s most dangerous man but rather the bump in your belly. Aunt Isabella had understood what you were suffering from the moment you had stormed out of the vardo to throw up your breakfast in the nearest bush. The tall and lean woman, whose light brown and curly mane danced in the cold autumn wind, had looked at you right in the eyes and raised one of her thin eyebrows. If there was something pleasant with her, it was that words weren’t necessary.

Yet, later she encountered Polly, with whom she had been a great friend since childhood, and explained that a powerful American man had forced his seeds in you during his stay in England. Not willing to go through the traumatic experience of aborting, Isabella only saw one solution to your problem: you needed a husband who could protect you and your future baby from the evil man with his scarred lip. A wedding would be your salvation. At the realization of what Aunt Isabella had planned for you, you tried to run away from the camp in the middle of the night but she knew you too well and soon caught you, her sly hand firmly grabbing your wrist: “Y/N! It’s for your sake! He’s rich, he needs a wife and he is feared! You’ll be safe with him, don’t you understand?” She explained, cupping your face with her long fingers adorned with claws painted in red and far too many rings. “I don’t need a man to protect me! I don’t need anyone. He’s older and he’s a criminal! Who’s going to protect me from him eh? Have you think ‘bout that?” You cried, the soft light of the sunrise turning your tears into liquid gold.

But still, you wedded him and what was supposed to be the happiest day of your life turned out to be a dull event during which you dissociated the whole time. The only memories you had in mind were two piercing and frightening turquoise eyes staring right at your soul and soft whiskey-tasting lips stealing a quick peck from your cherry lips. A kiss devoid of any form of affection. And then, the groom left.

From what Aunt Isabella told you, your husband had spent most of the celebrations with his brothers, drinking and taking bets outside of Arrow House. Months had passed and still, you felt estranged to this place and its staff. The only moments your heart lightened were when Aunt Isabella visited you, or when Charlie spent time with you, otherwise you remained emotionally closed, trapped in your own mind. Overall you could not complain: You had a house far too big for you with plenty of workers willing to exhaust every one of your wishes. Charlie was a sweet boy, who loved you with all his heart even if you were well aware that you’ll never replace his mother. As for the Shelby clan, they were cordial with you without being really friendly either. And there was Tommy…

Cold and distant Tommy, who you only saw late at night when he discretely slipped under the bedsheet and turned his back to you without uttering a single word. Busy Tommy, whose replies remained concise and spoken with a quiet husky voice each time you asked him something — at least he talked to you a little bit. Trapped in a loveless marriage, that was what you were: Tommy was more a stranger, a mere gust of wind in your life, than the love of your life.

Still, the gangster stayed true to his words and he provided for everything, never refusing to give you money when you asked, and protecting you from the man who had taken your innocence. He even gifted you a wonderful stallion because he knew how much you missed riding. In exchange for his protection and riches, all you had to do was take care of Charlie and do your best to be there for your husband when his darkness threatened to swallow him whole.

You found out about the nightmares shortly after your wedding and quickly decided to do something about it. When he woke up screaming and drenched in sweat after tasting the tunnels’ dirt and Grace’s crimson blood in his troubled sleep, you always cradle him, your fingers losing themselves in his wet dark hair to pet his head gently. At first, you feared his reaction, expecting the infamous Tommy Shelby to push you and not-so-kindly ask you to keep your distance but, to your greatest surprise, he never did. Instead, he would bury his face in your cleavage, panting and trembling, and let you reassure him. Just like he let you bring dinner to him each time he drowned himself in paperwork and forgot to eat. He never commented on your cooking skills though, even if he always handed back empty plates.

The blood on his skin? You cleaned it.

The wounds of his flesh? You never failed to patched them up.

The hole in his heart? You tried to seal it off with caresses, soft kisses, and shoulder massages. Maybe one day he would slowly turn his iciness into affection. Little did you know that he needed it. And by it he needed you. Just like the whole family. How many times did you walk the streets of Birmingham at night, seeking for Arthur and then bringing him home to take care of a wasted and high him? Far too many to keep track. Similarly, you had spent countless evenings helping Ada when she felt overwhelmed, either nursing Karl or cleaning her house when, just like her brother, she overworked herself. And finally, Polly could never thank you enough for everything you did to soothe her mind after the gallows, still haunted by the bite of the hanging rope on her throat.

“Thanks Poppy.” Arthur muttered, the gravel in his voice coated with shame now that you were down clearing and disinfecting his split knuckles. The oldest brother had started to affectionately call you so for the sole reason that, according to him, you must probably grow better when blood was considering how much you had seen when patching the Shelby siblings. “Sorry for errr… For the mess.” He went on, his steel blue eyes fleeing yours.

“That’s okay.” You replied in Romani, “You, sweet idiot.” Endeared by how surprisingly soft Arthur’s harsh complexions could turn, you couldn’t help but gently put your hand on one of his cheeks. And during this tender display of affection, Arthur was convinced he had caught sight of a smile — a scarce event barely happening on your beautiful but resigned face. Comforted by the warmth of your palm, he leaned into your touch and looked at you through dark lashes, his lids half-closed.

“Tommy’s one lucky bastard to have ya for himself, eh."

"Let's both flee together then." You teased, the familiar tone of Romani language rendered even more melodious by your siren-like voice.

"Don't tempt me, little one." Arthur replied, softer than intended and probably only half-joking.

The oldest Shelby brother had barely closed the door when your smile disappeared and tears flooded your eyes. Admittedly, spending months of repressing your own anguish didn’t do any good to you despite thinking that focusing on others would have helped. Quite the contrary, all those negative emotions you had left on the back burner turned into a silent and deadly parasite that was eating you up. Dragging your tired frame to the cold and empty marital bedroom, you curled up in a ball in a corner of the room, your bruised knees pressed against your chest, “Positive. You gotta stay positive and push forwards y’see Y/N? Do the right things for the family…” You whispered to yourself as your breath started to quicken for the ball of sorrow in your throat was growing more and more. Yes, you had to smile and say that all was just fine because you knew you were lucky to be here and that you hadn’t any real reason to complain now according to the rest of the world. And yet, the truth was you were tired. So tired and overwhelmed by everything around you. With your wild soul trapped here in the mighty walls of Arrow House, you could not help but drown in an excruciating feeling of worthlessness.

You were lost in a world too difficult for you to understand. Lost and unprepared for a life that asked for too much. When you were living in the vardo with Aunt Isabella life seemed so much easier despite the lack of money and, sometimes, food. Prior to your wedding, she used to tell you that everything would become clear once you’d be a wife and a mother. You’d be an adult adult, you see? But she lied. They all lied. Even with a husband and kids, you still felt like a scared and confused child, who wanted to hide under the blanket of her warm bed and never face the world ever again. These concerns of yours? You never shared because you wanted the Shelby to keep seeing you as a reassuring presence— moreover, God knew how much their broken hearts needed your silent care.

Bringing your trembling fingers to your mouth, you muffled a first sob, convinced it would be enough to keep you from crying. What you didn’t expect was to burst into tears, uncontrollably weeping. After all this time forcing yourself to be strong, your mind had enough. As your heart-wrenching cries echoed in the room they muffled Tommy’s footsteps that were coming closer and closer. When the door flung open, you did not even move, lost in a spiral of pain and psychological exhaustion.

“Y/N?!” Tommy called you, his usual coldness swept away by a surge of panic. He closed the distance between you and him with hastened steps, and put one of his knees on the floor to be at your level, “What’s wrong, ay?” His husky voice asked, worries thickening his Brummie accent even more. You hiccuped and raised your flooded eyes towards him, parting your lips to answer. Yet, as soon as your gaze met his turquoise iris you started weeping again, louder this time. Words were at a loss by dint of never having the chance to express what you felt throughout your life. “Bloody Hell, Y/N! Speak!” Tommy hissed, his heart now drumming in his chest at the sight of his young and always-so-strong wife crumbling in bits in front of him. Never in his life, he had felt so powerless, not even in the tunnels… And, God, he hated it.

“N-nothing. I don’t… I don’t even know it’s just that— I’m so fucking tired, and lost, and confused, and afraid!” You spoke with a very fast pace, spitting years and years of repressed emotions flowing from you all the while feeling deeply ashamed of your mental breakdown. When you were done venting, you simply turned your head and waved off the topic, tears still rolling down your reddened cheeks “Anyway! You’ve got — more important things to do.”

“Stop it, Y/N,” He scolded, low voice rumbling in his chest. His strong and calloused hands, damaged by the war and hard work, cupped your face with a softness you didn’t know he possessed. For the first time in your life, his grip felt utterly reassuring as if you knew these scarred palms were not going to let you fall apart. Never. “You’re what’s important right now.” With that being said, Tommy leaned his forehead against yours and his enchanting eyes soon met yours to force you to focus on nothing else but the vast blue oceans which composed them. “I want you to calm down.”

“I can’t, I can’t—“ You tried to speak but you couldn’t, struggling to breathe under the crushing weight of your panic attack. Your mouth gaped, looking for the oxygen it couldn’t find.

“Oi!” Tommy said louder. So loud that his voice managed to overcome the cacophony of your beating heart and the buzzing sound of your anxiety that filled your head, “I want you to breathe with me, Y/N. Alright? You can do that for me, ay?” He asked, his eyebrows slightly frowned and charming crowfeet appearing at the corner of his eyes — how odd it was to see Tommy’s face veiled with something else than unsettling placidity. Caught off guard by the sudden realization of how close he was, you quieted down a little bit and soon followed the pattern of his breathing.

One long inhale through the nose, one longer exhale through the mouth, and a short pose.

Do it again.

Your shaky hands slowly grabbed his wrists in a desperate attempt to anchor you to reality. This, as well as the focus you had on his mesmerizing complexions.

His long dark lashes — you inhaled slowly.

His cat-like turquoise iris — you exhaled.

His salient cheekbones — You stopped breathing for a very short while.

The myriad of freckles — “Breathe with me, Y/N.”

The soft, hoarse lilt guided you through the dark and thick fog of your own brain, just like a lighthouse. Coming back to clearer waters, your body finally relaxed and fell almost limp in his arms. And once again he caught you, keeping you all safe against his chest. Tommy’s voice, low and steady, resonated one last time in the bedroom with a reassuring warmth as he uttered the simple yet powerful phrase, "I'm here." Each word carefully enunciated, carrying a quiet strength that soothed and reassured, like a comforting anchor in a stormy sea.

Keep your writers motivated: Reblog and/or comment if you liked it, you filthy animal! o/ English is not my first language btw.

Taglist: @adaydreamaway08 @theshelbyclan @jomarch-wannabe @esposadomd @zablife @woofgocows @anathemasworld @anastasia000 @kate654 @kxnnxy @babayaga67 @meowtastick @shelbyssins @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @bluevenus19 @raincoffeeandfandoms @kishie8 @zablife @alexandra-001 @dearshelby @alexizodd @helen06dreamer @kmc1989 @emotionalcadaver @peakyswritings @peakyltd @chaosinkest1996 @vanhelsingsbigtoe @red-riding-wood

[buckys-wintersoldier]

His forever and ever

// Prologue //

// Pairing //

-> (Ex-)Boyfriend!Mob!Bucky Barnes x (Ex-)Girlfriend!Reader

// Summary //

-> Your mobster sees you as self-evident so as much as that hurts you decide to move on — without his broken promises, without him.

// Wordcount //

-> 4.296 Words

// Warnings // Teen

-> Angst, Bucky being an idiot, anger issues, manipulation, break-up

// Authors Note //

-> The biggest thank you to the amazing @bucks-babe for proofreading and coming up with more details.

// Events //

-> Fandom-Free Bingo: Book Night | B2 | ‘Stay with me’ | @fandom-free-bingo

// Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist //

// Series Masterlist //

When you walk through the long corridors of your shared mansion you have a huge smile across your lips. Bucky planned to work for just a few more minutes and then the two of you wanted to go out, something you haven’t done in a while since Bucky was always busy with his work.

As a mobster he has a lot to do, especially since Rumlow tried to pretend it’s his town — just moving there and acting like he owns it. Like he owns Bucky’s town. So Bucky has a lot of business to do so there is not too much time for the two of you. But he promised that he will find some time for just the two of you tonight.

You walk to his office, knocking at his door until you hear his rough voice from the inside. With a soft chuckle you open the door, walking inside before you close the door behind you. Bucky doesn’t look up from his computer, his eyes narrowed and he groans annoyed while he stares at the screen.

“What is it? Don’t ya see I’m busy,” Bucky growls, annoyed that someone dares to interrupt him during work. He huffs, rolling his eyes when you stay quiet, he looks up at you and his expression immediately changes.

He smirks at you, his blue eyes carrying nothing but love and adoration, while he moves the chair a bit away from his desk. “Doll, what ya doin’ here?”

Now it’s on you to roll your eyes, playfully. You slowly walk through the room and around his table, standing close to him but instead of sitting on his lap you push the things on the table away and sit down on top of it. Bucky chuckles, loving your attitude even when it’s just pushing his work stuff away to make space for you to sit on his table.

He comes closer again, placing his hands on your thighs, his thumbs rubbing softly over them and he is looking slightly up. The grin on your face causes him to smirk even wider, his eyes light up and you could get lost in them like you could always do.

When you feel in love with him because he is such a charming, loving and sweet man, but he also has the most perfect blue eyes, the most adorable smile and he reserves it for you — his sweet side belongs to you, no one else gets to see it like you do.

“What’s up, dragǎ mea?” He asks with the sweetest tone possible. The name slips over his lips so easily and causes a tingling feeling in your lower stomach. Your heart beats a bit faster whenever he calls you that even though you thought you would be used to him calling you that.

“You wanted to finish work earlier today so we can go out,” you mumble, fingers sliding through his hair and you play softly with his long, soft brown hair. He sighs softly when you touch him, then he closes his eyes for a moment.

When he opens them again, he grasps both your wrists, holding your smaller hands in his big ones and caressing your soft skin in smooth movements with his thumbs. You growl a bit, knowing that he will excuse himself once again and that you will spend the rest of the day doing whatever you get in mind then. Your boyfriend is once again too busy and he will find an excuse like he always does.

“I’m sorry. It’s just so much to do right now with Rum—“ he gets interrupted when you shake your head, letting your face fall forward to avoid his intense stare. He doesn’t have to see that you’re almost crying just because he doesn’t have time right now — like always.

“Oke,” you say, quietly, knowing that he understands you. You wiggle your hands out of his grip and jump off the table, turning around without looking at Bucky or saying another word to him. You can hear his sigh, but you just walk back to the door.

Just as you open it you hear him clearing his throat. For a moment a little bit of hope that he could take some time for the two of you. But even though there is a bit of hope you know that he won’t change his mind, he wants to finish work.

“Te iubesc, dragǎ mea,” he says, soft and lovely and it breaks your heart once against into tiny little pieces. With a soft smile you turn around to face Bucky, hoping he isn’t going to look into your eyes because when he does he will see that the smile is anything but real.

The way his smirk fades away tells you he’s looking into your eyes, even though you’re standing a bit distanced from him. Bucky can read you like a book and he just needs to look into your eyes and he can tell what you think, what you feel and how you feel about situations. Like he does right now, knowing that he hurt you even though he didn’t want to hurt you.

“How about we go out tomorrow?” Bucky asks, trying to smile a bit to cheer you up. He knows he messed up because he promises you every day that you’re going out the next day but every time he is busy and can’t go out then. “I know I said that the last weeks but it’s important to—“

“It’s fine, James. You need to do your work and I’m not going to distract you. I don’t want to bother you, your work looks really important” you say, his name sounding like a threat. You bite your lip to not add that it feels like his work is more important than you. He doesn’t like when you call him ‘James’ but you always do when you’re hurt. Right now you have every right to be mad and hurt about your boyfriend’s behavior.

Before he can say anything you open the door and leave the room, letting the door shut close behind you. Tears building up on your eyes and you feel them falling down your cheeks. You face the ground, not wanting to let someone around see the tears you’re crying once again because Bucky left you hanging and prefers his work over his girlfriend.

You make your way to your shared bedroom, when the door is closed you immediately start crying more. Quiet sobs leave your lips and the tears flowing down your cheeks. You wipe the tears with your thumb away, crying even harder when you imagine Bucky’s thick fingers sliding over your soft skin, causing tingles in your body. But this time — like so often in the last time — he is working, not even caring about your feelings. Not even the thought of him making it up to you with sex like he always does helps you to calm down.

The sex isn't bad at all but he only promises more in such an intimate moment. But then he is going to break those once again, hurting you even more. And then it doesn't even feel like he is loving you anymore, just like he wants to apologize and it feels like it's the only way to do that — to pin you underneath in the bed and make it up to you, all the pain and broken promises which become more and more.

Even though you think he doesn’t care about your feelings he does. Bucky loves you and he feels guilty for pushing you away like that but the things with Rumlow stress him out a whole lot. He knows he promised you often to make it up to you, to have time the next day but he still has so much to do that he just can’t have a day off just yet.

He is sure he is going to make it up to you tonight, letting you feel how much he loves you. But first he needs to finish his work and so he does.

You’re sitting on the bed, watching a movie while you’re wrapped into your blanket. Your heart feels like it’s ripped out of your chest, you love Bucky, there is no doubt but he changed. He isn’t the man you feel in love with, the man you used to know.

Bucky was always lovely, at least around you. When you had a date he was there, not even daring to be one minute too late. You were able to walk into his office and ask him if he had time, even though he was actually busy he said yes, turning everything off and spending time with you. He never cared that he had work when you asked for him.

But now you feel like you’re something normal, nothing special anymore. He excuses himself and he makes it up with hot sex sometimes but mostly he comes home and you’re already asleep or you both get into an argument that he acts like his work is the most important in his life.

When Bucky finally finishes his work he makes his way to your shared apartment in the mansion. He only wants to wrap his arms around you, cuddle with you and make sure you know that he loves you.

