#on the other. it’s logically a good idea for him to not be so attached to durge (bane approves) and also he already had several months to

[shaykai]

Something something Gortash pointing his crossbow (gun) at a redeemed Durge and saying “I already mourned you”

[floralscented]

dean winchester x angel!reader — it's okay, it's okay.

or, dean breaks everything he touches, including himself. or, the first time dove has to use her grace.

cw, angst, injured!dean, he walks you through it kind of, dean whimpers but at what cost

word count: 2k

notes, this doesn't count toward my vote. if dean x angel wins u WILL get another i am loyal to my word!! i just got this idea n needed to get it out before i forget < 3 sorry ahead of time if it is 1) sad or 2) sucks it's late ok </3

★ ˚⋆

everyone always says the same thing when the worst comes true, but it reigns true every time - this was never meant to happen.

sure, dean could have been more careful. sure, he could have spent more time worrying about his mortal, breakable body, and not the ageless angel who'd attached to his hip. he'd gotten... used to it, more than anything, because accepting it wasn't the right word.

no, he did not want you at his side at every turn. that gave him another body to fuss over, to make sure didn't get hurt, no matter the cost. even if it was irrational. but dammit, it was you.

you were resilient. he was certain you could take care of yourself, but he panicked when he saw the claw emerging from the pitch black, heading right for your direction. dean knew, logically, that you sensed it coming, that you could have protected yourself-

he took the swipe of gashes to the shoulder anyways. a long swipe. shoulder to sternum - couldn't feel it through the daze of adrenaline, but he could feel the blood. so much blood, and so close to his heart-

"dean!"

your voice pulses in his ears like its own heartbeat. is he losing consciousness? fuck.

your footsteps pound on the dusty dirt trail in the forest, running up to where he was slumped against the nearest tree. dean coughed, blood staining his bottom lip, metal and copper clashing violently on his tongue.

"hi, dove," he whispers, trying to breath life back into his voice, falling just short. "little worse for wear, aren't i?"

"now is not the time for jokes." you kneel next to him, your eyes flitting quickly over his body until they land on the wet crimson slashes across his chest. "you bleed."

his lips quirk, even as the adrenaline is wearing and he's starting to feel the stark pain of the extent of his injuries, because he can't help it. "i do bleed," he says, wincing as the huff of laughter falls out of his mouth rips at his already ripped skin. "s'what happens when you get hurt."

"why did you get hurt?" you demand, fierce and defiant even when he's facing death. good god, he adored you. "i will live. i heal. you..."

dean knew. he knew this. how did he explain this to you, when you didn't even understand what his feelings meant?

"i've heard i look pretty good covered in blood," he says instead. "that true?"

your nimble fingers clamp hard on dean's jaw, forcing him to turn and look at you. so much feist in one ageless body. "now. is not. the time."

"you're so pretty," he breathes, his eyes melting in and out of focus. "so damn pretty when you're mad at me."

your face contorts in a mix of confusion and outrage. this, he thought, is why he doesn't tell you the other things he's been dying for in his mind. as much as dean loves your furious pout, as much as he loves the way you take that damn lip between your teeth again as you think how to stop his dying, it's better to keep you at a distance.

"the bag," dean nods to the duffel he'd dropped in his haste, a couple of feet from you, "get the bag for me, sweet girl."

he can sense the why? on your lips, and smiles, just slightly, when it doesn't come. too detrimental of circumstances for you to question is every ask and call, it seems. how bittersweet it is to be a priority only when he's dying.

you clamber back over with the bag, all but dropping it on his knee in your hurry. dean didn't even tell you what to look for before you'd unzipped it and started digging. "there's bandage wrap in there, somewhere," he rasps out, nodding his head toward you, even though you're not looking at him, "need it. to stop the bleeding."

your hands are shaking. he has nothing else to look at but you - wouldn't look anywhere else regardless - but it's the first thing his eyes lock on. "hey," he says, a little more firmly, even as it makes him wince, "s'okay. it's okay."

"you are dying, and i am useless." you snatch up a small square of shiny wrapping, and he has an explanation for why, exactly, he carries condoms everywhere, but you don't even question it. he forgot that you were too focused on him to be your usual, curious self. "this? will it protect you?"

dean pauses. now is not the time, your words echo in his head, and still, he can't help it. "protects a part of me."

you scoff, and he's upset, for a second, that the joke goes over your head. another thing he should have taught you about. upset again when you the condom also goes over your head and into the dirt with your dismissive toss.

should have. how dramatic was that? already thinking in past tense, because the pain has ebbed again, and that's never good. he was relatively calm before when he could feel it, knowing that, at the very least, it meant he could feel, but-

your hands pluck out the little roll of bandage, shaking fingers tugging at the loose end and starting to unravel it. "yeah, you've got it. not useless, dove," he mumbles, shaking his head like he vehemently denies that bogus claim. "never useless."