But when he walks into the room and you’re sitting with red eyes and trails of tears all over your cheeks on the bed, he swallows harshly. He didn’t know that he hurt you that much, he didn’t mean to, but now there you are sitting there, and looking at him.

“Dragǎ mea, what’s wrong?” He asks, even though he guesses what it is he hopes there is another reason you’re crying, one that isn’t your boyfriend. He walks closer, getting immediately on his knees and resting his arms on your thighs, looking at you.

Bucky places his hands on your cheeks, slowly whipping your tears away. But you pull slightly away, not wanting to feel his warm touch once again — not wanting him to give you a reason to stay when you actually want to go.

“You’re always working. You’re not the man I used to know. Bu—James, I love you but I can’t act like it doesn’t hurt me. You prefer your work, so you can have your work,” you say, quietly while you look down. His name slipping past your lips makes it all worse, you never call him James unless he is in trouble or you tease him playfully — where you rarely call him ‘James’ though.

You don’t want to face him, to see him breaking because you decide to leave. You don’t have to tell him directly, he knows it damn well. He pushed you away and he always puts his work first but he never meant to hurt you with that. He wants you to be safe with him.

“Please, don’t leave me. I love you, I-I will change. I will have time for you tom—“ you interrupt him when you sniffle quietly. When you shake your head he gets up, turning away from you and running his fingers through his hair.

His emotions boil inside of him, he feels so hurt but knows that he hurt you way more than it hurts him right now. He promised so much but never kept it, he never had time for you and now you’re going to break up with him?

Bucky turns around, letting his hand fall down to his sides and he inhales deeply, trying to stay calm and tries to hide the shaking in his voice. “I know I messed up, but you can’t throw us away just because of that.”

“Bucky, I don’t— I’m not throwing us away because of ‘just’ that. You promised me to have time but you don’t have time, you come home late, we don’t do anything together anymore. Or we argue and I’m tired of it. I love you and I probably will forever but I need time and it’s better when we both move on, but on our own,” you say, quietly while more tears rolling down your cheeks.

“No! Shut up! I do that all to make it safe for YOU! No one can take care of you like I do, no one will love you like I do — you can’t push me away and leave because a few times I haven’t had time for you!” He shoots, causing you to flinch slightly. He is sometimes angry when you argue but you have never seen him that angry around you — at least not because of you.

He turns around once again, this time he lifts his hand, letting it crash into the wall next to the wardrobe. You get up from the bed, grasping the bag you just packed and walk quietly through the room to get to the door. But your boyfriend hears you — he learned to hear even the quietest noises because it’s important for his mobster business.

“We haven’t talked yet! You’re not going anywhere before we talked about it! You’re mine and you know that, you belong to me!” You shake your head, trying to get to the door but Bucky reaches you just an inch before you grab the doorknob, turning the two of you around and pressing you with your back against the wall. “I said you’re not going anywhere! You’re going to stay here!”

“Bucky, please. We can't talk like that, I'm not letting you yell at me, please calm down. And take a step back! We talked about it, I can help you calm down but you can't let out your frustration on me, so calm down or I'm not gonna listen to you any longer,” you say, trying to sound brave but Bucky's eyes are so dark and you can help but shiver lightly.

He hums, his one hand slamming against the wall next to you. You whimper, he barely scares you but right now he does. His eyes darken and his lips are pressed together, the muscles in his body tensing and you can see his jaw clenching. Bucky hand holding you tightly, his grip around your arms is probably leaving bruises but that’s your smallest problem yet.

“Bucky, I can’t act like that anymore. I want to be happy and you showed me that you’re not the man I fell in love with anymore,” you say, turning your head to the side to not feel his warm breath against your lips any longer.

“And you think you can leave me? You. Think. You. Could. Ever. Leave. Me?” He hisses, coldly. His grip tightens even more when you try to wiggle out of it. “I love you and you should fucking appreciate that.”

He looks up, finally meeting your eyes. The pure terror in your expression takes him aback, dread coursing through his body. You have never looked at him like that, like you are scared of the man you love. He feels how your whole body shakes but he is freezed, not able to back away from you.. Bucky can’t believe that he did that to you, that you were scared of him.

You know that’s only his anger that is talking right now. Bucky often says things he doesn’t mean when he is angry or mad but even though you know he scares you. The side of him — aggressive and cold. The sweet and gentle man you used to see in Bucky deep under the cold surface of James Barnes, the mobster and man with no emotions, except hate and anger. The man you love somewhere you can’t reach right now, somewhere so deep — probably drowning in the hate of the mobster.

“Bucky, let go of me. Calm down, please,” you say, trying to stay as calm as you can while the man in front of you looks with dark eyes and cold expression at you. His lips curl up for just a short moment, his eyes staring into your soul and you feel a shiver running along your skin. Usually Bucky would need a moment, he would be calmer and then he would make it up to you with sex but this time you don’t want to give in to him, you need to change something.

He had enough time to show you that he would keep his promises but he didn’t, acting like you’re self-evident in his eyes. You’re tired of it, tired of his empty promises — the pain in your chest grows with every word that leaves his lips when he tells you that he loves you and that he will have time for you after work.

Softly you press your hands against his broad chest, his muscles tensing underneath the shirt he is wearing and you want to feel him closer to you but you know you would be disappointed and hurt after that once again.

“Bucky,” you mumble, voice soft and Bucky sighs. He lets his head fall down against your shoulder, inhaling your scent deeply. He doesn't want to let you go, Bucky wants to make it up to you, he really wants to do it. Your hand slides up to his neck, softly caressing his skin before you move your fingers into his hair, gliding them through his brown long hair.

“Don’t leave, please. I will make it up to you, I promise,” he says, quietly. His forehead is still resting against your shoulder and he doesn’t dare to move, scared that you will leave when he lets go of you. Scared to see into your eyes, and see that you already moved on, that you don't love him anymore.

Would he lift his head to look at you, he would only find your soft expression filled with love for him, filled with emotions. But he would also see the tears that form in the corners of your eyes, the way they would slowly fall down your cheeks.

“I love you, but you promised that so often and you never changed anything. You hurt me whenever you put your work first,” you say, running your fingers still through his hair. He shakes his head, his hands making their way to your waist and he grasps it tightly pressing you against the wall before he pushes his body against yours.

He sniffles quietly, trying to blink the tears away but he can’t stop them all from rolling down his cheeks. “I n— I need you, dragǎ mea.”

Bucky’s voice sounds so broken, that you want to give in, want to say sorry, pull his face close to yours and kiss him. Forget everything around you and just be with him. But even though that hurts the two of you right now, you know that it’s the best, for him and for you. Because he can put his work first and doesn’t need to argue with someone that he does so. And you’re not hurt every day because he breaks his promises.

“It will hurt a bit of time but it will be oke, you will find someone who will make you happier,” you say, trying to sound like you really believe it. Your heart aches at your words, the imagination of him with another girl hurts even more but maybe it will be oke in a few weeks, maybe a few months and then the two of you can move on without hurting one another.

Bucky muffles his sobbing when he presses his face further into your shoulder, his fingers digging into your waist before he lets go of you and turns around. You don’t have to see his tears, he doesn’t want you to see how weak he can be around you — even though he knows he doesn’t want to show you that just yet.

It needs a moment until he clears his throat and turns back to you. His eyes are red, just like yours and your heart breaks in even smaller pieces when it’s even possible. But other than that he looks with a cold expression at you, lifting his hands and taking another step back from you.

Everything inside of him to not do what he is going to do, to not say what he is going to say. But he can’t stop himself, Bucky is hurt and he doesn’t know what else to do, the soft side of him can’t hold you so he plays his other card, his mobster one. The side he never showed you but only his men, only the ones he is working with, who are working for him. But now he can’t find another way than that to make you stay.

“You don’t wanna stay? Want to run away from me — from the man who loves you?” He asks, his voice as cold as ice and his blue eyes piercing into yours. You swallow thickly, unsure what to say but he doesn’t want you to answer, he just continues to speak. “I will always find you! You’re mine, and I know about everything that’s going on in town, so don’t you dare to just move a step out of this house!”

Your body trembles lightly and you look down. He is going to hate you and he is going to hate himself. You push yourself off the wall, grasping your back and looking once again at him before you open the door and walk into the long corridor of the mansion. He huffs behind you, a low, dark chuckle following.

“You fucking little bitch. Think you can have your own little mind now, huh? I’m gonna find you in every fucking alley, I will find you in every town, everywhere, even in the darkest corner!” He threatens, his heavy footsteps behind you but you don’t dare to turn around.

Bucky slams the door shut behind him, following behind you, while he looks at you in disbelief. You dare to walk away from HIM? From your boyfriend, from the man who cares for you and the one who loves you? And you don’t even stop and turn around when he is talking to you.

“Fucking bitch!” He slams his fist against the wall, causing you to flinch before you walk even faster through the mansion, trying to get out of there as fast as you can. “You can’t go anywhere! Where do you think you’re going?”

You can’t stop the tears anymore, you tried as best as you can so your view isn’t blurry but your heart aches and even though he is such an idiot right now you know he is doing it because he loves you. Since you were together with Bucky you learned to handle his dark and aggressive sides because he never uses them against you and you were the only one who is able to help him calm down. Or at least help him calm down without destroying everything around him.

You stop, hearing him stop too and you turn around, a sad but soft smile across your lips. He is still a gentleman, holding the distance so he doesn’t make you uncomfortable. You inhale deeply, trying to avoid his face to avoid his tears, to avoid that broken gaze — the broken soul behind those stormy blue eyes.

“I’m sorry, Bucky. I’m sorry for being such a bitch to you, for being selfish but I need to take that step now,” you say, trying to let your smile look real but it doesn’t really work. “I hope you will find someone who isn’t selfish like I am. Someone who doesn't mind broken promises.”

His mouth drops open, his mind clears for a moment. Did you just say you’re selfish and a bitch? Bucky opens his mouth, but closing it again, he doesn’t even have words to say. His mind is so empty and yet so full but no words could explain anything going on in his mind.

You’re not selfish, you never were, and he might insult you but it wasn’t him. He doesn’t think that what he said in his anger, he would never think that you’re a bitch or selfish. You’re the sweetest woman on the planet, the most understanding and loving person he ever met and you’re — you were his. But he needed to destroy that, needed to break everything that meant something to him, including you.

Before he realizes that he was in thoughts for two long you’re already out of his sight. Only your scent is still lingering in the air, and he runs his fingers through his hair, feeling your touch still there. Bucky closes his eyes, letting his hands wander to his face before he rubs his palms over his cheek, not knowing what to do now.

He knows that it doesn’t make sense to follow you, when you leave the mansion you do it because you want it, his anger and frustration wouldn’t help to get you back either. But working now? Maybe it would help, maybe he could calm down, he wouldn’t have to go back to your shared apartment in the mansion to have more of your scent surrounding him. More reasons to go crazy because he doesn’t know a way to get you back, his soft side isn’t working, his mobster side isn’t working…

Don’t you love him anymore or did he really mess up but has a chance to get you back when he just tries and shows you that his heart belongs to you — that he belongs to you like you belong to him. That he will be better for you, and that he doesn’t only say it but really means and does it — for the one and only woman who matters in his life, being better for you.

Chapter One ->

-> Asks, ideas, small Drabble ideas are appreciated! So feel free to reach out in case you have ideas or questions.

(Y’all can thank @delicatebarness that I publish the prologue now because you caused more excitement again. AND I HAVE TOO MUCH OF THAT NOW!)

// Taglist //

@kandis-mom @sergeantbarnessdoll @identity2212 @km-ffluv @lunaalovesyouu @blackhawkfanatic @armystay89 @suz7days @etherealdisneyvillainness @pono-pura-vida @randomawesomeperson102 @rogersbarber @sebastianstanisahotmf @felicitylemon @cjand10 @bookishtheaterlover7 @casa-boiardi @futurequeen2018-blog @flstrawberry @capsbestgirl77 @nervouseden @jiyascepter @princesscore-angel @mrs-katelyn-barnes @sasha-writing @somnorvos @fanfictionreaderfan @multiversefanfics @angelbabyyy99

Event Taglist: @amathslutsguidetofandom @buck-buck-buckaroo @mcira @queenashen @iloveshawnieboi @keylimebeag @sapphirebarnes

[heartofwritiing]

home is wherever you are tonight

paring: cc!wilbur soot x fem!reader

summary: its your birthday, a day you dread every year due to bad memories, and wilbur manages to change your mindset.

authors note: this has been sitting in my drafts since march and i forgot about it oops. this is completely self indulgent. Ive dreaded my birthday for the past five years because of personal reasons… i thought maybe writing a non-shitty fake birthday would make me feel better so, it did lol. enjoy!! :)

warnings: self indulgent, mentions of childhood trama, negative past events, mentions of toxic family, fluff, Wilbur being the cutest-best boyfriend, hurt-comfort, yes the title is a lyric from a lizzy mcalpine song.. unedited!

The day had come. the day you dreaded every year for as long as you could remember. it was your birthday.

Most people would be elated about turning another year older, to celebrate but not you. Instead, it filled you with utter disinterest and resentment. To you, it was just another day on the calendar.

Ever since you could remember you’ve just hated your birthday. Each year just felt like they got worse and worse with the number of times You had been let down. Whether it was by family drama or people just forgetting. It was the same every year. So when you finally moved away from your toxic relatives you pretty much forget about it. Only remembering when you'd get a text from your parents to wish you a happy birthday. At least they remembered now that you were gone...

You were relieved when no one at work had brought it up. you never really talked to your coworkers about your personal life, you weren't that type of person. Still, you were grateful the only attention you got today was from one of your peers Matt, asking about the printer in the office not working right.

When you walked into your flat, what you weren’t expecting was too see your boyfriend standing near the door waiting for you.

“why didn’t you tell me it was your birthday?” Wilbur asks in a slightly offended tone.

The front door hasn’t even shut yet and he’s caught you completely off guard with his question. Your heart drops in your stomach.

“hello to you too,” you snort, putting your bag down and sliding your jacket off. "And how'd you even know?" Avoiding the question. Cause that will make this better.

he sighs.

“Answer the question please, love,”

You’re toeing off the uncomfortable shoes you were required to wear at your job as you blankly bink back at him.

You can tell by the frowned expression on his face that he wasn’t just gonna let you drop this anytime soon. His arms are crossed over his sweater, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows as his curls fall around his eyes.

“maybe because it's not a big deal,” you shrugged. Wilbur stops you with a hand on your shoulder before you can escape to your shared room. It wasn't forceful but gentle, his eyes asking you to stay, talk, anything. You just wanted to go to bed and sleep until your shift tomorrow and just forget about this whole day.

"What do you mean by that?" he asks. "I don't particularly like my birthday but still celebrate with friends, family, and loved ones."

There it was.

You wanted to avoid this.

"Look, I don't want to pressure you into talking about this, you can tell me when you're ready. I can tell how uncomfortable you got when I asked you outright why you didn't say anything about it being your birthday, I'm sorry..."

You could tell he was just confused and who could blame him. You had only been dating for about a year and finally moved in together last month. He didn't want to pressure you into anything you weren't ready for, which was one of the many things you adored about him. Always so patient and thoughtful about your feelings and well-being.

There was no avoiding it now as he asked the question. Your heart beating in your ears.

“Why don’t you like your birthday, love?”

“well…” you began, but you could feel the lump in your throat forming as you thought carefully how to put it. You clear your throat and take a deep breath. “I just, have a lot of trauma revolving around today,”

Wilbur has moved slowly towards you now, almost like you were a spooked animal and he was trying to calm you. He listened carefully as you spoke slowly.

“my parents fought a lot growing up, and even on my birthday they just didn’t seem to care, even for one day, so i mostly spent my birthdays alone.”

The look in his eyes says it all. He feels so heartbroken for you. You collapsed into his chest and he wrapped you in his arms, squeezing you firmly and you felt the weight in your chest fading.

"Well listen, I got you your favorite type of cake, a good bottle of wine, not that cheap shit, the really nice one we liked. we're gonna sit on the couch and eat, and you can tell me all about your day." he pauses only to bring your face out from his chest to look you in your eyes. "and then, we're gonna cuddle and I'm gonna tell you how much I love and appreciate you."

With that, he strokes your cheeks with his thumbs and kisses your nose softly. You swear that press of his lips was what made you cave. You began to break down in front of him.

Wilbur's hands seem to be the only thing keeping you upright at the moment. If he wasn't holding you, you were sure you would have fallen to your knees by now. You sob silently as you take his wrists in your hands but don't remove them from your cheeks. The intensity of the long work day and all the recurring memories this day brought you every year, combined with Wilbur's sweet gestures and words made you break.

You felt everything come down on you all at once, yet there Wilbur was, always waiting for you at the end of the day. Always there to comfort you and support you. So these weren’t sad tears no, they were happy tears. Finally, you found someone who cherished you and cared for you enough.

-

@trashcanduck @merakiwi @addxms @ax-y10 @highstonedcat

[h-didanart]

Bloodmoon in dresses collection, round 2!

You thought I was done? So did I, but! Inspiration came back! And so I will now kick off the second round of this blog’s Bloodmoon in dresses collection.

One thing to note is that there are new participants, Bloodmoons from other aus that I hadn’t thought of for a while until someone (*coughs* @achickennamedcheese) asked me how many Bloodmoons I have. They are all here though, and they look rather dashing.

Starting us off, Magical Bloodmoon; Harvest Moon and Sturgeon Moon.

They didn’t need to look too far to find their dress, they already had one! Sure it was a skirt and some cool clothes but it’d still work. On top of that they could flaunt their cool shape shifting powers and they cool shape shifting weapon, so why wouldn’t they go for it? Might as well upstage everyone else in this whole damn place

They are having a lot of fun with this.

Next up, someone who you guys might not recognize on account of me not drawing or talking about them in so long. God of Doom Bloodmoon; Adaptation.

Adaptation himself has absolutely zero control over how Morpho decides to present them, so they didn’t particularly care when the butterfly put them in a dress. He did care when the winged death bringer pushed him to the front and basically let them run around and do whatever. He might be a bit self conscious now, but who is he to deny some time to hangout with their twin and the many other versions of themselves that are in that place?

There’s not enough red in his opinion

Last newcomer! I present to you, the amnesiac twins; Ruby and Vermillion.

Unlike around 99.8% of Bloodmoons, Ruby and Vermillion aren’t very close. Waking up so suddenly with no knowledge of anything or anyone and then learning that there’s someone else in their head was a very bad first impression for one another about each other. They both differ on tastes and likes greatly and don’t have much to bond over besides their dislike for the old them. It comes as no surprise then that they’d have trouble choosing something to wear for this event. On one hand Ruby just grabbed whatever he could and called it a day, making Vermillion feel very bad at the asymmetry of it all; on the other Vermillion chose stuff that makes sense and forms a cohesive color palette on top of being comfy, but Ruby absolutely hates the textures.

We can only hope those two come to an understanding at some point.

And finally, to wrap up this post we have the second design for one of the swap Bloodmoons; Fang.

Fang didn’t know what to do for the second round. Fang could steal from the Sun-man again, but didn’t want to, Fang wanted to stay with the other Others. So Fang had to think about what to do that wouldn’t require to go outside. Fang remembered that together with Scythe they usually had a combination of clothes that had a skirt, so Fang decided to wear the clothes the twins would wear together.

Sadly Fang cannot put the hood on

And that’s all for today! Dunno when I’ll be back, but thanks for dropping by, bye!

[cannedpickledpeaches]

Insert Your Name (11)

Mafia!Jade Leech x Mafia!Reader

Link to series masterlist!

Notes and TW: Congratulations! You have successfully made it all about you (positive). This series will have mentions of blood, violence, crime (kidnapping, attempted assassination, extortion), and harassment, as one might expect from a mafia AU. Please enjoy!

Sorry that the tags haven't been working for the past couple of posts! I had to go in and edit the html for each individual one T-T please forgive me

Tags: @guava-enjoyer @itszzmoon @twstsandturns @myteacupisempty @rou-luxe @chikitasmol @night-shadowblood-writes2 @haveneulalie @owodi

A strange sense of satisfaction fills you as surprise fills the man’s face, but you don’t show it. You need to see this through. If you’re powerless in the face of his ability, you simply need to borrow his power. So what if he’s akin to a god? All you need to do is bring him to your side. Whoever that author is, whoever took over (Y/N)’s body—maybe they aren’t capable of using such an asset effectively. However, you’re confident you won’t let that advantage go to waste.

The man hums in thought. “I suppose it could be done without much fanfare. I would simply need to shift my attention to your experiences and abandon the current story. However, you would need to have your story recorded somewhere, in whatever form you may wish for it to take.”

You understand what he’s getting at. A story needs a medium, just like that manuscript. There are many options: on film, as a novel, as a collage of pictures. No strict rules exist for expression of self.

“I’ll keep a journal. Every day, I’ll write an entry, and I’ll also use it as a planner. This way, my ‘story’ will have the events that occurred in my life, how they affected my ‘character development,’ and also outline how I expect the story to ‘progress.’ Is that good enough?”

You still don’t think of yourself as a fictional character. You’re real, in every aspect, to yourself. But that doesn’t matter right now. Functionally, you’re a character to this man. You’ll use that assumption to put yourself in the most advantageous position.

“Yes, that would be a rather interesting way to tell your story. There are indeed many stories that were written in the form of diary entries, so this is not an issue at all. This would, in fact, make things easier for me. I would not have to go through the paperwork and expend energy to bring someone from another world since you already exist in Twisted Wonderland as an established character. There is just one thing you should know before you make this decision.”

“Tell me.” Of course there are strings attached. There always are. You prepare yourself. Self-sacrifice in small amounts is necessary, of course, but if there’s anything you can negotiate with . . . .

“I will have to take the previous author’s soul out of (Y/N)’s body. (Y/N)’s soul will regain control of her own body, since it was never removed, only dormant. Since the author’s original body cannot function without a soul, she cannot return to her world. It will disappear, never to be recovered, lost to the fabric of what forms this space. Are you still willing to proceed?”

“Is that it?” You expected something else. This has nothing to do with you giving up anything. In fact, it could even be considered a bonus. This woman whose story made your life and relationships exceedingly difficult will disappear down to the traces of her soul. It’s an easy decision. “Of course.”

“How cold-hearted you are.” He chuckles down at his teacup. It never seems to drain empty no matter how he sips it. “That is not an undesirable quality in protagonists, although they often do not have a happy ending in fairytales.”

“Is that supposed to deter me or something?” You stay resolute. “My future was always uncertain no matter if it’s a story or not. I’m in the mafia. I’ve come to terms that horrible things could happen at any moment because of the nature of my job a long, long time ago. It’s my responsibility to plan so that I reduce those chances as much as possible. And you’re going to help me.”

“Yes, I am.” He glances at the fireplace, which has burned down to glowing red embers. “Perhaps you should count yourself lucky that you are under my jurisdiction. I am partial to tragic endings, but I also do not mind if an amoral character triumphs in the end. Some of my peers would adamantly ensure it does not happen.”

You furrow your brows. This is not the first time he brought up something being under his “jurisdiction.” However, this is the first time he’s mentioned “peers” instead of “characters.”

“There are others like you?”

“Yes, of course. Twisted Wonderland is filled with too many stories for me to manage on my own. Since you are mainly involved with the Leech Mafia and stories of the Coral Sea, you fall under my jurisdiction.”

It makes sense. This man compared himself to a god, but he isn’t one. He isn’t omnipotent or omniscient.

“Who are they?”

He tilts his head. “You would not know us even if I told you.”

“I’m curious. Tell me anyway.”

“Such a curious character.” He glances at the embers again. “Alright, I see no harm in it. My peers overseeing Twisted Wonderland include Walt Disney, the Brothers Grimm, Hanna Diyab, Victor Hugo, and Lewis Carroll, among others.”

None of these names ring a bell. It is just a list of names, but having more information is never a bad thing.

“And your name? I should know how to address you.”

“Oh, I have not yet introduced myself to you? My apologies, I must be turning forgetful in my old age.” He laughs at himself in a good-natured manner. “My name is Hans Christian Anderson. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

You introduce yourself as well. He extends a hand to you. When your hands connect in a firm handshake, the new deal you’ve made feels solidified.

Anderson looks at the fireplace one more time. The light has died completely, the little room lit only by the moonlight pouring in the window. With a gentle but decisive clap of his hands, he stands from his armchair.

“That was a fruitful discussion, and I thank you for your patience and understanding. I fear time has run out, however, and so I will be sending you back shortly. I’ll place you right back where you came from: at the moment when I brought you here.”

“Hold on!” Too soon, too sudden. You still have so much to say. He holds up a hand, stopping your protests.

“If you’d like to communicate with me, simply write a request for it in your new journal. I wish you best of luck.”

And with that, the world goes white again.

This is the story of a girl whose name is no longer hers. A girl so common that she may as well be a faceless background character in another person’s story. A girl who wishes, more than anything, to be the protagonist of a love story that will sweep her off her feet and solve all her problems.

Her family is normal. Her friends, too. And so is she. It isn’t enough for her. The world inside that game she plays is so magical, so whimsical, so perfect. The characters are handsome, powerful, clever, funny, or rich, or some combination of those qualities. If she enters this world, surely all those wonderful characters would treat her as someone special. They’d love and revere her unconditionally. She pines for a man who would love her and her shortcomings in their entirety, no matter what she does.

The beauty about fictional characters is that because they are fictional, they can be whatever she wants them to be. She can wholeheartedly believe they’ll love her, and there is nothing wrong with that. But she isn’t satisfied with that alone. It needs to be real.

Desperately, she writes a story revolving around a faceless, flawless main character who she desperately wishes she could be. Everyday, the writing consumes her, dragging her into a fantasy of bliss. She begins to resent her reality. Nobody in real life will love her the correct way. Nobody can be as good as the characters she pours her love and headcanons on. She doesn’t consider how love can be gradual, nor does realize someone might have to get to know her before loving her. After all, in her fanfiction, the perfect mafioso loves her main character upon the first meeting and devotes himself with no questions asked. Isn’t that the ideal love?

One day, a miracle occurs. She meets a man who offers to make her story into her reality. Jumping on the chance to live her perfectly crafted life of happiness, she agrees. Finally. Finally, she will be loved the way she wants.

At first, everything went perfectly. Real life follows her fanfiction to the letter. Jade is charming, Floyd is endearing, and a string of coincidences leads her to meet Vil, another handsome bachelor. Love surrounds her at every turn. All she needs in this life are the handsome men who give her special treatment. After all, this body, this life—(Y/N)—was created by her, for her use. All of the previous relationships this body entertained no longer matter. They aren’t hers, anyway.

The polaroids that occupied her nightstand are probably in a landfill somewhere. The aesthetic was cute, befitting the tastes of a character she modelled after herself, but the person in them is irrelevant. Some side character she’s never going to see again. No matter; she’ll eventually replace those polaroids with cute photos of herself and her new love. (Y/N)—no, the placeholder—has served its purpose. It will not miss those useless decorations since it will never again have its own consciousness.

So where did it all go wrong? Perhaps it was wrong from the start. She should have cursed that old man for scamming her. Her happy ending was never a guarantee. How dare a throwaway side character upend her perfect, fairy tale ending? Is that even allowed? They’re all just characters anyway. How can they steal from a real person?

Until the very end, she couldn’t see anyone around her as anything other than characters in a story. Maybe if she did, she might have gotten the love she wanted. Now, she disappears, having never achieved the goal she so desperately grasped at. Like seafoam, her hopes and yearning for love bubbles and disappears.

Hans Christian Anderson places a book into an empty spot on one of his many shelves. He has always been fond of tragedies. As for this new story that’s unfolding . . . who’s to say how it will end? He’s a patient man. With a smile, he settles into an armchair and sips from a cup of tea. He’s looking forward to it. When it eventually ends, like all stories inevitably do, he’ll shelve it and find another story to bring to life.

The world suddenly flashes into focus. The sun’s dying embers flicker on the sea. Sand shifts between your toes. Fingers graze your neck. Before you can activate your Signature Spell, (Y/N) crashes into you and you both topple over into a bed of sand. Bloodlust raises the hairs on the back of your neck. But it isn’t coming from (Y/N). Instead, you instinctively wrap one arm around her and hold the other one out in front of you, shielding her from Jade.

“Wait, wait! Jade, it’s fine. I’m okay.”

He freezes. One of his hands stops a centimeter away from (Y/N)’s hair. She doesn’t react. Slowly, you lay back down, heaving a sigh. You shift her face to the side so that she doesn’t suffocate in your shoulder. Her eyelashes flutter against her cheekbones, complementing the slow rise and fall of her ribs.

“See? She’s asleep.”

Jade furrows his brows. “I fail to understand. Most importantly, are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah.” You chuckle, staring up at the stars that unveil themselves in the darkening sky. “I’m just a little tired.”

You explain everything to him. He seems skeptical, but eventually, he accepts it. He sits in the sand next to you, his hand covering yours. You pretend not to notice, but it offers a soothing calm to your exhausted mind.

“I’m sorry,” you say, glancing at his side profile. “Even if I write that Vil Schoenheit will cure your parents, it might not happen because of continuity issues. Maybe (Y/N) will still be able to convince him.”

“That’s alright.” He catches your gaze. “It would make the story progress more smoothly if we continue with our talks with Walrus.”

He accepted it so quickly. For that matter, so did you. You wonder briefly if there is something at play that makes you accept the reality of your situation as fact—if it’s because you’re a character after all—but that’s all speculation. Not worth your time and energy to figure out.

“Bottom line is, this is my story now. So I’ll make sure the curse on your parents is dispelled.”

“How reliable.” Jade gives you a gentle smile, one that causes an unfamiliar stirring in your chest. “Thank you. What would you like in recompense?”

You weren’t expecting him to offer anything at all. But since he offered, you aren’t one to refuse.

“Money.”

His quiet laughter blends in with the sound of rushing waves.

“No hesitation at all, I see. Of course, I will pay you adequately for your invaluable help.”

“I also want something else.” You fiddle with the strands of (Y/N)’s hair. “I’d like a vacation. Just a week or two after everything settles down so I can go back to my hometown with my mom.”

“Is that what the money is for?”

“Yeah.” Your heart feels a little lighter. “You should visit the Coral Sea after your parents wake up as well. I’m sure you’ll want to spend time with them.”

A pause. You scrutinize Jade’s expression in the low light, but his expression is wholly unfamiliar to you. He almost looks . . . nervous.

“Would you come with us?”

You blink. “Don’t you want to spend time with just your family?”

“Yes, but my parents would be delighted to have you over again. You have not been to our home under the sea in a long time, and I would be more than happy to show you around again.”

“It won’t be a bother?”

“Far from it.” His thumb rubs softly against the back of your hand. “I . . . We are very fond of you.”

You can’t help but think there’s an ulterior motive, but you accept. This wouldn’t be the first time you’ve travelled to their home under the sea, and this most likely won’t be the last.

Suddenly, (Y/N) shifts on your chest. A soft noise escapes her lips as though she’s finally awakened from a long nap. Her bleary eyes find yours. Kind, lovely, and gentle eyes. The eyes of the (Y/N) you know and love, the eyes of your friend.

“Huh? Are we on the beach? What happened?”

A relieved laugh bubbles out of your throat and you hug her tightly. Confused but sweet, she reciprocates with reassuring pats to your arm.

“Yeah, we’re on the beach. Let’s get you home.” You sit up and smile as she fusses over the sand in your hair. Normalcy is slowly but surely returning. “I’ll tell you everything on the way there.”

[gentlebeardsbarngrill]

02/06/2024 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR; New Events calendar; A Safe Space Ship Event; Watch Parties; Reminders; Cast & Crew Sightings; Clowning; OLD SPICE!; Stats!; Market Research?; Articles; Personal Update; Love Notes; Daily Darby / Tonight's Taika

== New Events Calendar from SaveOFMDCrew! ==

More events happening throughout the week! Tumblr Post

Tomorrow is Cosplay Day! Show off your cosplay and OFMD-Inspired outfits with the hashtags: #WearFineThingsWell!

= New Upcoming Event: A Safe Space Ship! =

Sunday, February 11th - Star of India in San Diego, CA! Museum Hrs: 10 am - 5 PM 1/2 Price Tickets!

== Watch Parties ==

Today's WWDITS watch party went great!

Lots of people had fun pointing out our lovely characters from the show (Mads, Taika, Rhys)

It actually went so well the SaveOFMDCrew twitter got banned! It's back though! If you can, please be sure to follow their backup account in case it happens again.

== Reminders! ==

Muppet Treasure Island - Feb 7th 2024 4PM EST, 1PM PST, 9 PM GMT

Watch Party Hashtags:

#MuppetPirates

#AdoptOurCrew

#SaveOFMD

== Cast & Crew Sightings ==

This was technically the 5th, but I don't think the excitement happened mostly today so I'm gonna throw it in! So Chaos Dad popped his head out yesterday just long enough to like Samba's BTS post on twitter and then also Samba and Rhys' little exchange.

And of course that triggered clowning since anytime Chaos Dad pops in we don our clown shoes. Thank you to @merryfinches for catching some of the discourse!

== Old Spice! ==

Well well well, we're back to polite menacing brands until they respond to us!

Looks like another Astroglide is starting up, the Crew is out there matching deodorants to characters. Thanks to @brainfugk for calling it out!

== Stats! Stats! Stats! ==

So close fam! Let's keep pushing that UK viewership if you have the time/spoons!

= Market Research Campaign about OFMD Potentially Going On? =

There's some speculation around the market research company YouGov potentially conducting research on OFMD. There's a big thread. Why is this important? Well this company works with streamers to measure viewership data, and if OFMD is in there...and someone's interested, that could be a good sign.

Some folks signed up, and if you're interested in doing so too, you can here.

== Articles ==

Some fun articles tonight, including Hard Drive again!

Joke Article: HBO Max Unveils Ominous New “Don’t Get Too Attached” Category

Our Flag Means Death and 9 Other Best TV Shows and Movies About Pirates

Our Flags Means Death fans get TV licence just to watch pirate show

== Personal Update ==

Some of you have heard, I got the COVID so I may be in and out over the next several days, I'm still trying to make sure I get to recaps though so don't worry! I'll let you know if I can't. Remember to mask up if you can and stay hydrated out there luvs!

== Love Notes ==

Alright lovelies. We've run out of Rhys videos for a few days so you're back to me being irritatingly loving at you! I saw this today on The Latest Kate's instagram and it reminded me of a few things I wanted to say. My brain is a bit covid-fogged so apologies if it's a bit wibbly wobbly.

We all struggle with so many little and big things in our lives. Whether it's mental health, self esteem, a physical ailment, love, lonliness, self-identity, family, friends, world conflicts, or anything, I could go on and on.

I know sometimes it feels like you are pushing so hard and you start making so much progress-- and then something, big or little stalls everything and you feel like you're having to start from scratch again.

I just want to send you a gentle reminder that progress isn't always linear. Just because you have lost momentum doesn't mean you've lost your progress. Every single situation is a learning opportunity and every time you run into a new hurdle, you learn from the last one.

You are wonderfully intelligent, kind, precious, complex people and no matter what you're dealing with, no matter how small or how big, you are moving forward and making headway bits at a time. Remember to be kind to yourself and don't beat yourself up for bad days.

We are so proud of you lovelies, remember that.