"what do i do with it?"

dean lifts his shirt up and over again, wincing again with a deep rumbling whimper as he feels the tear again of his skin, his muscles. a wave of nausea renders him dizzy and speechless. his arms stay raised, his vision swimming.

your irritation is so evident on your face that he's certain, right then, he's never seen you so frustrated. dean wanted to ask why, especially after all of the times you've asked him that. he didn't understand your irritation with yourself. all he needed from you was to cover up the wounds so that you could heal him without risk of him bleeding out.

"you want picked up?" you ask, tilting your head in front of dean's to force his eyes to focus on you again. "now is not the time, again."

"no-" he says, lips twitching in the corners. at the very least, you were keeping him present and conscious, what with all of your adorable attitude. he licks his dry, cracked lips and tries to ignore the copper taste on his tongue. "take that end and wrap it around. like..."

dean doesn't know if you know what a vest is, or a sash, because you don't seem to know half as much as castiel does. maybe what cas meant when he brought you into the winchesters' lives was that your naivety ran so deep because you were a new angel, a fawn trying to catch its footing and stumbling along the way.

he watches as it clicks in your mind, what he means. you are so much smarter than he gives you credit for. he leans forward, mouth falling open in a shuddery, whimpering gasp. luckily, you don't stop what you're doing and ask if he's okay. your care, it seems, either doesn't extend that far, or extends farther due to the gravity of the situation.

you straddle him as you wrap the gauze around and around, and it's damn distracting, having you this close to him again. "do it until you don't see any more of the claw marks, yeah?"

your head moves in a nod but your eyes never once leave him, focused on the task at hand. winding and winding, the gauze tightening and tightening, until his chest feels stiff with it.

"s'good," he says, raising his hand to rest his fingers on your wrist. "great job, sweet girl. here-"

his fingers walk their way down your hand until he takes the roll of gauze between them, moving the strip to his teeth and tearing until it ripped free from the roll. "there we go."

again, you stare at him expectantly, only this time, he's staring right back at you with the same anticipation in his eyes. "go on, dove. do your divine thing."

a blink. a second blink. "i don't know how."

his heart, he thinks, falls down to his ass. bypasses the gaping wound in his sternum and drops.

"that would have been great to know before i took the fucking-" he can't even be mad at you. he's dizzy, starting to shiver, and yet the idea of hurting you made him feel worse than all of those things combined.

"i did not ask you to!" no, you didn't, but what was a man who was used to jumping in front of the bullets to do? "i did not ask, and you were not supposed to be stupid."

dean forces a strained smile. "sweetheart, s'kind of my thing."

you bend down, still straddling, close enough that your nose brushes his. fuck. he was going to die without knowing what it was like to close that gap. "not the time-"

"for jokes, yeah, i- i get that," he grumbles, throat thick, spluttering on a cough. blood splatters in a hapless pattern on his shirt, on yours. "think i'm- allowed t'joke when i'm dyin'."

"you are not." your eyes stay locked onto his. there's so much passion in them that they glimmer and glitter even now, in the dead of night. "not, to either of those things. i will..."

dean hates your expression. the defeated, helpless panic in it a stark contrast to your resilient eyes. he wants to comfort you. wants to smooth the pinched skin between your brows with his thumb, but everything's starting to feel a little heavy. "cas-" his head thumps back against the wall. "uses his hands. touch."

your expression softens. there it is again, that determined gleam overtaking every other emotion on your face. there's my girl, he thinks, even though it's a thought he's never allowed himself to think before, about you. his inhibitions are lessened now, though, and who is he to hide a thing from you?

slowly, your hands lift to his cheeks, cupping his face between your palms. your skin is so warm, and his is so cold, and he can't look away from your eyes. dean's never believed in someone as much as he does you, right now.

your eyes close, and he's still looking. his head leans forward and knocks against yours, like he can't get close enough. he'd do anything to know what your lips tasted like. if they were as sweet as you were, or as furious as you tended to get.

"it's not-" you growl, and he opens his mouth to say something to counteract the rush of heat your gravelly voice shoots through his icy veins, when- "fuck it."

two beats of shock wrack through him, and he has no time, not a split second at all, to prepare for the way your mouth crashes into his. his eyes blink wide in shock before a wave of warmth starts in his chest and spreads like roots through his blood and deep in his veins. he sees the blue-white flash of your grace as it spreads around the both of you.

you pull back so suddenly that your lips pop, staring at him expectantly. no, not dean, his red soaked bandages on the outside of his torn shirt. you give him no time to process it before you're clawing at it, tearing it down the center. "jesus, dove-" his eyes drop down to follow your gaze.

the only remnants of his injury were the dried streaks of blood running down his chest, pale red and shiny in the areas still drying in the cold night air.

you laugh, soft and hesitant, and it's the prettiest noise dean has ever heard. "if i'd known i just had t'almost die t'get you to kiss me," he says slowly, "i'd have done it a lot sooner."

even if it was hardly a kiss - more of a collision. he'd just have to teach you how he liked it, later.

tags,

@figthoughts, @jasvtsc, @titsout4nicholas, @deanswidow, @whyyouegg,

@bombarda-babe, @whisperingwillowxox, @underground-secret,

@bitchykittenconnoisseur, @jensenacklesantidote,

@keira-kaz2y5, @ostaramoon, @depressionbarbie2023, @ultravi0lence14, @loverslantern,

@bleuatlas, @minettacreekk, @sthefferrete

[rileyslibrary]

HR thought it’d be a good idea to handcuff you and Ghost together as a team-building exercise. It wasn’t. Or was it?