== Daily Darby / Tonight's Taika ==

Tonight's gifs are courtesy of the glorious, brilliant, talented, ever-enabling @celluloidbroomcloset from her post over here.

Ok, Good Afternoon, Good Evening and Goodnight all! <3

[ricky-tiki-tah]

Glamrock Freddy Through The Ball-pit AU

It’s a twist on GlamMike, time-travel fix-it, cc lives blah blah so on and so forth. It’s long so it’s under the cut :)

At some point after Security Breach (the Vanny ending where he gets disassembled) Glamrock Freddy falls into a decommissioned ball-pit an a storage room. His AI is tuned into a light blue lightning bolt charm and lands on the other side.

About a week before the cc(Evan)’s bday party, Michael(13) is in the ball pit and finds the Freddy AI charm. He sticks it on a string and wears it cuz he thinks it looks cool.

Freddy in the charm works sort of like a ghost and Mike starts hearing random whispers of Freddy throughout the week leading up to the party. Over that week, Freddy is working on where he is and how he can communicate with Michael.

Freddy has been catching glimpses of the outside world through Mike’s eyes through the week, but never tried to take control until Evan’s head was about to be shoved into Fredbear’s mouth. Recognizing the danger, Freddy shoves his way to the front and takes control of Mike’s body.

Freddy stays in control until that night, keeping an eye on Evan(7). Mike freaks out when he finally has control back and locks himself in his room to figure out what the heck happened to him. Mike and Freddy talk a lot over about a week in self imposed isolation.

The events of FNAF 4 (Evan’s nightmares) happen the week after the prevented Bite of ‘83 while Mike had locked himself in his room. It’s actually his terrified screaming that draws Mike/Freddy out. By then the two have come to a shaky agreement to share control of their body and try (mostly Freddy) to comfort Evan.

With Freddy’s influence, Mike is nicer to his siblings. The kid is influenced a lot by the people he hangs out with, becoming a bully with his bully friends (who don’t talk to him much after “he chickened out”), then being kinder with Freddy in copilot seat.

Evan is around them the most, ever since they helped him with his nightmares. He can easily tell the difference between Michael and Freddy. Freddy is more upbeat and wears brighter colors, while Mike is quieter and prefers darker colors.

Freddy doesn��t really know much about the history of Fazbear Entertainment so he’s not much help with any future perspective. Mike(Freddy) can occasionally be heard humming or singing songs that haven’t come out yet though.

Charlie Emily(11) is killed a couple months after the foiled bite, locked out of her own birthday party. She goes on to inhabit the puppet.

Elizabeth dies about a year later at Circus Baby’s at 9 years old. She haunts Baby.

Over the next year, William kills five kids and stuffs them in the suits, his Remnant research underway.

When Mike turns 16, they take a now 10 year old Evan and run. William had been distant ever since Elizabeth “disappeared” and Freddy is suspicious. It isn’t hard to convince Michael that he could take better care of the brothers away from the Afton house. They hole up in an empty house on the outskirts of Hurricane, ruling out Henry Emily on the basis that William would look there first if he went searching for them.

Freddy takes driver seat a lot of the time, getting Mike a job at the nearest grocery store. He also helps Mike homeschool Evan.

Mike gets his first Freddy job at 17 in ‘87(fnaf 2). There he meets Jeremy Fitzgerald(19) who is working day shift and needs a place to stay. Freddy thoroughly vets him before they offer him a room at their house.

Freddy tells Jeremy to be careful around the animatronics. Jeremy is still bit, but it’s his shoulder and he promptly resigns, picking up a different job as a pizza delivery boy to pay for the motorcycle he wants.

When the pizzeria closes, not long after the bite, Mike starts searching for William while going back to the grocery store.

When Mike is 24 (‘94), he sneaks back into the Afton house and finds suspicious notes about the Sister Location. He gets a job there.

Freddy is unable to stop them from being scooped, but due to being fused with his AI for so long, Mike isn’t as affected by Ennard. He’s still missing some organs, he’ll never age past 24, and there’s no way he’ll be eating ever again; but he doesn’t decay and is able to eventually heal, it just takes more time than is normal. He’s covered in bandages for almost a whole year after that incident.

A few years later (‘96) Evan takes the night shift at Freddy’s Pizzeria (fnaf 1), and later (‘97) Mike takes one at Fazbear Frights (fnaf 3).

Mike does take the job at the Pizzeria Simulator (fnaf 6) which I’m setting closer to the early 2000s (‘04 maybe?). He takes the exit route Henry has left open and returns to Evan and Jeremy with Helpy in tow.

Security Breach is set closer to 2010-15. Freddy isn’t sure how he feels seeing his former self on stage again, especially as he’s explained to Mike that they need to find Gregory before Vanny does. Mike is pissed the pizzeria fire didn’t end William like they thought it did.

Gregory goes through the night with them and the animatronic Freddy, going home with them while the Pizza Plex burns down.

Other random notes:

Freddy pushes their hair out of their face, often pinning it back, while Mike tends to let it flop in their face. Freddy has been known to pull it into two little ponytails and call them his bear ears

Mike already had his ears pierced, but Freddy got one more to match the one he had as an animatronic.

Mike is nearsighted and needs glasses, but Freddy doesn’t so Mike refuses to get glasses, instead having Freddy read anything far away if he needs to.

Mike’s eyes are blue-grey, when Freddy is driving his eyes turn an electric blue. The glow in the dark slightly.

The Freddy’s charm glows blue very faintly when he’s talking to Mike when not in control.

They randomly twitch and stutter, due to one of them being a robot. Mike tries to hide or suppress it most of the time, but Freddy doesn’t bother with hiding it.

Mike chews gum almost constantly, to distract from the fact he can’t eat, and so he doesn’t chew on their nails (painted electric blue and black).

All the Aftons are neurodivergent. Evan’s autistic, Elizabeth had ADHD, and Michael is AuDHD. Haven’t decided on William yet but he ain’t neurotypical.

Mike has a different mother than his younger two siblings, and he’s half Mexican. His mom is never mentioned (she didn’t die, just left after Mike was born cuz she didn’t want kids) and Ballora is made for William’s second wife, Clara.

Mike is 5’9”, Evan ends up being 6’0”, and Jeremy is 5’11”.

Mike doesn’t physically or mentally age after being scooped, but it takes them a while to figure that out since Freddy’s never aged in the first place.

Evan has glasses.

Mike always refuses to wear the black pants that comes with the security guard outfit, instead wearing his trademark hole-y jeans.

While they both dislike being shorter than Evan, Mike sees it as one thing he doesn’t have in common with William. Freddy just sees it as a hindrance in reaching the top shelf.

Jeremy is a gay trans dude, and has a mullet and dyslexia.

Mike is queer ace. Freddy’s doesn’t particularly care about any of that(being an AI), and they use He/Him and They/Them pronouns because they’re two guys in one body. They also tend to refer to themselves as ‘we’.

Evan’s aroace. He’d much rather figure out the secrets behind his father’s robots.

That’s the scoop!

[vodika-vibes]

i was rereading some of your tup works and figured i'd drop in another request for your follower event!! i’ve been reading some horror stuff lately so what about something where reader (gender neutral) is like a type of eldritch horror monster please?

the reader would be something tall and shadowy-like with super long fingers/claws and sharp teeth with a long tongue. and tup is just himself, a normal guy?

like the reader and tup fall in love, so tup wants to introduce his partner to his brothers. the rest of the 501st are shocked, but also not really surprised lol

just something cute and romantic and funny please!! absolutely no rush at all for this btw

Monsterous Love

Summary:  Tup loves you and while you’re not sure why, you don’t doubt his affection for you. So when he says that he wants to introduce you to his brothers, you agree.

Pairing: Clone Trooper Tup x GN!Reader

Prompt: The reader in an interdimensional eldritch being

Word Count: 1628

Warnings: None, really

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly @kimiheartblade @mire-draws-things

@bad4amficideas @justiceandwar98

A/N: So I'm not sure if I hit what you wanted, but I hope you like it anyway!

Tup is staring at you.

He almost always stares at you; if you were anyone else, you’d probably be self-conscious about how much he stares at you. 

You tilt your head and regard him curiously, “You are staring.” You note absently.

“I can’t help it,” Tup replies immediately, “You’re perfect.”

You tilt your head in the other direction, “I exist simultaneously on every plane of existence, including the past and the future. And I have an incredibly difficult time staying in a humanoid form.”

Tup’s smile is love-struck, “Like I said, perfect.”

“You are a singularly strange human man.”

He laughs and you can feel your human-ish facade ripple before it settles again, though you’re fairly certain that pastel blue isn’t a normal human shade…well, not in this reality at least.

You squint at your hand and the color turns to a pale purple. The color makes you happy, so you leave it there for the time being.

“Strange in a good way, right?” Tup asks, his grin broad.

“If I thought you strange in a bad way I would not have saved you from the…things.”

“The Kaminoans?” Tup asks, laughter in his voice.

“Is that what they are called? I forgot.”

Tup stands and walks over to you, and you release a surprised noise when he allows himself to fall on you.

Your human form pops, like a soap bubble, and you revert to your true form. It’s hard to describe, as your form changes based on your needs, but your truest form is shadowy. With sharp teeth and long claws.

Also, according to Tup, you’re very soft and comfortable to lay on.

You wrap your arms around him, careful to keep your claws away from his delicate skin, and you release an embarrassing purr as he buries his face in your neck.

“I have an idea,” Tup says cheerfully.

It is difficult to speak in this form, long teeth are not designed for human speech, but you have more than one way to communicate. Is it a good idea? Or is this like the idea you had where you wanted me to raze Kamino to the ground? You ask.

“That was a good idea.” Tup defends as he trails his hands over your shoulders. “Which is why you did it.”

You narrow your eyes at him, You are a horrible influence.

He probably shouldn’t look so smug about that, right? Is it not right that a human should be able to influence an ancient, eternal being? Right? Ah, whatever.

“I want to introduce you to my brothers. And the General.”

You slowly blink at him as you adjust your claws so that you’re less likely to hurt him, and you start playing with his curls, Do your brothers not think that you are dead, Tup?

He shrugs, “I miss them. Besides, Dogma already knows about you.”

That is because I intervened to save his life.

“And I love you for that. Just like I love you for intervening to save Fives and Hardcase.”

You’re still not sure why you did that, honestly. Other than you don’t like the look that Tup gets when he hears about his many brothers dying.

If that is what you want, then we can make it happen. You finally say, not wanting to think too hard about the influence he has on you. Your form shifts back into a more human form, though you’re still a bit taller than Tup, “However, I am going in a human form.”

He huffs and reaches up to press his hands against your cheeks, “I want them to know the real you.”

“This form of me is as real as all of the other ones.” You point out, “I…do not want to cause them any distress.”

His gaze softens, and you can feel adoration radiating from him before he leans in and kisses you. Tup pulls back after a few moments, his hands still pressed against your cheeks, “I love you and I love that you want to make sure that they’re comfortable. But they love me and will accept you no matter what.”

“I am not so sure.”

“Trust me.”

You blow out a heavy breath and allow your form to shift back into your normal form, They might assume that I will hurt you.

“You never have.” He presses his forehead against yours, “And it would be so easy for you to do so. So, will you do it?”

I suppose I will.

“Yes!” He kisses you again and again, and you marvel, once again, that he seems unbothered by your monstrous form. He really is so strange. “Are you ready to go?”

Wait? Now?

“Yes. Now. Before you change your mind.”

Stubborn mortal— Still you shift to a more human form, standing a little taller than Tup, and you lightly push him to his feet, “As you like, Tup.”

He beams at you and takes your hand. “Great! Now, how do I get to Coruscant from here?”

You shake your head. Here, of course, is the house of mystery. The plane of existence that you call home, and also where Tup calls home now. “You still haven’t learned?”

“This House exists in every reality all at the same time, how am I supposed to learn it?” Tup asks cheerfully.

You shake your head and tug him down a hallway. You take three lefts, a right, and then two more lefts, before you open a door that leads to the Coruscant of his reality. “See. Easy.”

“I’m fairly certain that you’re the only person who thinks that.”

You tilt your head, “Oh?”

“Not everyone exists everywhere all of the time.” Tup teases as he cups your face and pulls you down into a kiss. It’s not a long kiss as neither of you are overly fond of PDA, and Tup is eager to introduce you to his brothers.

For all that you’re an interdimensional being, you don’t actually know Coruscant, so Tup is more than happy to guide you to the lift that will bring you up a couple of levels.

You’re surprised when Tup brings you to the 501st barracks. Surprised because it’s a lot more rundown than you expected based on some of the stories he’s told you.

“...I believe that mold has gained sentience,” you note as he leads you inside and through a hallway lined with black mold.

“Eh, it’s fine. Probably.”

“I also believe that is it toxic.”

Tup shrugs, “Probably. We’re just clones, babe. It’s not that big a deal.”

You blink at the back of his head, “Tup. If you want me to raze Coruscant to ashes, this is the way to go about it.”

He stops suddenly and bursts into laughter.

“I am not so sure why you find this funny.”

Tup turns and pulls you into a quick kiss, “I love you, that’s all.”

“I am fond of you as well. But I am also unsure how my comment caused this.”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s a human thing.” He kisses your hands, and then tugs you into a large room, “Hey Cap!”

The room, which had been filled with lots of noise, falls silent at Tup’s voice.

“Tup?” A blonde man that you vaguely recognize as Rex says in disbelief, “You’re alive? And here?”

“Yup.”

“How?” Fives demands, “You killed a Jedi. I definitely remember that happening.”

“The situation is complicated and also not my fault.” Tup motions to you, “Everyone, meet my cyare. You can just call them cyare.”

“I do not think that that is an appropriate nickname—”

“They won’t be able to say your actual name, babe. Human tongues aren’t designed to make those sounds. Cyare is perfect for you.”

“If you insist.”

“I do!” Tup beams at you and then turns back to his brothers, “Cyare saved me. They’re amazing.” He pauses, “They’ve also saved all of you on more the one occasion.”

The room falls silent and all eyes turn to you. “You are overstating, Tup.”

“I’m not.” He squeezes your hand, “Go on babe, show them.”

“I still do not think that this is a good idea.” You want, though you release his hand and allow your human form to fade away into your true form, You are lucky that I am so fond of you.

“I am lucky you’re so fond of me,” Tup agrees with an adoring smile, “This is cyare’s true form.” He says to his brothers, “They’re an interdimensional eldritch being.”

The room is quiet for a moment, and then Dogma, at the back of the room, releases a laugh, “Yeah, this doesn’t surprise me.”

“Somehow,” Rex agrees, “This makes total sense.”

“I told you they’d be fine with you,” Tup says with a grin.

There must be something wrong with your DNA. You are all very, very strange men. You counter as you settle on the floor, But, I suppose this does make me claiming you all as my mortals a little easier.

“But I’m your favorite mortal, right?” Tup asks.

You sigh heavily, Yes, Tup. You’re my favorite mortal. You release a disgruntled noise as he leans heavily against you. Not that you can’t support him, but you’re not an armrest.

Still, as Tup leans fully against you, his arms tight around you, while he answers questions about you and him and the life you share, a sense of peace settles over you.

This is okay. More than okay. 

Tup might think that you’re perfect, but he’s the one who took one look at an eldritch monster and decided, “Yes, that’s the one I want.” so in your book, he’s the perfect one.

Now you just have to make sure that no one will every hurt your mortals ever again.

Easy.

[mariacallous]

Celeste Borys and Kira Lynch don’t leave the house much these days. When they do venture into their small Utah communities—to go grocery shopping, to take their kids to school or the playground—neighbors whisper and stare. “I’ve had people take pictures and videos of me, and I've had someone come up and yell at me,” Lynch says. “Someone at my daughter’s junior high told me to keep my mouth shut and called me some bad names. It’s terrifying.”

“I don’t leave unless I have to,” says Borys. “My day-to-day life doesn’t exist.”

The man whose followers scorn and harass them seems to have no such problems. Long a household name in conservative Mormon circles, Tim Ballard has become nationally known in recent years: He’s the former operative for Homeland Security who says he became so alarmed during the Obama administration by the government’s supposed inaction on child sex trafficking that he decided to go out and fight it on his own, recruiting other true believers to join him on dramatic sting operations in dangerous places, later serving as cochair of the Trump administration’s advisory council on trafficking and ultimately inspiring the heavily fictionalized film Sound of Freedom based on Operation Underground Railroad (OUR), the anti-trafficking organization he founded. (The organization now goes by the name OUR Rescue.)

Ballard is also a defendant in ongoing civil lawsuits in Utah brought by women—Borys and Lynch among them—who allege that he sexually abused them under the guise of saving children. Borys and Lynch have filed police reports regarding their allegations that Ballard sexually assaulted them; Ballard has denied the claims made against him. OUR, which is mentioned in one of the suits, has countersued Borys and her husband.

“This is just a bunch of random details, gossip, and easily disproven falsehoods packaged up to generate some quick clicks,” Ballard’s spokesperson Chad Kolton wrote in response to a request for comment; he also notes that the claims against Ballard in a separate suit have been dismissed. That suit was brought by a veteran Marine who said she was injured at a training overseen by Ballard; a judge ruled she did not have standing to bring it because she had signed a waiver.

While Borys and Lynch mostly stay at home, talking to their families, each other, and their lawyers, Ballard, when not defending himself by claiming he’s the victim of a shakedown, makes regular appearances at high-profile Republican events. He showed up at the Conservative Political Action Conference in February. In March, he joined a Catholic event at Donald Trump’s Mar-a-Lago resort alongside Roger Stone and Michael Flynn. In April, Mar-a-Lago hosted a fundraiser for the Ballard Family Legal Defense Fund. At the Republican National Convention in Milwaukee this summer, he sat for an interview with Trump’s former lawyer, Rudy Giuliani. “The leftist agenda is almost verbatim the pedophile agenda,” said Ballard, grim-faced beneath a cap bearing the logo of Aerial Recovery, a self-described disaster relief and anti-trafficking group with which he now works. “You’ve got supporters here, Tim,” Giuliani told Ballard, adding, a moment later, “Pretty soon, you’re going to have one in the strongest and most powerful position in the world.”