Relationship: Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader

Word Count: 1,345 (approx. 5-6 min reading time)

Notes:

Fluff and the typical shenanigans

Warnings: language, suggestive content

For @ddiamondsdancing, who inspired me through her story

More of these.

———————————————————————

He secures one end of the handcuffs to your wrist and adjusts them.

“Is it okay?” He asks.

“It’s beautiful, Lieutenant, you shouldn’t have,” you reply and flick your wrist.

He makes a clicking sound with his tongue and rolls his eyes.

“I mean, does it hurt?”

He’s one of the most feared men on the base, yet he worries about hurting you. That’s… new.

You twist the handcuff, and he advises against fidgeting too much, asking you to let him know if it hurts so he can readjust it.

“No, it doesn’t hurt,” you finally say.

“Good,” he responds and clicks the other end of the handcuff to his wrist, “shall we get going?”

You nod.

Things have started changing around the base since HR got their hands on your superiors. They switched their focus away from resorting to punishment and toward more effective ways of communication.

That was all good and fun until Captain Price and the other higher-ups decided that this training shouldn’t be limited to them alone. They believed that everyone at the base could benefit from the same approach.

And here comes today, where you find yourself assigned to Ghost as a buddy with a pair of handcuffs—key not included—and instructed to spend the entire day helping each other. Or torment. Whichever comes first. Or more naturally.

He starts walking, but his strides are so broad that you get dragged along.

“Can you—” you struggle to find the words while keeping up, “can you chill for a second?”

He stops in his tracks, which causes you to bump into his back. You look at him, annoyed, and he stares down at you.

“You need to slow your pace, Lieutenant.”

“You need to pick up yours.”

“I can’t lengthen my strides,” you explain, “but you can shorten yours.”

He looks down at his boots briefly and lets out a sharp chuckle. You wonder what’s going through his mind. He turns his feet outward like a ballerina and starts taking little steps forward.

“Are you mocking me, Lieutenant?” you ask.

“Do you walk like that?” he asks back.

“No.”

“Then no, I’m not mocking you,” he replies, although you can hear the amusement in his voice. He stops and turns to face you.

“Go on,” he says, gesturing with his head for you to move to the front, “you take the lead, and I’ll adjust my walk.”

The rest of the day wasn’t easy, but it was manageable.

You went to the training room, where you had to do the same exercises simultaneously and adjust to each other’s pace to get work done, except in some cases where the Lieutenant wanted to put in more reps. So you sat on the ground, cross-legged, with your hand attached to his, and waited until he finished his push-ups.

“Ready to hit the showers with me, Lieutenant?” You tease and anticipate his reaction.

He stands up and helps you off the ground.

“From bonding to bondage...” He says, and you immediately get flustered. You weren’t expecting this kind of reaction, that’s for sure.

“Tempting offer, soldier,” he says in a flirtatious tone, “but first, you have to tell me...”

He pauses and seizes you, looking at you from head to toe. Your heart beats so fast in your chest that you can feel your pulse in your throat and head.

“...how are you going to remove your shirt?” He asks and shakes your handcuffed hands.

Good question. But you won’t let logic, or Ghost, take hold of you now.

“When there is a will, there is a way, sir,” you reply. “I can cut through it.”

“And what about putting another shirt on afterwards?” he adds, raising an eyebrow. “Will you be sewing one back on?”

You sigh and roll your eyes. “Always with the logistics, aren’t you?”

“Someone has to think ahead,” he explains, pulling you gently to keep moving, “just in case we have to explain to HR why we’re both handcuffed and naked.”

Touché.

You organised the warehouse for your next task, and the handcuffs forced you to communicate and collaborate more closely than ever before. Navigating through the cluttered aisles and shelves became a shared challenge. You relied on each other’s strengths to find the best way forward. Every movement had to be coordinated, and every decision was made together.

Even when you wanted to take a break and have a snack, he helped you by holding up your water bottle while you munched on your sandwich. It was as if the handcuffs became a synonym for unity and teamwork rather than restraint and suppression. You had to trust each other’s judgement and, by combining your resourcefulness, turn every obstacle into an opportunity.

Up until you had to pee.

“Can’t you hold it in?”

“Until the end of the day?” You ask, squeezing your legs together, “No way, Lt., sorry. I—we have to go now.”

“No wonder why,” he snaps and pulls you with him, “you drank the entire water bottle.”

“It was you who fed me the entire water bottle,” you snap back and follow him to the toilets. “You were squeezing too much water in my mouth—that’s why it went empty.”

You approach the bathroom stall and squeeze into one of the cubicles. Ghost looks away to allow you some privacy.

“Sir?” You ask, and he turns halfway.

“I need your hand; I mean my hand to unzip my pants.”

He lets out a long exhale and relaxes his arm, so you can use it as you wish. With his hand very close to your zip, you pull down your pants and squat.

But nothing’s coming out. You need more privacy, and unfortunately, under these circumstances, you had none. How didn’t HR think of that? The HR, of all the departments!

“You done?” He asks with his head facing the door.

“I haven’t started yet,” you explain. “I’m feeling a bit uncomfortable.”

“A couple of hours ago, you wanted to shower together, but now you’re uncomfortable peeing in my presence?”

“That’s different, Ghost; I think you know that.”

And, as if things weren’t awkward enough, someone knocks on your bathroom door. Ghost lifts his heels and peeks from the top of the door. He instinctively turns halfway to talk to you, but you kick him to look in front.

“It’s Janet from HR,” he jokingly tells you. “Want to say hi?”

“What the hell, Ghost?” You whisper, “Shut up.”

He chuckles and then turns to face her.

“Sorry, ma’am,” he apologises, “you’re going to have to find another loo; we’re trying to pee in this one.”

You glance at Ghost’s back, and your face flushes with embarrassment.

“We’re... experiencing a tiny issue, Janet,” you explain, “the handcuffs, you see...”

Before you can finish your explanation, Ghost interrupts you.

“It’s a team-building exercise, Janet!” He says in a threatening tone while peeking at Janet, who’s hurrying out of the bathroom, “We’re exploring new levels of trust and communication; ISN’T THAT WHAT YOU FUCKERS WANTED US TO DO?”

“GHOST!” You shout.

“What?” he asks, acting innocent. “They should have considered the consequences before implementing stupid shit.”

“Speaking of shit...”

“Don’t tell me you have to do that as well,” he says, throwing his head back. “We’re going to stay here forever.”

“No,” you reply, “I’m done—your feud with Janet helped me.”

With Ghost’s help, you zip up your pants, wash your hands—all four of them—and head to Price’s office, where you’re about to report how the team-building exercise went. In return, you will receive the key to your handcuffs.

You stand at the captain’s door with several other soldiers, handcuffed in pairs.

“I’ll miss you, Lt.,” you whisper, “my other half.”

He chuckles and shakes his head.

“No, really,” you continue, “who will I have now to unzip my pants when I want to pee and squeeze the fucking ocean in my mouth when I want water.”

“Don’t worry,” he replies, “I’m sure you’ll find another poor soul to torture.”

“You would like that, wouldn’t you?”

“No,” he says, taking your hand discreetly and interlocking your fingers in his, “not one bit.”

———————————————————————

[suzukiblu]

Day thirty of “obligatory sugar baby Kon” behind the cut, the final day!! Eyyyyy, gang, we did it! Full month of daily updates for this one, haha. Ended up writing about 24k, give or take a few hundred words. prev: (( chrono || non-chrono ))

The alert on his communicator goes off again, and then again a few seconds later. Tim represses another frown. Nobody double-texts him on Tim Drake’s phone. The only people who ever would are Dick and Steph, and Dick never texts Tim Drake’s phone outside of emergency situations where Tim’s not suited-up and Steph doesn’t have Tim Drake’s number at all; they just use burners and the occassional dead drop. So who . . . ? 

The alert goes off a fourth time. Tim definitely doesn’t panic, but also definitely turns his wrist in his lap underneath the fall of his cape and taps the little armored pocket where he hides one of his micro-receivers for situations where he can’t pull the full-sized one out of his utility belt without being obvious about it. Cissie’s distracted with whatever’s distracting Cassie and neither of them can see his eyes behind the lenses of his mask, so it’s not difficult to slip it into his palm and out from under his cape to glance down at as he thumbs it open to wake up the tiny little screen. Four text alerts, and the caller ID is scrolling “UNKNOWN NUMBER” across the screen. 

Okay, so his civilian number is getting spam texts now. Jesus, he was worried, that’s so–

The actual number of the unknown number scrolls across the screen after the text. Tim . . . blinks. 

. . . that’s Kon’s number. Specifically, the number of the phone he bought Kon. Who is literally right outside, according to Cassie, and . . . texting somebody. While he’s out there. While he’s out there, and Tim is in here, and is being Robin. 

Tim has literally no idea how he feels about this situation, and honestly neither does Robin.

He opens the text log, and there are, in fact, four texts from Kon in it. 

so like 

superweird questin 

liek uh rly superweird tbh but uh 

cn u wish me luck babe??

Tim stares blankly at the messages. “Wish me luck”? That’s–what? 

Good luck, Kon, he texts back after a moment, figuring it’s the logical response anyway and assuming that using the other’s real name will help him feel better about whatever he wants the aforementioned “good luck” for. He’s going to have to try and get a read on him when he comes in, see if he can’t work that out. If it’s something to be concerned about . . . 

thx, Kon sends back with a blue heart emoji and literally nothing else. 