All of this is fairly shocking to Lynch and Borys, who worked with Ballard at OUR. Just last summer, Borys says, she was by Ballard’s side as he crisscrossed Capitol Hill, meeting with Republican legislators about human trafficking and reveling with them in the success of Sound of Freedom, which brought in around $250 million in global ticket sales. “Those people know my face,” she says. “I was in those meetings and on phone calls and texting different people in the congressional world.” By fall, it emerged that Ballard and OUR had parted ways months before, following an investigation into claims of sexual misconduct that employees had made against him. The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, a longtime supporter of Ballard, publicly rebuked him for “morally unacceptable” behavior. And in the fall of 2023, accusers filed the first set of lawsuits against Ballard. Yet Ballard’s star on the Trumpist right never dimmed.

“They know what’s going on with him right now,” Borys says. “For them to ignore it but then to promote him, it’s so disgusting to me.”

Lynch met Ballard in 2021, when she was giving him a haircut. She’d seen Sound of Freedom in an early preview but at the time didn’t realize that she was cutting the hair of the man on whose life it was loosely based. All she knew was that he was famous.

“I’m kind of a big deal,” she remembers him telling her; he was taken aback and even offended that she didn’t know more about him. He told her, she says, about the amazing things he did and how children were saved by his operations.

“He’s talking about children and sex slavery,” she says. “I’m a mother of four. I’m like, ‘Oh my gosh.’ I got sucked in right that second.”

When Ballard asked if she wanted to get involved in his mission, Lynch says, she enthusiastically agreed. She had just gone through a crushing divorce, and her father was dying of a brain tumor. Lynch was, she says, “desperate for something to come along and help me spiritually.” Lynch says that Ballard told her that he was close friends with M. Russell Ballard, a high-ranking member of the LDS Church’s second-highest governing body, the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles.

OUR was a powerhouse long before Sound of Freedom appeared in theaters, raising millions of dollars in donations every year from devoted fans. The group’s exploits were frequently exaggerated. At the White House and in op-eds, for example, Ballard told the story of how the group had helped rescue a teenage girl who was trafficked from Mexico to New York and forced into sex work for several years, citing the story as evidence of the need for a border wall; at one point, he said the group had helped her “escape her hell.” In fact, according to court records, the girl rescued herself and didn’t come into contact with OUR until well after she’d escaped her captors.

Additionally, as early as 2020, a letter was circulating in philanthropic circles in Utah accusing Ballard of misconduct toward women. OUR denied everything: In a statement to Vice News at the time, an OUR spokesperson wrote, “OUR categorically denies the baseless allegations made in the anonymous letter shared with Vice. The OUR board of directors received the letter 12 months ago and, after a thorough investigation, found zero evidence to corroborate the allegations contained in the letter.”

In Lynch’s community, Ballard was still regarded as a hero. Members of her family, she says, were fans of Ballard’s; her mother gasped in excitement when she learned that Lynch had just done his hair, and showed her a shelf full of books that Ballard had written. “They were all praising him to the roof,” Lynch says. “Automatically, that put me in a very safe place with him in my head.”

Ballard’s books, several of which were published by an LDS Church–owned imprint and promoted by the conservative influencer Glenn Beck, contributed a great deal to his fame and followed two tracks. On one, he lays out supposed ties between figures from American history like George Washington and Mormonism. On the other, he positions himself as a modern-day abolitionist, part of a line with Harriet Tubman. One book, Operation Toussaint, is an adaptation of a documentary showing Ballard and his associates carrying out paramilitary work in Haiti. Missions like this were the basis of Ballard’s image as the leader of an elite group of operators doing the work governments didn’t dare and wresting sex slaves from the hands of traffickers. (Files from an investigation carried out by a Utah prosecutor and the FBI released under a public records request would later show these missions in a much less glamorous light—detailing, among other things, the role of a psychic medium named Janet Russon in providing intelligence and one of Ballard’s backers groping the naked breasts of a trafficking victim he believed to be a minor.)

Lynch never went on missions with Ballard. She was instead asked, she says—after being told of the visions he’d had of them working together to save children—to participate in training operations in which they went to strip clubs.

The first time, she alleges, Ballard arrived at her house beforehand with a close friend and OUR employee in tow, as well as Ballard’s son. At her house, Ballard asked her to put fake tattoos and eyeliner on him, getting into the undercover persona he used, which he called “Brian Black.” But almost immediately, Lynch says, once Ballard was in character, he began groping her and trying to kiss her body while she asked him to stop and reminded him that his son and friend were waiting. The behavior continued as the two rode in an Uber, Lynch says, which she calls “horrific.”

“He doesn’t listen,” she says. “He gets in this mindset where it's like he doesn’t see or hear you. It’s whatever he wants.”

Borys, for her part, began working with OUR in July of 2022 as a volunteer before moving on to paid roles in October of that year; by the time she left the organization, she was working as Ballard’s executive assistant. She also began secretly going on missions when, she says, Ballard told her he “was in the middle of a trafficking ring operation and needed a new female partner to come in” to play his girlfriend.

This was part of what Ballard has called the “couples ruse,” in which he and a woman would tell traffickers they were romantic partners, and act as such, while on missions. Ballard has claimed this was necessary to ensure that he and other male operators wouldn’t have to engage in sexual behavior with victims or traffickers while undercover.

Almost immediately after agreeing to work as Ballard’s partner, Borys’ affidavit says, she was flown to California to do “ops training,” which consisted of staying in hotels, hot-tubbing at a Four Seasons, doing workouts on the beach, and Ballard showing Borys what kind of physical acts they had to do while “undercover” and what his supposed boundaries were. She describes him lifting her shirt to admire her stomach, complimenting her “hot body,” kissing her on the neck and insisting it was fine since it avoided kissing on the lips, and showing her how he simulated sexual penetration during operations to fool traffickers who might be observing them.

Ballard, her affidavit says, told her that traffickers could “smell pheromones,” and so they needed to have real sexual chemistry in order to fool them. (The affidavit also alleges that Ballard removed his temple garment, which observant members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints wear under their clothes, telling her “he sees angels all around, and that this isn't wrong.”)

Their first practice operation happened in Mexico, the affidavit says, where she was forced to get a couples massage with Ballard that culminated in a female massage therapist touching her in a sexual way while she froze, closed her eyes, and waited for it to be over. “I heard Tim say he had never seen this done so close and he was getting a lesson,” Borys writes in the affidavit.

"Within seconds, once I was there, I found myself in a situation where I didn't even have time to get out of it,” she says. “I was just staring at him for help.” Afterward, she recalls, she wept, and he told her, “We’re going to save so many kids, you have no idea.’”

Borys doesn’t believe these missions ever led to the rescue of a child. They nonetheless persisted—as did, her affidavit says, not just sexually abusive but spiritually manipulative behavior. Borys, who was raised a Latter-day Saint but is no longer practicing—”I’m so glad you’re not LDS anymore,” she remembers him saying—became enmeshed with Russon, the psychic medium. (Russon did not respond to a request for comment.)

“My life revolved around Janet and her readings,” Borys says; Russon would claim to channel her grandmother and allegedly encourage her and other operators not to worry about taking part in sexualized behavior.

“Janet would say, ‘Our bodies are just bodies, and God gave us bodies to use them to go save kids,’” Borys says.

Ballard, Lynch says, would also frequently assure her while touching her inappropriately that they were doing the right thing, saying things like “I know this is hard, but God will be with us,” and “we’re bringing light into dark places.” He also explicitly told her, she says, that the couples ruse was sanctioned by both God and M. Russell Ballard. (The denunciation LDS Church leadership issued of Tim Ballard in 2023 cited “the unauthorized use of President Ballard’s name for Tim Ballard’s personal advantage and activity regarded as morally unacceptable.”)

The allegations are not limited to the workings of couples ruse. At one point, Lynch’s affidavit says, Ballard came over to her house and sexually assaulted her on her staircase—something her lawyers say she reported to authorities in the fall of 2023, after joining the civil suit. (The following day, in text messages to her that WIRED has viewed, he asked to come by and pick up his belt, which he’d left lying on her floor.)

In early July, the women’s legal team filed a motion in which they say the state crime lab told them that DNA found on Borys’ skirt matched Ballard’s. (Borys alleges that Ballard sexually assaulted her and ejaculated on her leather skirt.) The motion urged the court to instruct the Utah County Sheriff’s Office to turn over the crime lab analysis to Borys’ legal team.

(In a statement to Utah outlet Fox 13, Ballard’s team accused Borys’ legal team of tainting a criminal investigation, asserting this was “consistent with the other illegal and unethical behavior that has been a hallmark of the Borys case.” Janet Russon, meanwhile, appeared on a podcast called The Last Dispensation and suggested that Ballard’s semen could have been found on her skirt because the two shared a suitcase. )

It took a while, Borys says, before she began to view herself as a victim of sexual misconduct. “I remember doing something on an op and I was so scared to go do this specific thing,” she says, her voice breaking. “And right before, all I could think was, ‘If little kids are having to do this, I can do this.’”

She would go home at night and make dinner—“trying to compartmentalize,” she says, while also texting with alleged traffickers on a burner phone.

“I would think I was doing good in the world,” she says. And she desperately wanted to see something tangible from the work—a “win,” she adds. “I felt so conflicted and dirty. I wanted that win so all the dirtiness would go away.”

At this time, Ballard’s reputation as a heroic anti-trafficking expert was at a peak. His rhetoric around trafficking—that it’s the world’s largest criminal enterprise, carried out with impunity due to the negligence and incompetence of the federal government generally and Democrats specifically—had become incredibly popular. QAnon believers took a particular interest, especially after Ballard appeared to support a false conspiracy theory that furniture company Wayfair sold children online by saying that “with or without Wayfair,” the selling of children online was “common.” (Jim Caviezel, who played Ballard in Sound of Freedom, has lent overt support to QAnon beliefs; Ballard, he claimed, taught him that traffickers extract a substance from children’s bodies that “elites” then inject to preserve their own youth. An OUR spokesperson denied at the time that Ballard had explained this to Caviezel.) As this was playing out, the QAnon-tinged Save the Children movement became a driving force in Republican politics, and Ballard himself began to eye a run for the US Senate.

In 2023, Ballard quietly parted ways with OUR following an investigation into claims of sexual misconduct that employees made against him. Lynch, who was not an employee, has a hazy memory of the time but remembers telling friends of an OUR employee that inappropriate things had happened. They, she says, told their friend, who then reported it to human resources. (Her lawyer, Suzette Rasmussen, confirms this sequence of events.)

Borys became Ballard’s executive assistant in early 2023. She was walled off, she says, from other OUR employees. When the investigation began, she knew little about it and was told that its scope was limited to a report made by one woman and would go away. It wasn’t until after she’d quit OUR, and after she’d seen attorney Suzette Rasmussen on TV discussing a suit the pseudonymous women she was representing had filed against Ballard in civil court in Utah, that she really began to process her experiences.

“I was still trying to understand all the stuff I had been going through working for him,” she says. “Once I saw Suzette, I felt like she was my safest place I could go to to protect myself.”

It wasn’t until after she’d gotten out of Ballard’s orbit, blocked his phone number, and filed a lawsuit, Borys says, that she started to understand how traumatized she was. “I was listening to a police officer doing a podcast or on the news, and he said you don’t get to—” here she pauses, and starts to cry. “You don’t get to create a victim by saving victims. And that really hit me.”

The legal process is ongoing; in addition to the suits and criminal investigation, Borys and Lynch have filed for permanent protective orders against Ballard, which currently await the scheduling of evidentiary hearings.

The two are also still very much processing their experiences not just with Ballard but with OUR, which neither now believes was ever a legitimate child-rescue operation.

“Where’s the proof?” asks Borys. “There just isn’t any proof, and when you try to talk to anyone about it who still works there and believes it, it’s like Tim Ballard—red in the face, flustered and frustrated. Instead of answering questions, they fire back at you.”

WIRED provided a detailed list of questions to Chad Kolton, a spokesperson for Tim Ballard. In response, Kolton wrote, in part, “I started responding to each of these and then reconsidered as it seems like a waste of time … There is absolutely nothing new about Tim’s work with Republicans which he’s done openly for years because they actually want to do something about the problem of trafficking rather than denying it exists. The cases against him have begun to fall apart, with one already dismissed and another facing an evidentiary hearing about serious allegations of illegal and unethical conduct by the plaintiff and her attorneys.”

OUR did not respond to a request for comment from WIRED.

“I hope he goes to jail,” Lynch says. “That’s a really honestly hard thing to say, and it’s been hard to understand that might happen. I have to realize it’s not me putting him in jail. It’s not us. It’s him and what he did.”

She also, she says, simply wants the truth to be known.

“Nobody deserves to go through something like this, and someone like him doesn’t deserve to be on a presidential campaign or speaking engagements,” she says. “He doesn’t deserve that right right now.”

[miss-oranje-disco-dancer]

things friends do

pairing: bsaa circle jerk - chris, jill, piers, rebecca, reader (ends up being nivanfield and reader/jill/becca)

tags/cws: everyone is gay, mutual masturbation, oral m! receiving, sex toys

summary: reader walks in on a totally regular event for the bsaa crew

a/n: this permeates my mind constantly. ik no one asked for this. this was for me

div creds to @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

wc: 1.7k

tags: @rigorwhoring @leonfucker3000 @withonly-sweetheart

There’s no such thing as home anymore, not right now. You’ve got your own bunk and your own bag. Everything else is shared. You’ve got one roommate which is better than some can say, but the extra space means nothing when she snores loud enough that you can still hear her through your earplugs. At some point, you just pass out, you always do, but it’s not too late and you’re not too tired yet. A little walk might do you some good, you figure. 

You don’t dare leave the building, you stay in your lane, as always. But, at the end of the corridor, you hear chatter, a light streaming into the hall. Curiosity has you in a vise grip, and it drags you to the door, slightly ajar. You get the sense that you’re not supposed to be here. 

Out of all the things you’ve seen in the short time you’ve been working for the BSAA, this is the most surprising yet. It’s like an opposite nightmare – you’re usually the one naked in front of your coworkers, but tonight it’s the opposite. Chris, Rebecca, Jill, and Piers all in varied states of undress, gathered around a TV that currently displays a couple – a woman with big fluffy blonde curls sitting at the edge of a bed, wearing nothing but her stockings, legs spread in front of a man sporting a typical 70s pornstache and a pair of bell-bottoms. 

But you’re more focused on Rebecca’s t-shirt that’s not long enough to cover her white panties; Chris’ chest fully bare, one arm across the back of the loveseat and the other hand slipping beneath the denim of his jeans; Jill’s tits spilling out of her bra that match her panties in color; and Piers’ t-shirt lifted just above his abs, letting his cock sit stiff against his skin. 

Maybe you could’ve slipped out unnoticed if you hadn’t taken a self-indulgent survey of the room. 

Still, you back away with an apology. “I’m sorry, I had no idea –I’ll just get going…”

But Chris stops you. “Hey, wait–”

“I won’t tell, don’t worry.”

You may not have read the rulebook thoroughly, but this has to violate at least one clause in there. 

“No, it’s okay. You can come in, if you want.”

Should you? Probably not. Are you nervous? Probably. Is your heartbeat speeding up as you slip inside the room, slowly shutting the door behind you? 

Yes. 

The hardest decision is where you should sit. There is a space between Jill and Piers, as they sit on opposite ends of the couch, but it’d be a tight squeeze. Luckily, Piers eagerly moves to sit next to Chris and Jill smiles when she pats the spot next to her. 

Everyone aside from the couple on TV stops touching themselves as a welcoming gesture. 

Chris and Jill explain that this is something they've been doing for ages. You get used to it when you're in the military, and neither of them are into each other so, it's just a casual friendly activity. Piers and Rebecca joined the group in later years, and now, it seems, they've gotten a fifth member.

"You don't have to do anything if you don't want to," Rebecca notes. "Sometimes I don't."

You’d always known Rebecca to be empathetic, but her voyeuristic tendencies are a new discovery. 

"But, if you want to, you can borrow this," Jill says, holding up a small vibrator. 

“Oh, I um…”

“It’s clean, don’t worry,” she says. 

“I wouldn’t want to take it from you.”

“I always keep an extra,” she says, pulling a similar one from her bag that sits beside the couch. 

In that case, you think, I’ll take it. 

But the smile you share says all you need to convey your thanks when you accept the gift she holds out to you. 

In an attempt to avert everyone’s gaze from your hands fiddling with your belt, you ask, pointing to the TV, "what are you guys watching?"

"Porn," Chris says.

"Thank you, Captain Obvious."

"Barry gave us a whole stack of tapes — ancient stuff, but he found it all in a box in the basement when they were moving and decided he wanted to get rid of them, and why let them go to waste?" Jill explains.

"Does he do this too?" you ask. 

"Jerk off? Probably," Piers says.

"Statistically, yes," Rebecca agrees.

"No, I meant this, as in, this," you say, gesturing to the room, the gathering, the situation.

"Oh. No, that'd be weird.” Piers has a flash of disgust cross his face at the thought which is amusing considering the fact that he’s pining after another one of his superiors – the one next to him on the loveseat. 

But you’re too new to the group to poke fun, you decide, and moreover, befuddled, so you continue the same line of inquiry."But he knows about this?"

"Yes. It'd be kinda weird if he was giving us pornos randomly," Piers says in a tone that almost makes Chris’ constant irritation towards him make sense. 

It's still a little weird, you think.

"Shh!" Chris says. "I can't hear what they're saying, and I'm not putting the goddamn subtitles on."