Blue, Tim thinks, yet again having to repress a frown. What the hell does a blue heart mean? Does that mean anything? 

He barely bites back the question, because it’s way too risky to ask even if if anyone knows what different-colored heart emojis mean it is definitely a teenage girl and if he texts Steph with a random question with no context attached and then doesn’t stick around to talk she’ll get annoyed and might leave another glitter bomb in their next dead drop. 

He really doesn’t wanna have to explain glitter in his cape to Bruce again. Or worse, explain glitter in his cape to Alfred. Alfred did not appreciate the glitter tracked all over the cave last time. Very, very much did he not appreciate it. 

Maybe Kon just picked it because he likes blue. Or maybe red seemed like too much to him? Or maybe– 

“I’m back!” Suzie announces excitedly as she spills into the room, and Bart bolts through her smoke trail a moment later and stops on a dime right next to the kitchen table. 

“What’s going on?” he asks, wrinkling his nose down at Cissie and Cassie. “Are you crying? Is it because your wig looks weird? It’s not that weird. I mean, kinda.” 

“That HeroWatch magazine thinks it’s your real hair!” Suzie offers brightly. “So it can’t be that weird.” 

“I am not crying and HeroWatch thinks what?!” Cassie demands, whipping her head up to stare at them both with a horrified expression. “It’s not even real hair! It’s like, synthetic! I buy the stupid things off Amazon!” 

“You should stop doing that,” Tim advises reflexively. There are so many ways for that to end badly for her secret identity. Genuinely so many that he doesn’t even know where to start, in fact. 

“And do what instead, exactly?” Cassie asks with a sullen scowl, leaning back just enough to fold her arms. “I can’t just clear out Spirit Halloween every–” 

She cuts herself off and stiffens, then jerks to her feet very quickly and straightens her wig and jacket even quicker. Tim has half a second to remember that while Cassie’s hearing isn’t super, it’s definitely enhanced, and then Kon walks into the room. 

“Yo,” he says, half-waving a hand at the table and then making a face. “Shit, I’m the last one here? Figures.” 

Tim . . . blinks. Blinks again. Cassie looks downright agonized, and Suzie and Bart both tilt their heads in opposite directions. Cissie raises both eyebrows and looks him up and down. 

“Jesus Christ, Kon, that is borderline indecent expo–” she starts incredulously, and Cassie immediately claps a hand over her mouth and leans down to hiss into her ear: “Cissie, you are my best friend and I love you and shut the hell up right the hell NOW.” 

Tim attempts to make his brain work. It needs to, like–do things. Be usable. Functional. Brain . . . able. 

The problem with that is the fact that Kon is currently wearing the tiny little jean shorts that first made Tim aware of the existence of the other’s thighs and the S-shield crop top that people really should have more respect for Superman than to have made and sold commercially with his usual leather jacket and sunglasses and a pair of heavy black boots that Tim also bought him, plus the sapphire stud earring from their last date with a little bit of eyeliner and chipped black nail polish and . . . thighs. Just–thighs. Kon is very, very much wearing thighs right now. 

. . . thighs.

Tim suddenly understands literally everything about the way Cassie came in acting and literally everything she’d said on top of that. Also, he isn’t sure, but he thinks maybe this is worse than the changing room was? Like, this might be worse than the changing room was. Because Kon’s not posing to show himself off like he was there, and “Tim Drake” isn’t here for him to be showing off for. So Kon is, presumably, wearing this outfit just because he wants to be wearing it. 

Tim needs a minute. Or a year. Or maybe a hard reboot and a new identity and a new reality to move to. Not permanently or anything, just until he can remember how to function like a reasonably-normal person again or he needs to send Kon his allowance, whichever comes first. 

It’s going to be the allowance, he already knows. It’s definitely, definitely going to be the allowance. 

“Huh,” Suzie says, looking a little perplexed. 

“Oh, is that what hormones are?” Bart says, looking surprised. “Weird.”

[koqabear]

(Un)Professional

♫: te pongo mal, Kali Uchis

“When Soobin struck up the proposition to be friends with benefits, he did it under the guise of remaining single and focusing on his music, adamant on keeping things “professional”— god forbid anyone else tries to get with you though, because maybe he didn’t really mean it when he told you no strings attached.”

Soobin x fem!reader

Genre: fwb to ???, pwp, kinda angst, smut, rockstar!au

Word count: 4.5K

warnings: soobin is actually kinda mean and toxic but they have their little redemption arc idk TT… barely edited sorry

smut warnings: mean/hard dom! soobin, sub!mc, mc is kinda bratty, so also brat tamer soobin hehe, rough sex, unprotected sex, pet names, (pretty, baby, etc.) possessiveness, jealousy, degrading, thigh riding, dry humping, breast play, edging, marking, biting, oral (f. rec.), fingering, dacryphilia, hair pulling, dumbification, creampie (lmk if i should add anything!)