"Does it matter what they're saying?" Jill laughs a little when she speaks. "Here, let me recap for you," she sits up straighter in her seat like she's about to perform – because she is – before dramatically moaning, "oh, baby, your cock is so big," and in a second, manlier voice, "oh yeah, baby? you like that?"

Chris, unfazed while the others chuckle, clarifies, "They're not even fucking yet, Jill. He was saying—"

"No one cares about the plot."

"I care about the plot."

"We'll be quiet, okay?" you say to diffuse the tension which is already high considering everyone in the room is visibly aroused, likely to the point of frustration. 

"Thank you," Chris says with a sigh that sounds different when his hand is around his dick.

The sounds of his hand, covered in spit, pumping his cock barely covers up the buzzing of the vibrator as you place it against your clit on the lowest setting. 

You can’t help but feel embarrassed by the moan you let out despite how tiny it is, insignificant among the other lewd noises around you. 

You don’t even realize that your gaze has settled on Jill’s tits as they bounce slightly with each heavy breath. She notices, though. 

“I’m not a museum. You don’t have to just look,” she says. “You can touch them.”

She unclasps her bra with one hand and reaches out her other palm to guide your unoccupied hand, knowing you’re new to this whole thing. Her eyes meet yours and you nod before she places your hand on her breast. 

“Shit,” Chris mutters, “that’s hot.” 

And he’s not talking about the TV. 

It’s the thought in everyone’s mind, he’s the only one brave enough to say it aloud. 

Knowing Chris’ eyes are no longer fixated on the TV, Rebecca takes the opportunity to cross in front of it and sit beside you. 

“Tit for tat?” she asks. 

“Tit for tit, you mean?” Jill says.

The joke is stupid but it earns a laugh from you nonetheless. 

And, of course, you agree to the bargain. You take your shirt off and so does Rebecca. 

The vibrator buzzes aimlessly against the fabric of the couch, but you no longer need the artificial stimulation. 

Rebecca's touch is gentle when she rubs your thigh, asking for permission to touch you. In response, you open your legs, allowing her access. She keeps one hand between your thighs and the other between her own, working them in tandem, making you moan in time with her.

Surprising and arousing enough to make you gasp, Jill’s lips meet your neck, and it makes you moan. You're too distracted to hold anything back. Too distracted by the show Piers and Chris put on across the room. The constant sexual tension finally bubbling over in front of your eyes is a miracle. They've been head over heels for each other for years, but neither one of them was willing to admit it. They're still not admitting it per se, they'll say they're just giving each other a hand, being a good friend in a time of need. At least, that’s what they’ll say if you bring it up tomorrow. 

Piers' eyes flit back and forth from Chris' hand around his cock and his around Chris'. He's in shock, awe, and bliss all at once. Chris, is looking directly at you, smug about something.

"Forgot to mention," he says, "whoever cums first is on cleanup duty."

"That's not fair!" you whine. "You should've told me that beforehand."

The worst part is that watching Chris get sucked off is one of the hottest things you've seen (aside from Jill and Rebecca leaning over you to kiss each other).

Your jumbled up mind is still sharp enough to come up with a plan, one good enough to win, you hope. 

“Piers,” you say – your voice coming out a bit shaky, a bit desperate –pointing to the scene on TV – a brunette woman with the most obviously fake boobs you've ever seen is sucking the life out of a man whose barely-trimmed bush is the only thing visible.

You don’t have the strength to say anything else, but he knows what you mean: copy her technique.

While your focus is on Rebecca and Jill, on putting your fingers to good use, on listening to them moan in tandem, you can hear the faint sounds of gagging, presumably from Piers, though they're nearly covered up by Chris groaning in a manner that you'd never expect from someone so stoic.

You can feel Rebecca's thighs begin to tremble and hear Jill's breath hitch while the slick sounds of Chris' hand around Piers' cock get louder as his pace speeds up. But in time with the porno, like it's fated to happen, Chris says in sync with the man, "Shit. I'm fucking cumming."

The woman says something stupid, but Piers just coughs as he tries to catch his breath before letting himself fall over the edge.

Knowing that you've already won, you surrender to the pleasure of Jill and Rebecca's combined assault on your pussy, your tits, and your neck with fingers, lips, tongue, and teeth. And you return the favor with equal determination and fervor.

The tape ends and the screen turns to static (and your mind seems to mirror it). You are snapped out of your daze by Jill, nudging you with her shoulder, "So, same time next week?"

[spidrzfall]

Tough Night? ⤑ Peter Parker.

Should this be an extended series? I dunno yall but hey we working w this. Literally 5 pages long oml 💀 please somebody take away my computer as alwags love you guys smm enjoy !!- A.

☆° Peter Parker x Male Reader

☆°• slight angst + fluff

°•▪︎ Fem readers DNI ♡♡

♧ warnings: Mentions of drinking! all characters are 21+ !!♧

♡ NOTES: might turn this into a possible series - slow burn

┌──═━┈━═──┐

Peter took a long sigh. He shouldn’t be here, he knew it was wrong being there let alone when he was in a sour mood, how couldn’t he though? He acknowledged it was wrong and even with the underlying guilt in his heart he couldn’t stop from just…feeling it. That sense of sadness and deep longing, after all seeing your crush marry your best friend wasn’t always the best thing in the world. Seeing Gwen getting married to his friend, Harry, it felt awful to say the least, he was happy seeing his two friends get married but the thought of Gwen just being happy with someone crushed him, more than he would ever admit. Peter knew he shouldn’t ruin this and didn’t plan to by any means, he didn’t plan on stealing the spotlight and yelling out ‘I Object!’ in the middle of the ceremony. If anything he was willing to suck it up and continue forward, supporting Gwen and Harry, it’s what was right, especially because he was Harry’s Groomsman. 

Though he had to be honest with himself, there was only so much he could support, as the ceremony came to a close and they all headed out to the open garden venue to begin the rest of the event’s party, as for the most part Peter stood off to the side of the whole party, not knowing much people who attended and the ones he did know showed up with their dates or were chatting it up. Watching the newlyweds dance together only planted a sad smile onto Peter’s face deciding to himself that this was enough self-torture, stepping outside the venue and down to the concrete stairs in hopes of being alone. His eyes landed on somebody sitting on the steps a few beer bottles sat next to the man as Peter sat 3 steps behind him, “tough night?” Peter whispered as he brought his legs up so he could rest his head on them as he faced the back of the other. “You could say that, not that this is the toughest night of my life but it qualifies” the man spoke as he turned around to face Peter, a half-empty beer bottle in his hand and beside him another 3 full beer bottles and 2 empty bottles which were thrown to the other side of the steps long forgotten and a safety hazard for people who didn’t spot it. “You too, huh?” the man spoke as Peter let out a soft strained chuckle as he nodded “Hah…yeah but what are you gonna do… Mind if I take a sip?”

“By any means” the man replied, handing Peter the bottle he was drinking which Peter gladly accepted, not bothering to clean the top of it as he just took a large sip of it, an exhale leaving his lips the liquor hitting his system. “You know, this ain’t exactly the ideal place to be lonely” Peter commented his hand playing with the bottle as he saw the liquid inside it splosh around. “Yeah, not exactly the scene” The other replied as Peter stood up walking over to the man and sitting next to him. “What are you doing out here all alone? I’m sure the groom and the bride are dying to see their guests having fun.” Peter partially joked, getting comfortable on the steps or as comfortable as a person could be sitting on a concrete surface. 

“I’m actually a plus one.”

“Ah, Where’s your friend then?” Peter asked, handing the man back the bottle after mindlessly toying with it, seeing the man take a swing at the beer before handing it to Peter who finished it off. “Took the car and got lucky” the man replied. “Seriously? Let me guess; they didn’t have the decency to tell you?” Peter set the empty beer bottle down as he licked his lips savoring the leftover taste of the booze. “No they did, I just decided to stay at a party where I don’t know anybody” The guy spoke sarcastically “He’s got an attitude” – “And a name” – “Does he?”

“(M/N)).” (M/N) replied calmly the feeling of the two prior bottles finally starting up his confidence. “Peter Parker” Peter replied as he shook the man's hand. “So, what’s up with you?” (M/N) asked as he faced Peter, turning his body towards the brunette. “Well, you know, not every day you see your crush get married to your long-term best friend” Peter replied as if it was a completely normal thing to feel or even dare to confess. He caught a glimpse of (M/N) hearing the sound of him sucking in some air as cringed slightly before speaking “Yikes. So, you’re in love with the bride?” That caused Peter to take in what he had said and realized he probably didn’t word it correctly. “Not on purpose, I’ve always had a crush on her since high school and well…Harry well he’s charismatic and more confident than I so naturally he got the girl.” Peter explained. “Well at least you’re not crazy and yelled out object mid ceremony” (M/N) laughed as he opened up another beer bottle. “I’m in love but not that in love, I'm not going to just ruin my best friend's wedding!” Peter laughed along with him. 

“Fair enough, you don’t exactly look like the type who would do something so extreme. You look like…the awkward type.” (M/N) commented as he chuckled teasing the other man earning a scoff from Peter who didn’t know if he should take offense or laugh so he took the latter, “Got me there. I’m not exactly well in public settings, I’m not terrible at it either but you know.” Peter defended himself as he looked up at the night sky, the moon whole as the light emitted below towards the two men. “Did you and her ever…?” (M/N) asked as he looked at Peter. “What? No…no we never dated, I really only had a crush on her and nothing more, Though I’m sure she knew, it was blatantly obvious” Peter replied as he rubbed his hands together out of sheer nervousness. “She just never returned the feelings, so she never said anything which im grateful she spared the embarrassment of rejection” he continued. 

“Ignorance is bliss.” – “Ignorance is bliss.” Peter repeated. “Best thing’s to move on, you know? I know it’s hard to move on…but if you don’t, you’re only hurting yourself at the end of the day besides I’m sure you’ll find somebody soon. You seem like a sweet guy from what I've seen hanging out with you or maybe it’s just the booze.” (M/N) spoke earning him a small laugh from Peter. “Yeah, I know. I’ll just have to move on, if she was able to, I’m sure I can too…” Peter replied, sighing and taking a deep breath right after as he heard the slow music come from further into the venue, knowing the slow dance for the newlyweds had just begun.

How Deep Is Your Love by Bees Gees can be heard playing as Peter smiled sadly, humming softly to the song. A part of his heart broken, the song bringing back old memories…

It was high-school prom, right before graduation. Gwen was outside crying seeing as her date had stood her up. Peter took note of her crying as he wanted to make his way outside only for Harry to practically beat him to the punch, going to comfort the girl as Peter watched from the sidelines. The music from inside the venue played as the slow dance music finally started, most of the couples were already on the dance floor getting ready for their little romantic moments. How Deep Is Your Love slowly taking its start as Peter watched Harry bringing Gwen inside and dancing with her…Peter only looked from the sidelines as he took that as a sign to just leave the dance, always wondering in the back of his mind…what if he never asked Harry to give him a ride to the dance? What if he never asked Harry to stay behind and wait in the parking lot? It was far too late to wonder though.

(M/N) frowned slightly as he saw the change in Peter’s behavior as the song played behind them inside the venue. Seeing the man disassociate in front of him he lightly tapped Peter’s shoulder, causing the other to snap out of it. “Sorry,” Peter mumbled out an apology as he rubbed his arm trying to get rid of the chills he felt from the cold breeze. “You don’t have to apologize, just making sure you don’t cloud out on me…I’m like not exactly sober and don’t have a car to drive you to the hospital or to help.” (M/N) commented as he looked away from the other, a part of him feeling bad for the other's misfortune of being stuck in a situation as strange as this one. The muffled music filled the tense air as the two sat down next to one another, leaning into each other's company after all who else to rely on than a stranger? 

“You wanna dance?” (M/N) broke the silence as the song continued from behind them, the question breaking Peter out of his dazed mind as he hesitated before nodding. (M/N) getting up as he and Peter walked to a secluded area of the venue, the music slightly louder as they were near the speakers, Peter placed his hands on (M/N)’s shoulder and the other took the man’s hand as they laced their fingers together, (M/N)’s other hand placed onto Peter’s waist as the two slow danced. It was botched up as Peter could smell the clear aroma of booze within the other man as they stumbled occasionally stepping on one another’s feet earning themselves a good laugh. “You’re a terrible dancer” Peter laughed, his words nothing but the truth. “I’m drunk, I’m usually a great dancer.”

“Talking about your clear unsober-ness, you need a ride?” Peter whispered knowing the man wasn’t in any condition to drive besides it wasn’t like he had a car to even drive back, the question earning Peter a nod from (M/N) as they both pulled away from each other as Peter began walking out and heading towards the parking lot before being pulled in by (M/N). “You know we have to say goodbye to the newlyweds, right?” Peter had the misfortune of agreeing that it would be beyond rude if they didn’t, as the two walked into the loud open area where the guests all were the slow dance over as they saw Gwen and Harry making conversation with some of the guests.

The two men walked up to them as Peter cleared his throat gaining attention from the two as he began to talk, “Hey guys, sorry to interrupt but I have to head out already.” Earning sad stares from the two “already? The party started less than an hour ago, you can’t be seriously leaving already.” Gwen spoke up first as she looked at Peter. “Yeah man, you usually stay late. I know you don’t have work tomorrow, did something happen? Did somebody tell you something? You know we’ll handle it right?” Harry spoke right after Gwen. “What? No it’s nothing like that, I offered them a ride because I’m pretty sure they hit the booze a bit too much and they don’t have a ride” Peter replied pointing towards (M/N), letting the two’s concerns die down.

“Why don’t they just get a cab?” Harry mumbled under his breath, it wasn’t meant to come out as rude and yet it slightly did. Peter sighed as he shook his head, before speaking once more “I don’t think it’s safe getting a cab in New York half drunk” Harry had to agree there as it didn’t take long for the two newlyweds to accept Peter’s leave as they said their goodbyes as well as (M/N) saying his goodbyes, the two men finally leaving as they walked to Peter’s car; a black Range Rover Sport. ‘Fancy Car…’ (M/N) spoke in his mind as he checked out the car Peter unlocked the car got into the driver's seat and (M/N) followed suit and got into the passenger side. (M/N) mumbling out his address to Peter as the long ride began back to Queens. 

“You don’t live as far from where I live…” Peter commented as he drove, the radio silently playing in the background. “Really?” – “Yeah, 10 minutes away I believe” – “What are the odds…” (M/N) whispered as he rested his head against the window of the car, seeing the street lights pass by them the two eventually getting to (M/N)’s apartment complex. As Peter put on his emergency lights the other got off and closed the door behind him, the window rolling down directly afterwards. “Thanks for the ride, Peter. I appreciate it” (M/N) spoke as he leaned against the frame of where the window was. “Don’t mention it, thanks for the almost empty booze and listening to my tragic love life” Peter joked as he laughed. “Hey anything for a suffering stranger, seriously though keep your head up. I’m sure you’ll find somebody great one day…but if you need a friend to talk gimmie a call or a text any works.” (M/N) suggested as he took out a pen from his pocket and an old receipt scribbling his number onto it and leaving it on Peter’s dashboard. “I’ll make sure to bug you whenever I can…stranger” – “Can’t wait”

A car behind them honking its horn tore them both out of the conversation as (M/N) quickly waved his goodbye as he saw Peter drive away, taking that as his cue to make his way quickly into his apartment complex. Who knew meeting up with a stranger would be quite an interesting side quest? Entering was greeted by his adoptive brother, Eugene ‘Flash’ Thompson, who was on the couch.

“Well look what the cat dragged in, thanks so much for stranding me at the wedding!” (M/N) spoke as he smacked his brother's head, sitting on the opposite side of the couch. “Sorry, I got caught up in a moment, I was blowing up your phone. How’d you even get home?” Flash commented as he didn’t bother looking at the other his eyes focused on the screen of the television that played the basketball game. “I got a ride, no thanks to you.” – “who gave you a ride?” – “Some guy named Peter Parker.”

The name caused Flash to go wide-eyed as he spit out the water in his mouth that he was about to drink, “You got a ride from WHO?!”

└──═━┈━═──┘

[mori-does-sw]

CLONE CRUSHES: DOGMA

PAIRING \ Clone Trooper Dogma x GN!Reader SYNOPSIS \ How Dogma behaves when he has a crush on you. WARNING(S) \ A teensy bit of angst. AUTHOR'S NOTE \ It has come to my attention that I forgot to include Dogma when I wrote the Torrent Company headcanons, and I can now definitively say: My bad. I wrote it as a mini-project while I work on some bigger things. Stay tuned!

If you thought that Rex was awkward, Dogma is so much worse. All of his more-than-platonic thoughts about you are filtered through enough layers of self-repression and self-consciousness that his cuteness aggression turns into passive-aggression.

In truth, Dogma is fascinated by you. 

Raised in Kamino, he doesn’t have much reference for how normal people live other than the very essentials that flash-training taught him. When you offer to show him and his vode where to find those holovids you like so much, what your favorite things to read are; little things like tooka cafés or street musicians or stealing the free paint chips in hardware stores, he’s overwhelmed. But he likes it.

A little too much.

He isn’t sure what you’re doing to him, isn’t sure if he’s okay with it or not, and proceeds to shut down almost entirely the moment you start giving him Feelings™. You’ll be having a perfectly normal conversation and, the moment you accidentally touch or smile at him too brightly, he’ll just disengage. Any attempt to continue speaking will be met with grunts, and the minute you turn your back he’ll run away.

Every interaction with Dogma feels timed, but you can never decipher how long you have on the clock. It’s no wonder that, with his strange behavior, you’re completely at a loss when it comes to his feelings for you—no idea how much you mean to him.

Ironically, he’s very much like a cat. He’s only comfortable being close when you aren’t paying attention to him. If you’re working, he’ll bring you the holopads you need or fetch you a ration bar if you decide to skip eating. He tends to stick near to you at large events or in a crowd, keeping an eye on you even as your presence reassures him.

He’s secretly fond of being in the same space as you. You don’t have to talk or even acknowledge him, just being able to listen to you relax or do your tasks makes him happy.

While it’s true that Dogma’s actions are more effective at making you confused than getting his interest across, your positive reactions help him gain confidence. A little patience with him goes a long way.

Eventually he’ll come to terms with the fact that he wants you, and that he wants you to want him back.

[starillusion13]

My Princess

Pairing : Bandit! San x Princess! reader

Genre: Pirate Au, Fluff, S2L, Royal

W.C: 4k

Warnings: Nothing, just don't follow a stranger like in the story coz everybody is not going to be a San in your life.

Request from: @vvshere

Network: @cultofdionysusnet @k-vanity

Taglist: @mymoodwriting @justhere4kpop @vvshere @yeoobin @anyamaris @icchyi @jwnghyuns @piratequeen-queenofgames

Note: Thanks for joining the event and loving my works. I love interaction so please do tell me how you all like my works.

*under the cut*

Being a princess has never been a peaceful and wonderful life for you. Commoners may have dreamt to have a life like you in the way they have imagined but never actually got to know how exactly you are living your life. Wearing a heavy long princess gown with corsets which sometimes make you feel like dying out of lack of breathing. The feeling is similar to being inside the four walls of the castle every day. You are not allowed to go out in the public because according to the king, your life is always at the stake of risk and the bandits out there may use any opportunity as their only chance.

Bandits! You heard about this from the guards and the king and sometimes you saw the scared faces of some maids when mentioning about them. You don’t know how even they look or what actually they are but as far as you got to know from these people, they are the criminals of the town rather the whole kingdom keeps their wealth and jewels protected from the bandits. So, as you are a curious little being who has a new adventure in her life now to get to know more about these bandits and at any cost you want to encounter with one. You don’t know how or will it be okay after this or not but you have made yourself determined to get out of the castle.

With all the courage and self-enthusiasm, at midnight you disguised yourself as one of the maids to get away from the castle. The maid who helped you in this situation is very much close with you since your childhood as your mother never cared for you and always busy with herself and your brother and this never bothered you because the maid always accompanied you in every possible way. The king has always neglected your presence inside the castle but never let you go outside. If he does not like you then why not letting you to be yourself? Oh! It’s just because he wants you to get married to the neighbourhood kingdom and he needs to maintain a proper image for that for his benefit.

“Will you be really safe?” you are looking around the dark backyard garden to see whether any possible being is aware of your acts when you heard someone beside you is concerned.

With a smile and confidence radiating self, you turned to your side “Of course. Its not like anyone can recognise me as no one in general knows me or have seen me that much to be recognisable in this state.”

“I am not worrying for you to coming face to face with any commoner.”

Your restless self replies quickly, “Then why are you worried? If am not any royal member then nothing worse can happen.”

“Stay away from Bandits and Pirates. They are not the types to be a part of your adventures.”

“Don’t worry, it’s not like I would be so careless to get myself into any trouble with them. I just want to get to know the outer world and who are these people whom people are so afraid of.” Giving her a smile of assurance, you picked up your tote bag and adjusted it in your hands. The bag has few necessary items which can be needed for you few days stay in the village.

“I will manage everything here. Just be safe out there.” You nodded on her words and followed the dark pebbled way towards the forest.

————

Your senses hit with a foreign feeling of being out from the walls of castle. You feel like having escaped a cage and now you can spread your wings of freedom. If only I had wings, I could have fly away long ago! If only it was a daytime so that could make the surrounding seem wide and bright to give the feeling of being freed. Looking around during midnight, it seems like an endless dark place with mysteries beyond the paths.

You are excited to be finally on your little adventure but deep down, there is a fear of worst situations that you might have to face.  

You tried to recall the path the maid has described to you and following that you have to turn to your left to enter the east sector of the village where you can stay for as long as you want without anyone being conspicuous because al lot of sailors and other kingdoms visitors stay here. Well, the most advantageous would be able to see bandits and pirates. You just have to pretend that you are searching for a work here and that’s it.

“Ouch!” How the hell did I just trip? Bending down, you caressed the ankle where it is paining like somebody has cut off the feet.

“I told you I heard somebody was here.” A deep voice echoed in the silent atmosphere of the forest and you are just thrilled when you recognised it as a male’s voice.

Another voice spoke up from the same direction, “Hmmm….. and that’s why I came along with you.”

The rustling sounds nearing your form making you panic in your place and you are not able to process of what to do then.

You took one step forward when someone holds your upper arm to yank you around. The person is not properly visible to you except those eyes which are bright due to the lantern in his other hand holding at the face level. His eyes are shining like lost diamonds in the dark forest and anytime those bandits would come look for it.

“What are you doing here?” This voice sounds like the first one you heard before.

“I- I am here just….” You can’t think of any excuse when you know very well what you have to tell in such situations. The grip on your arm is really strong and you are wiggling your hand to let you go. Only if he tried to do this in the castle, he would have been dead in no time.

“Who are you? What are you even doing here at this hour?” The second person made his presence known to you when coming beside the previous male.

You gathered a little courage to handle the situation a bit, “I’m from the other side of this village and I have lost my way so I was going towards the main sector of this side of the village for a night stay.”

The man let go of your arm and moved aside when the other one comes in front of you. He also has a lantern in his hand but his eyes are very piercing and the way they are scanning your face as if he can reveal your original identity. You feel conscious on this thought and pulls your scarf to cover your face. He holds your wrist preventing you from your act and started dragging you towards the direction where you were supposed to go.

“What the hell are you doing? Leave my hand. Where are you taking me to?” Is this the end? Are you really going to die? Or something worse? No no you have to run before this man decides to do anything with you. Your thin white silk gown is not helping the night cold and the pain in your ankle is becoming worse.

“Do you have a place to live tonight?” His sudden question made you stop fighting against him and your other still busy adjusting the bag on your shoulder from slipping for him pulling you.

“…..no but I can manage on my own.”

“I can see how you can do that probably becoming the meal of any wild animals or getting kidnapped by some sailors to trade you off to a different country.”

“Trade me? Is this even possible as the king- “you are really going to get caught at this point when you are just about to reveal your original identity.

“Do you think that king even care for any commoner? He doesn’t even care for his own daughter.”

“How do you know about his daughter?” You asked him on seeing his confidence on commenting about the relation between the king and his daughter. To some point it is true that he does not even care for you but maybe he would have done something in this sort of situation.

“Do you think he care for you?” He is staring at you directly into your eyes and for a second you thought he directs the question to you as if he knows you are the daughter.

“I don’t know.”

“Exactly. See! no one has any confidence to agree with that the king care for anyone.” He started to walk towards where he was taking you before, your hand still in his firm grip and the other man beside you still busy looking around the place.

“Where are you taking me?”

“To give you a place for tonight and to change your mind on your decision.”

“How can I trust you? And what decision are you referring to?”

He completely ignores your query and spoke to the other male, “Yeosang! Tell captain that we are having a guest on our ship and maybe we have to discuss on some matters later at night.” The latter eyed you for a moment and walks away.

“Captain? You…you are a pirate then…..Are you going to sell me to those sailors?” you wanted to encounter those pirates or bandits but not like this during night when you don’t have anywhere to run for your safety and also not on the same night when you ran away from the castle. Your shaky pupils where tears are threatened to fall looking at the man pulling you.

His piercing eyes turn towards you for a precise moment to read your expression, “I know you are afraid of me but am not a…..pirate. You can trust me and please follow me quietly because I don’t want others to know about our presence out here or we both will be in danger.”

Coming to the main sector of the village, you can see the surroundings a bit more clearly because of the lights coming from different sources around you both and then when you notice this man. This man is a stranger dressed up in a white loose shirt inside with a beige-colored fringe coat and a half sleeved brown leather jacket and a light brown velvet pants. The street is enough lit to take in the surroundings and you smile a bit to be finally walking between the common life environment but to your dismay, you are with a pirate or someone like that.

“Are you cold?” A concern wrapped around his words.

“Huh?… oh…no it’s okay.”

“Hold on. We will reach there soon and then I will give you something warm.”

You remained quiet as to why he is caring for you that much. Your gaze fall to where he is holding your hand then look up to the back of his head and then when you notice the red streaks in his black hairs. Those red streaks are mysteriously highlighting like the way his actions are mysteriously too nice towards you.

“Why are you helping me? Are you really same like how you are showing yourself to me right now?”

He didn’t say a word but increased his speed and you followed him quietly. You literally don’t care if anything happens to you because to you this is an adventure and you want to experience it any way possible atleast everything seems better to you than being within the four walls of your room.

You can hear the waves hitting the shore because of high tide and the smell of wet ground hitting your nose calming your panicked self. A smile appeared on your face and the same moment he turns to you but you were busy looking at the sea. Even though the place is dark but the sound of the sea shore and the silence of the dark night is giving you comfort. You feel like to be the free soul in this outside world and just want to run beyond the horizon. A tear rolls down your eyes and before you can wipe it off, a somewhat rough finger slide through your cheek.

“Don’t waste your tears on such silly things.” You made a ‘tsch’ sound on his remark.

“What?”

“You don’t know how I am feeling right now.”

He pulled you towards a ship, the only ship docked at the shore. You both walked towards the wooden gangway which leads to the plank of the ship. He helped you get into the ship and then when you reached the deck. You can hear some faint voices from a small room situated in the middle to your left and to your right, the man is settling down some boxes. You are looking around the ship as this is your first time being on a ship and also on a pirate ship. The ship has damp and sea shell smell, to people maybe this is disgusting but to you this is a smell of a momentary freedom.

“What’s your name?” you asked him when you settled down your bag on a wooden drum.

He looks at you and down to your leg and you followed his gaze and hen you realized that he is looking at the bruised portion. The bright lantern on the ship making the presence lively and visible to each other. You both looked up at the same time and made an eye contact.

“San.”

“Hmm…thanks for your help, San. I don’t know if I’m safe with you here or not but for the time being am experiencing a lot of new aspects of life.”

“Sit there on the stool beside you. I will bring some patches for your ankle.”

“Its okay. I will go to any medic in the morning.”

He didn’t listen to you and walked away towards a door where you could hear faint voices of males coming. Oh gosh! There are so many men all around me and I don’t even know how to fight. The worst is that if the king find me here in this situation, I would be dead before these pirates change their mind from helping me to killing me. You were so lost in thoughts that you didn’t someone is standing before you.

“Are you worrying about your adventure?”

“Huh?” you are confused on his words. Adventure? He is not probable referring to your original plan. Right? Or maybe he is.

He bends down and sit on his knees to match your sitting form on a stool. He lifts your leg and then you stopped him by holding his wrist.

“I can do it myself.”

“You really think life is so easy everywhere.”

“Why? I just told you I can apply those patches on my wound.”

“You don’t know how to handle wounds from animal traps so let me do it.” He is right as you never applied cream on your simple cuts and always your maid was there to guide you on everything. But being a commoner, they know how to handle these.

“maybe….”

When he was applying the cream, you noticed a wooden opera glass stuck to the band on his waist and then it struck your mind that the maids always used to say how they heard a dangerous bandit always carry this.

“Are you a bandit?” He looks up to meet your scared eyes and again his gaze returned to your ankle where he was done patching up.

“Yes. My brothers are pirates and one of them is a medic whom you saw earlier and am a bandit.”

You abruptly stood up and a pain shoot your legs making you stumble in your place. He helped you balance your form but you yank him away.

“Don’t do this. Sit down or the pain will become worse.”

“You all are dangerous people surrounding me and how can I just think of a wound right now.”

“We are not always dangerous.”

“You all rob and kill people. How can I believe that you are not lying?”

He paused before coming closer to you and staring with raised eyebrows, “The way am believing you that you were in the forest only because you had lost your path.”

“What are you even saying?”

“Don’t pretend that you don’t know that you are lying to me all this time.”

“I a-am not ly-lying.”

He chuckles, “sure.”

“I am telling you everything truly.”

“Let’s go inside, the night is too cold and you are just wearing a scarf and a thin gown. I’m sure princesses don’t stay out at night for too long.”

“Princess?” your shocked eyes didn’t even try to hide your expression on his words.

“Are you not the princess Y/N?” you are stunned how he pronounced your name dearly with remark princess.

“How do you know?”

“Let’s head inside then we can talk about it.”

Hearing yourself to be called a princess, the feeling of suffocation returned back to you and now you don’t even want to go anywhere confined other than being under the bright full moon and vast sky with an endless night sea surrounding where you can smell the freedom.

You look up towards the moon, “I don’t want to go inside.” The moon is visible through between the mast and crownest.

“Do you want to go up there?”

“Where?” He points towards the crownest.

Your pleading eyes asked “Can I?”

He nodded and then when he helped you climb up a rope stairs. Your fourth attempt made it a success to finally reach there. The wind is giving a fresh and unconfined feel to you.

You grinned on this feeling, forgetting all worries about your escaping the palace and encountered a bandit with whom you are experiencing the air of freedom. It can be possible if he kills you up here where not a single being of the ship can be aware of his deeds and maybe get all your golds and money from your bag.

“It’s beautiful right?”

“Yes!” You turn to your side to see him already looking at you. His piercing eyes looking like a flashing edge of a knife under the moonlight. The more you are seeing him, you are curious of what a bandit do or how they are different from others. They are humans like you but how come people are afraid of them when they are like this.

“Why were you alone in the forest?”

“How do you know me being a princess?”

You both asked on the same time. He nodded and looked away towards the moon and then he spoke up.

“I know everything about you.”

“How?”

“When someone wants to do something, the person tries to do it but when it comes to someone’s desire then the person can go beyond his limits to do it. The bandits always have passionate desires in them.”

“Your desire was to know about me?”

“No the king?” he looks back to you.

“Why?”

“The king never let the commoners follow the old rules which your grandfather had settled and it leads to a lot of business problems among the sailors and the commoners and also to the pirates. We once went to a meeting with the king and then when I saw you.”

He paused for a moment, “that day you were with a maid and you both seemed so close and then the days of my stay inside the place, I always followed you without you being aware of me and then when I got to know everything about you. You already know how bandits can get every detail about something and I don’t know why but I wanted you to get away from that place.”

“Why didn’t you just abduct me from the palace? I could have freed long ago.”

“I couldn’t n’t because the easy suspects would have been us if they get to know that you getting kidnapped is followed by the disappearance of our ship from the port.”

“You kill people so what if you kidnap someone.”

“We just kill who is a threat to kingdom but I agree with us robbing people. We just rob rich sailors and kingdoms for us.”

“So, you are not that dangerous like how I have heard.”

“Like not all princesses are happy in their palace.”

“Hm…”

“Do you want to go away with us. With me?” He turns his body to face you and then takes your hand in his to give you a little smile.

“You will get caught.”

“No one knows we are here in this village. We had to get something and so me and Yeosang went there when on our way of return, you stumbled in our way.”

“……”

“Do you want to be freed forever?”

Your gaze admires the way his warm hand holds your cold hands and then look towards the moon, “I want to be that moon who is dancing and shining brightly among the ocean of stars. You are a bandit who always look forward to the journeys beyond the horizon with your captain and brothers. But me….”

“What about you?” you look back to your hands.

“I never got anything, nowhere where I can be myself other than being a princess and following the royals within those four walls.”

He hugged you. This hug is a simple welcoming hug but to you this is the most precious feelings for getting warmth from someone. No one ever hugged you this way and no one even offered to help you even when there is a risk of others getting caught but he is willing to give you everything you want.

“But how did you know that it was me in the forest?”

“No one would be in that area coming from other side of the village other than the people from palace coming from backyard as I know the way. Also, the moment I saw your face I was confirmed.”

You gasped, “you were going to rob us?” You look up to him.

He is smiling down, “Remember I told I had to get something. It was an important thing to captain which the king had taken away.”

“oh!”

“So, do you want to be the princess of the sea?”

“Will you be with me on this journey?”

His one hand caressed your cheek and the orbs deeply staring at you, “I will take you beyond the horizon just to keep you away from the kingdom. I will never let a shadow fall on you to make you feel confined.”

“Thank you…..San.”

“So princess, lets start our journey?”

“Its Y/N not princess anymore.”

“You are my princess. The princess of my sea, Y/N.”

You smiled on his endearment and kissed him on the cheek and quickly hold the railing of the crownest to face the sea and closed your eyes to feel the breeze blowing. You felt some one back hugged you and rest his head against yours. You smiled to yourself, the adventure is no more how you did expected but it’s a lot more interesting than it could have been otherwise.

“Please let me prove that bandits can be good to their princess.”

“You have already proved me and I must say that I trust you the most.”

The crackling dawn in the sky promising a golden ray of hope in the horizon marking your journey towards the princess of the sea. Maybe, the stories of bandits were more scary than encountering one in real life.

[katsukismrs]

geyser

context:you bottled up your emotions for too long,and it overflowed when you and your boyfriend argued.

warnings:swearing,overstimulation,fighting,reader has a panic attack during fight,angst to comfort and fluff

author note: the symptoms of panic attacks vary! i just used the ones i get when i have panic attacks,if you get panic attacks i’m really sorry,but you aren’t alone <3. p.s:this is self indulgent don’t mind it lol

taglist!!

it had all been too much for you to handle;your parents’ constant banter about how you entered U.A and how stupid you were for not pursuing in something “normal”, your training,having to deal with your classmates’ traumatic events because you were someone they trusted dearly with their secrets, having to keep up a relationship with the boy you loved, even though you were tired of constantly dealing with his shit, the list goes on and on.

you sat in the common room, staring into space, the light is too much, the mindless banter of your classmates is too loud, one of them is eating and the smell is too much, the scraping of the metal fork against the glass plate, the couch’s material is too rough for your fingertips, it makes your teeth cringe and gives you goosebumps, you lick your teeth and something made your mouth taste disgusting, and all that resorted into a headache fueled by anger that if someone interacted with you you’d get violent, so you resort to standing up and leaving the common room entirely, going straight to your room, your safe haven.

your boyfriend, Katsuki, with his observant nature, inevitably notices and chases after you, entering the elevator with you.