Notes: this is a mini series that was made simply because i am an indecisive loser. don’t ask why i was listening to reggaeton for a rockstar au, it just happened 😭 also i wrote all these parts after midnight bc that’s the only time i was able to write i guess— in other words… don’t expect too much from this. 

Soobin doesn’t do relationships. 

There’s no room for something as fragile as that in his life, at least not when he’s traveling to a new state every day for his tours— the last thing Soobin would ever do is fuck up what he already has just for something as fickle as love. 

However, he is a man with needs— needs that are gladly fulfilled by you, his pretty best friend that always travels with them. 

He’s known you long enough to have struck up this arrangement confidently; knowing there would be no strings attached, not able to form any feelings for someone he’s been content being just friends with for— well, forever. 

So this— his pounding heart, his brows that furrow together with frustration, his hands that grip his microphone a little tighter— is definitely new. 

There is no logical reason as to why he should be feeling like this; there’s no logical explanation as to why it’s been such an eyesore to watch Yeonjun interact with you the whole night, watching the way the man not so subtly sends winks and coy smiles in your direction, Soobin’s lips being bitten at as he watches the way you merely smile cutely in response. 

You don’t even act this way with him; every time you’ve come to their shows, you’ve always made it a point to act normal whenever Soobin comes around— just enough excitement to make you seem like a fan, but not enough to make it seem like you know him— you’ve learned this the hard way.

“Tone it down a bit next time, yeah?” Soobin told you once, as you laid in his hotel bed and surfed through the tv channels with droopy eyes, “If we’re gonna keep doing this, we should be professional about it.”

His words garnered a massive roll of your eyes— what the fuck did he even mean by that? It’s a concert, of course you had to seem excited— but it seems as though you took his comment to heart, watching the way your excitement dies down the moment Soobin approaches your side. 

No one’s watching you— no one cares about what faces you make or what you say when Soobin stands before you, but the thought of him telling you to keep it professional pisses you off so much that you decide to show him just how good of an actress you are; the difference of reactions is almost incredible, and you take in the way Soobin’s eyes narrow at the sight of you. 

There’s no reason he should get mad— after all, there’s nothing between you. 

Agreeing to this was a stupid idea. What kind of a self-destructive freak agrees to be friends with benefits with someone they had feelings for? A self-destructive freak like you apparently, because as you watch Soobin leave with one last glance at you, you can’t help but wish that he was just a bit mad. 

The two of you distract yourselves in your own ways; Soobin tries not to visit your section for the rest of the night, and you try to get the attention of the rest of the members in response— and the boys, surprised to see your excited attitude when they come around, are more than happy to oblige— and if the fans noticed that Soobin seemed to be in a bad mood for part of the show, well, that’s on him.

You feel a bit more tired than usual by the time the concert ends— you’re not sure why, but you find yourself trudging backstage because of that; maybe you should just go to the hotel instead of congratulating the boys for their show like you usually do. 

“Oh, hey ___!” Yeonjun spots you before you can turn on your heels and exit; you’re immediately putting on a bright smile as the said man throws an arm around you, still in his encore outfit as he drags you along the halls and undoubtedly to where the rest of the members are, “What’d you think of the concert? It was good huh?”

“As always,” you smile, nudging Yeonjun softly as he clearly waits for you to continue, “You were great out there, your energy was insane.”

“Why thank you,” he purrs, leaning in and watching as you scoff at him playfully, “Watching you enjoy yourself practically gave me all the energy I needed.”

You don’t find yourself surprised by his comment; Yeonjun is always like this, his flirty and suggestive behavior nothing out of the ordinary as you simply scold him to get out of your face— you’re so caught up in bickering with the man that you don’t notice the heated stare of another, brows twitching at the way you laugh and play along with Yeonjun.

After a moment though, you feel it— your head is turning before you can really process it, and you’re meeting eyes with Soobin, who looks… well, pissed off.

Before you can get a good look at his face, he’s standing abruptly; taking long strides to where you are, your heart beginning to pound at the sight of him slowing to a stop next to you. 

“Meet me outside.” His voice is gruff and on edge as he whispers the words lowly to you, walking off without another word as you simply turn to watch— because of course he wouldn’t try to get Yeonjun off you or outwardly ask for your attention, choosing instead to relay you a quiet message before he’s off, regardless of the way everyone sends him a confused look as they watch him leave. 

“He looks mad,” Yeonjun hums, watching as you shrug his arm off gently, “Gonna try to talk to him?”

You sigh, hoping he doesn’t see the way your hands grab at the hem of your shirt anxiously. 

“Yeah,” you say, then you’re off, barely able to turn the corner once you’ve exited before you’re harshly pulled by none other than Soobin.

“Ow— what the fuck—!” Soobin’s hold on your wrist is bruising as he pushes you into the room next door, a changing room that’s not meant to hold multiple people as he simply locks the door behind him and pushes you against the wall; he doesn’t bother to turn on the lights as he approaches you— the light that comes through the frosted window on the door becomes the only thing that allows you to see Soobin’s frustrated expression. 