“what do you want?” you exclaimed, you obviously didn’t want social contact, why couldn’t he leave you alone? but he stayed silent, not answering you at all, the levels of your anger traveling further than that you were feeling right now, is he an asshole?

the elevator came to a stop after what seemed like a decade, you exited and rushed to your room, trying to outrun him, but you failed miserably. he enters the room after you and closes the door.

“so what’s up with the bullshit you kept up in the common room? dunce face directed so many sentences at you yet you stayed silent, you ass.” he scolds you, it angered you further.

“oh sorry, didn’t know you were so considerate of Kaminari.” you replied sarcastically, rolling your eyes, your headache is killing you, you’re on the verge of crying, you wish you could tell him but the words die on your tongue out of anger.

“what the fuck is up with your attitude?” he questions, anger in his tone, fueled by who knows what, diesel maybe? because he might as well catch on fire from how he’s fuming at your unexplained change of attitude.

“what the fuck is up with your attitude?” you counter his question with one of your own. “can’t you notice i’m not up for chit-chat?!” you yell at him, oh shoot. you begin to beg yourself please, to not let out your ugly emotions on him, not on him, anyone or anything else, just not him. but it seems as if your body simply didn’t want to listen, it obeyed your too-selfless-too-stupid commands for way too long.

“and can’t you see i’m trying to see what the fuck is up with all this?! i’m trying to fucking help!” he yells back, this isn’t working between you two at all, irritated Katsuki Bakugou and overstimulated you didn’t mix well at all, you wanted to tell him what was wrong with you, you needed to tell him, you needed to tell him it’s you who’s wrong, not him, not his attempts of helping you, but the way you responded to it, yell it out! you begged yourself, you begged your words to live past your tongue, but they didn’t listen.

“i don’t need your fucking help if you’re that miserable at trying to!” you reply instinctively, please just stop, or he’s gonna leave you.

the thought kicks in.

he might leave you.

he might not understand whatever you’re going through right now.

and that’s when it was enough for your body.

the colors around you begin to brighten up, too much to be normal, your heart speeds up to a too-much rate, your face heats up, your whole body in fact, somehow your brain registers what he’s saying despite the wreck going on, like a building crashing down during an earthquake.

“oh well! i’m sorry for trying to help like a decent boyfriend! thought you told me to practice the ‘asking others if they’re okay when they’re not and try to help them’ bullshit!” he yells once again, mocking you in the process, and it feels like bullshit, you are bullshit.

your body continues to go into overdrive “don’t mock me you asshole!” you noticed you run out of breath, so you gasp violently to make up for the lost air, your skin feels damp, you notice that you’re crying, so you viciously wipe your tears with your forearm. “i told you i don’t need your help! take it-” you run out of breath again,and sniffle this time “take it elsewhere if you can’t do it,you bitch!” you’re crying hysterically, your face smothered in snot and tears.

he stands there, staring at you, he had an observant nature, so how come he didn’t notice you, his significant other, slowly break down?

you whine and weep as you cover your face, it’s burning from the tears, you notice you’re shaking because you can’t cover your face all the way, showing the hideous state you hid for too long.

then suddenly.

something’s warm.

no.

someone’s warm.

arms? where did they come from?

oh.

Katsuki engulfed you into a hug, making your tears suddenly come to a halt. “dumbass, if you felt like this, why didn’t you come to me?” his voice was so gentle. so soft. contrasting what it sounded like earlier too well. he runs his hand up and down your back “continue your crying, dumbass”

and just like a geyser bursting, you burst into tears, the comfortability in being able to cry without limits made you break. you bite the fabric of his shirt, screaming into it, you expected him to let go of you so you don’t get tears, snot, and saliva all over his shirt. yet he didn’t. he instead held you, not minding how disgustingly wet his shirt was getting, it wasn’t disgusting at all to him, because he was in your position before, and you were in his. he remembers the days where he just barged in your room uninvited, and just cried into you, he too expected you’d let go, instead you’d whisper sweet reassurances to him and held him close until his energy ran out. until he fell asleep. and when he’d wake up he’d see that he didn’t change places, that you held him until you fell asleep yourself, and he adored that.

not only is he helping you, he’s reciprocating what you did for him.

your cries finally died down, and you became calmer “i’m sorr-” you apologized, or at least tried to before you were hushed.

“don’t apologize for needing someone to comfort you, dumbass” he told you,quite offended that you’d apologize for needing help from him.

you sighed contentedly, having let out all the burden on your shoulder, yet you still needed his physical contact.

“can we-” you paused, hesitant. “can we stay like this, for longer?”

he didn’t reply, instead he slid his hands beneath your armpits and picked you up, now carrying you, and let that answer your question.

you wrapped your arms around him and linked your feet together, letting him walk around the dormitory room and gently swaying you.

“i didn’t mean what i said earlier,i’m sorry.” you recalled what you called him, feeling a tinge in your heart because of it.

“don’t apologize, it’s not like i meant to actually mock you, did i? and i didn’t even apologize for that.” he replied,scolding himself in the last bit. you fight back a giggle at the last bit.

as much as you wanted to be able to stay like this for longer, sleep washed over you, your eyes began to fight your drowsiness, your eyes fluttering and you taking long blinks with force, eventually you blinked once, and your eyelids refused to open, having lost the fight.

he noticed your breathing steady and how you became physically heavier, how your hands let loose, and how your feet unlinked, so he went ahead and walked over to your bed and laid you down. God, you looked so serene, your chest rising up and down with ease, unlike how heavy your breathing was the previous days, then he looked closer to your face, and he noticed something.

you’re smiling, despite your tear-stained face.

that alone made his heart do backflips, how after a vicious weeping session you felt happy, with him out of all people. he tucked you in and then so-carefully slid in the bed with you, being mindful to not wake you up.

he didn’t need to pull you in, because as soon as he got into bed, you held him, put your head on his chest, then breathed him in and letting the breath out through your mouth, sighing softly, making him chuckle and hold you in return, kissing the top of your head.

“i love you, angel. sweet dreams” he said, his lips against your scalp. he then laid his head on your pillow, and closed his eyes.

[physalian]

An Obnoxiously Long Final Captive Prince Review

So I pissed off a fandom I thought was dead. Fun times.

The post that did it was written after an obscenely long travel day, after election week. I was already in a sour mood and that absolutely colored my review.

Could the review have waited? Well, yeah, but I don’t run a fandom blog and my last few posts about the CP fandom got like, 4 notes each. I was not expecting a response at all, certainly not the one I got, and I was venting and tired and did not plan out my argument very well.

Which, in all honesty, the backlash was constructive criticism of my thoughts on it by and large, and agreement with a few of my grievances, until it wasn't. I read a book that wasn’t written for me, didn’t like the themes written on the tin, complained about it, and got blasted for complaining about exactly what I asked for.

So, yeah, they’re mad. I get why.

Thing is.

My relationship with this series, and why I kept reading it even though I knew I wasn’t going to like how it ended, started way back when, when I found a fanfic for a fandom I adore heavily inspired by the events of this book (of which I had no idea existed at the time). Characters who weren’t canonically together fit into this foreign plot line extremely well. I read book 2 so fast because I thought I knew how it would end, given the similarities ripped straight from the page already in the works.

I kept reading because I was attached to my perception of this story, a story I already read nearly beat for beat with slightly different characters, and then went and disappointed myself. Is that CP’s fault? Nope. You can’t un-read things though, and I liked the fanfic’s take on the storyline better than the OG. Not CP’s fault.

Concerning the “why did you read this if it contains shit you hate, don’t like don’t read”.

Whenever I see a character in a situation like “I can have sex, or I can save my life/make the rational choice/do the right thing” and they pick sex, and suffer for it, I have zero sympathy. Damen was very smart, but he thought with his dick way too much for my tastes. Such is the tragedy of characters in romances, of which, I do not read. I only read CP because it was gay. If it was a straight romance I would not have gone near it.

But it stopped being just a romance novel in book 2.

That’s why I kept reading. I read book 1 out of morbid curiosity and almost put it down a dozen different times because both MCs were awful to each other. I hated Laurent for being a little abusive shit, I hated all the kinky sex, I hated how Laurent got away with every little thing he did, hated all the gratuitous assault, but I liked the characters. I wanted to see how they’d evolve and I could look the other way and skim for important details and appreciate the bits of the story I liked and by that point, the plot was eerily familiar and I wanted to see how far the similarities would go. By book 2 they felt above the tropes they started with, more refined and self-aware.

So let me try to make it clear: If this series had been simply three straight books of romanticized sex slaves with a hint of fantasy and the potential for great characters never realized, I would have been like “well this was terrible in a good way. It accomplished exactly what it set out to do.” I wouldn’t have kept reading it and wouldn’t have been at all attached to the characters I did like because then it really wouldn’t have been for me.

So while I’m not the target audience for the kinky smut and what I think is a long list of concerning tropes, I am very much the target audience for everything else. That’s what I stayed for, that’s why I kept reading, and that’s why I was so disappointed when the greatness of book 2 did not last all the way through to the end of book 3.

That was the TLDR.

—

Then I started book 2 and book 2 blew book 1 out of the water. It was so much better in every way. The characters suddenly had depth, the author flexed her skills hard on the scope of grand battles, made an amazingly clever character, had so many twists and turns and excellent tension and pacing and so much growth for the “enemies to lovers” plotline. Yes, thanks to that fanfic, I knew what would happen, but I read it anyway because I wanted to see exactly how she’d do it.

Unfortunately.

Book 2 set my expectations too high.

Gone were the excessive non-con kinks of book 1. I thought they were going in a new direction. The issues I had, with the sex slaves and the pedophilia, looked like they were going to be addressed—and Damen did say he would outlaw slavery.

But I kept waiting for things that never came. I didn’t hate Kastor because he was a bastard. I hate the vilifying of bastards. I felt horrible for this dude because his entire character was “the bastard idiot puppet of Jokaste”. He had nothing, no dialogue, no scenes, until he showed up in the 11th hour for a swordfight and then died. Of course he became a villain! Dude was the crown prince for… 9 years? I think? And then his perfect little brother shows up, gets granted his inheritance, and all he’s known for is being “the bastard”. Fuck yeah, he did some shady shit wanting attention and to right his world that went so wrong. I’m not justifying his actions at all, the punishments he doled out absolutely did not fit the crime, but boy do I understand why he did what he did.

Which, would not have happened if the world he lived in didn’t hate bastards so much. The book I read gave me no explanation, so I was left to draw my own conclusions. I read a book that inexplicably hated bastards, with a bastard villain firstborn son whose throne was stolen from him, and my first thought was "well maybe you should have been a little nicer to Kastor and we wouldn't be here, bigots".

Damen did not hate him, no. Damen loved his brother. Kastor ended up being a more symbolic threat than a legitimate character, but I guess I have sympathy for the devil.

The Regent, too felt much more symbolic than a real character. He doesn’t even have a name (similar to “The King” in TOG). He was fine and his machinations were felt across the battlefield even without him present. I have no issues with his existence. When I called the pedophilia lampshading—that’s totally on me I mixed up my trope terminology, sorry, again I was exhausted when I wrote it and I'm leaving the original post up for transparency—what I meant to say was this:

It didn’t bother me that the author wanted to vilify child sex slavery and included it to do so, and I appreciated how she made it clear these kids are manipulated and taken advantage of across every character it happened to. I just don’t think it was necessary to include, the way it was included. The Regent is a despicable person enough, adding being a pedo on top of all his other heinous crimes felt like, in a book dripping with noncon kinks, it was included for the sake of dressing these fictional kids up like prostitutes for the audience who likes to read that stuff. And I didn’t like how much of it factored into the overall plot. I didn’t like the undertone of “this is messed up but it’s okay if you secretly enjoy it” concerning Nicaise and the underage pets. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, absolutely.

However. Nicaise’s situation was not in the summary. I just checked it on Amazon. I would not have read this book if “by the way there’s child sex slaves in here” was clearly advertised. Adult sex-slaves, fine. Nicaise will never not bother me. This wasn’t a fanfic on AO3 that had a bunch of tags I could see and scroll past. I know how to avoid Dead Doves on AO3.

Even if it was necessary for the Laurent/Regent reveal, I think a story like The Magicians handled it much better? Similar scenario: childhood victim of abuse, perpetrator who the heroes initially look up to revealed for what he is, but there’s a way to include difficult themes without parading them around in silks and gold jewelry and I already made a post about it. At least in the TV adaptation of Magicians, what it showed you was the horror, the revulsion of what was happening to this future villain. Not for a second were the writers like “mmm, but it’s hot though” and that was a very kinky show.

Morbid curiosity got me through the Govart “wrestling match” too but this post is long enough.

But, book 1 was very clearly a kink fest, so, whatever.

Book 2 was so divorced from all the kink I fooled myself into thinking we'd turned a new and healthier leaf. I really, really did not like that Damen lied his way into Laurent’s bed.

Laurent didn’t tie him down or drug him or force himself onto Damen. Damen could have left that night in Ravenel. He could have said stop at any time, he knew Laurent was a good manipulator by that point. He could have even said no until Laurent had to force him or really be obvious, if only to the reader, that he was being manipulative, and the whole tone of the scene would have been wildly different.

Nobody cares, but in the fanfic version of that exact scene, the “Damen stand-in” has a crippling self-esteem problem and canonically thinks he doesn’t deserve to live for murdering his father to stop a genocide of his people. He’s lying about who he is, still, but that scene is rife with “I love him and I know he’ll never forgive me, so I’m going to let him use me and maybe selfishly enjoy it just a little bit” but it’s not at all his conquest of his lover. He makes sure he hurts when he doesn’t have to, to punish himself. All he cares about is that his lover has a good time because he feels awful for lying. When the "I knew all along" reveal does come, his lover reads that much more like an asshole, which he very much is.

Damen is not that character. I don’t know, maybe if he’d bottomed? Had any sense of “I am taking advantage of Laurent, this is not good”? It was played like they were on equal footing, but they were both lying to each other. Laurent was playing games and Damen was playing a caricature. Laurent could have easily become the clear-cut villain and Damen the naive victim, if Damen wasn't so damn eager to fuck him. It wasn’t romantic to me, it was off-putting.

The other thing that I was hoping for: For someone as smart as Laurent, did it never cross his mind that the Regent might find a way to tell Damen what happened between them? Laurent didn’t tell Damen before the trial, didn’t have any conversation before the book ended. Even if he would have hated having to be that vulnerable, I figured he’d fear Damen finding out from his uncle more. It would be such an easy thing for the Regent to exploit a la “you might have him now but I had him first”.

Shocked, actually, that the Regent did not do this, but it seemed like, though the “big reveal” was never actually addressed, Pacat was counting on the reader having figured it out, which I did way back in book 1. But because it ended up mattering so little to the overall plot and Laurent said absolutely nothing because a chapter later the book was over… why bother with this detail at all? What was it all leading up to? Why was it here? I knew the Regent was a scumbag. Have him murder Laurent’s puppy for the same effect.

It just felt. Unnecessary.

It also felt like there was a missing chapter at the end, because the last thing I wanted that never happened was just, addressing all the shit they did to each other. Laurent never had to answer for the flogging, for the assault, or for his own “I knew all along”. Nor did the “oh my fuck you killed my brother and my father” have much time to digest before the Regent was dead and the book was over. Missed potential, I guess?

—

When I said I liked Laurent, that did not mean I was a Laurent apologist. I like him like I like Maven Calore and Lelouch vi Britannia—he’s a magnificent bastard and I understand him perfectly.

With all of that said.

Yeah, I liked the series overall. I’d read it again. Wouldn’t recommend it to anyone I know, but there’s only one series I spend this much time writing about that I absolutely loathe and that’s Throne of Glass—another book that did not fully advertise what was within its pages. Like I said, book 2 was fantastic, poor communication between characters aside.

Book 3 was… lesser. It was a very long parade of “oh… that’s not what I thought was going to happen. I guess this is fine?” Not on the macro scale of expecting a huge fantasy battle, but on the smaller scale of Laurent being outed instead of telling Damen himself when they’d come so far and he trusted Damen so much, Kastor being a non-entity, a few too many “suddenly!” plot twists, and these two fucking instead of talking.

Other small issues being that with so many side characters of the same role and rank, I kept getting them mixed up. I knew who Jord and Nikandros were, but half the time I forgot who was Veretian and who was Akielon in the smaller group of 12, and line them all up in fanart and I’d have no idea who’s who.

The other other thing is that I thought the derivative worldbuilding was a bit lazy at times? I was a bit disappointed at how uncreative Akielos was. Vere was fantasy France but way less obvious than Akielos being fantasy Greece. Like, you can use the same cadence for your fantasy names as an existing language, but maybe get a bit more creative than changing "Delphi" to "Delpha"?

It’s a fantasy setting, you’re allowed to make shit up and get wild with a combination of cultures and lexicons. I liked that they weren’t all White, to be clear, but I read fantasy for fantasy.

Last thing I’ll say: I should not need supplemental reading material to understand why a book was written the way that it was. If I’d watched the TV show and fans were like “but in the book!” that’d be one thing. I interpreted what was on the page of the book I had, and if explanations and important context were missing, then they were missing. Death of the author. The additional context does help, but unfortunately it wasn’t actually in the book. What am I supposed to do?

So for the last time because I’m tired of upsetting this fandom and this is the last I’ll say to draw their attention, good or bad:

I had expectations for a book that this was not and was never going to be and I can’t blame it for not being the story I wanted to read. When it got good, I held it to high standards, and it fell short. That is all.