“Had fun flirting with the others?” He asks, his lips so close that you’re able to feel the puff of his breath as he huffs in frustration— the room is so small as you press yourself against the wall, feeling as though Soobin is filling your senses and making you dizzy, “Was that your little way to try and get my attention? Because it fucking worked, you poor little thing.”

“The fuck are you talking about?” you hiss, pressing a hand against Soobin’s chest as you feel him try to swoop in to kiss you, his hands already sliding under the hem of your shirt to trace shapes along your skin, “I’m friends with the others too, you know.”

“Have you always been this friendly with them? Hmm?” he asks, slotting a knee between your legs as you’re left to look up at him speechlessly, “What, gonna try to fuck them next?” 

“Dude, what’s your fucking problem!” you hiss, punctuating your words with a punch to his chest as you glare at him, not lost upon the fact that his thigh is pressed firmly against your cunt, your skirt fanning along his leg and hiding the way he’s flexing and pushing it against you.

“And if I wanted to, then what?” you ask, pretending as though you haven’t given in to the way Soobin’s hands are guiding your hips, making you grind against him as he feels the way you become wet by his actions, “What’ll you do, get jealous? Try to stop me? That wouldn’t be very professional of you— I might as well ask Yeonjun if he’s free after this.”

“Don’t get fucking smart with me,” He says, a hand coming up to grab your cheeks and tilt your head toward him, “I’m not letting any other bitch get with you, touching what’s mine.”

It’s just his arrogance and possessiveness talking again— at least that’s what you tell yourself, failing to hold back your weak whimper as you roll your hips against him, feeling him press against your hip and rut his hard cock against you slowly. 

“I’m not fucking yours,” you grit out, your words muffled as you try to speak through the hold that Soobin still has on you, “The only reason why we’re still friends is so you can get a good fuck, don’t lie—”

Soobin is kissing you before you can finish your sentence— if he wasn’t angry before, he definitely was now, his teeth clashing against yours as he kisses you roughly and without control, a mess of spit as he bites down on your lip, drinking in your pained moan before he’s slipping his tongue in to get a taste.

He’s noticed the way your hips have begun to move erratically; your hands are gripping tightly at his shirt, probably stretching it out as you continue to moan into his mouth, a hand guiding your movements as he flexes and presses his thigh firmer against you, his free hand letting go of your face to slip under your shirt and get access to your breasts as he begins to roll and pinch your nipples between his fingers. 

“Do you like it when I treat you like this?” he asks breathlessly, finally pulling away to watch the way a string of saliva continues to connect you— the sight is filthy and has your brows furrowing as you bite your swollen lips in hopes to muffle your sounds, “Like you’re nothing more than a fucktoy for me to use after my shows? A good little thing to take my stress out on?”

The pleasure is beginning to build up— there’s a tight knot in your stomach, making your brain go foggy as you feel the way your clit rubs against Soobin’s thigh every time you angle your hips a certain way, feeling as you soak your panties and his sweats the longer you rut against him.

Soobin simply watches you with a small smile; his eyes are lidded as he leans back, eyes glued to the way you roll your hips against him, weak whines becoming louder and more frantic as you begin to pull at his shirt with wide, teary eyes. 

But before you can finally cum, he pulls away. You’re whining softly at the loss, hitting his chest petulantly as you curse at him under your breath— before you can land another hit, he grabs your wrists, freezing you entirely as he sends you a sly look, leaning in so he can whisper in your ear.

“You’ll let me fuck you, right? You can always go to someone else if you need to cum,” he says, waiting for your response as he begins to kiss and suck at the spot just under your ear, knowing how sensitive you are as he feels the way you attempt to curl into yourself.

“Fuck you,” you whine out, attempting to shake his hold off you, only to fail— he simply laughs softly, sinking his teeth into the marked flesh as he listens to the yelp you let out. 

“I’m trying,” he huffs out, finally pulling away as he sends you a childish grin, “Now be good and turn around for me, okay sweet thing?”

The nickname catches you so off guard that you don’t protest the way Soobin turns you around without another word, your cheek pressed against the wall and your hands held behind your back as you continue to curse at him quietly— and judging by the way Soobin simply laughs softly, he’s definitely enjoying himself, shameless as ever as you listen to the sounds of shifting behind you.

You hope he doesn’t notice the way your breath hitches as you feel him push your panties aside, his tip brushing against your entrance— swiping at your leaking slit to gather your wetness, clearly teasing you as he takes in the way you try to push back against him, letting out a soft please as you feel his tip sink into you slightly, feeling the way you stretch around him before he’s pulling back out.

“Please? Why are you begging for me, baby?” he asks, slowly beginning to push in as he watches you rest your forehead against the wall, letting out a shaky sigh at the stretch, “I’m not here for you— you can go to another one of your toys if you’re looking for someone to worship you.”

You can’t bring yourself to say anything as you feel him bottom out inside you— no matter how many times you find yourself in this situation, you can never get used to it, the size of him enough to have your eyes rolling back as you feel his tip prod at your cervix, hips flush against your ass as he begins to grind softly into you. 

It’s not enough— not for you, and certainly not for him, though he refuses to give you the pleasure of fucking you stupid so soon as he watches instead the way you begin to squirm, wanting more as you hang your head and try to fuck yourself against him— all attempts are quickly stopped as Soobin uses a hand to still your movement, firm on your waist and forcing you back against the wall as the other continues to bind your hands, pressing your fists against the small of your back and watching with a sly smile as you begin to arch in response. 

“Why are you so quiet?” he asks softly, leaning in to trail kisses along your neck, continuing his slow and agonizing pace, “Usually you’re so loud I have to keep a hand on your mouth.”

You refuse to give into him— refuse to let him hear what he wants, ignoring the ache between your legs and the fire in your stomach that just begs to be put out— but the way you’re leaking around Soobin’s length and clenching around him is giving you away, and it’s enough to have you turning away from him in hopes that he won’t be able to read your expression. 

This proves to be harder than you expected; Soobin’s hand has let go of your waist in favor to play with your clit, nimble fingers circling and pinching the bud as he begins to thrust shallowly, listening to the way you try to swallow your sounds and keep your eyes shut at the feeling— it isn’t long before he’s building you up again, taking in the way your legs shake and you begin to push back against him subconsciously, giving away just how needy you are as your fists tighten. 

You’re close, so fucking close, maybe if you stay quiet Soobin won’t notice— but, for a man who insists you two aren’t anything, he’s eerily aware of the way your body gets when you’re about to cum— meaning, all his movement immediately stops the moment you’re about to tumble over the edge, bottoming out inside you and laughing mockingly as he listens to the broken sound you let out. 

“Fuck, I’m so tired from today’s show,” Soobin groans, resting his forehead on your shoulder, beginning his slow, shallow thrusts again after a moment, “You don’t mind if I take it slow tonight, do you?”

You say nothing— you have yet to say anything that would irritate or please Soobin, and that in itself is enough to egg him on— because even if you refuse to talk, the way your body trembles from his touch and you bite your lips to suppress sounds is enough to tell him all he needs to know. 

The way you clench around Soobin when he begins to play with your clit almost has him cumming— he has to concentrate on not doing so as he takes in the weak whine you let out, your previous orgasms being built up once more as you let out a shaky sigh, listening to the wet sounds that come from the way Soobin fucks you. 

You’re trying so hard to remain neutral as he winds you up— but god, he knows you like the back of his hand, his hips rutting and rolling into you as he does everything to make you go insane, already feeling your high creep up on your from how up-tight your body is. 

“Feels good?” He asks, using your hands as leverage as he pulls you back into him for a particularly harsh thrust— the suddenness of it has you moaning loudly, your lips immediately pressing together as you feel your face grow hot— Soobin’s cocky laugh is both annoying and hot and you hate yourself for feeling that way. 

“Don’t worry, you don’t have to say anything,” he grins, picking up his pace as he watches the way you begin to break, weak moans and whines leaving you from how harshly he thrusts his cock into you, “I’ll do all the work, just stand there and look pretty, okay?”

You can feel your high approaching— it’s intense and fast, and you’re barely able to process the way your mouth falls open as you begin to chase the feeling, ready to fall over the edge and cream all over Soobin’s cock when—-

Like an absolute jerk, he pulls out. 

“You know what?” he says, talking more to himself than anything as he turns you back around and tucks himself back in, your back colliding with the wall behind you as your breath hitches, watching as he falls to his knees and sends you an innocent look, “I haven’t tasted you in so long, baby— fuck, I can’t help myself, I’ll be quick.”

Soobin is never like this— you’ve only ever experienced quickies backstage, so to say that you’re surprised to see the man dragging things out here is an understatement, letting out a shaky sigh as he throws your leg over his shoulder and scoots closer to you, burying himself under your skirt without hesitation. 

You’re practically dripping on the floor— it’s even worse when his fingers begin to prod at your entrance, feeling the way your walls clench wildly at the feeling and your hips thrust toward the sensation; Soobin’s tongue licks at your clit teasingly, taking his time to trace circles around it as he finally sinks his fingers inside you, curling them and pressing against all your sensitive spots as he takes in the way you squirm above him. 

Soobin’s face is practically suffocated by your cunt— you’re not sure how long he does this for, but he proceeds to bring you close to orgasm only to pull away a few more times, listening to the way you begin to cry and plead a bit more with each one. 

At some point— your fifth ruined orgasm, you think you’ve lost count— you find yourself pulling at his hair and begging, the words stuttered out through hiccups as you feel hot tears stream down your cheeks, pleading Soobin to let you cum as you grind your pussy along his face, feeling his tongue dip to your entrance before he’s back to teasing your clit, laughing softly at the sound before he finally emerges from under your skirt— his face is shiny and flushed as he looks up at you, sending you a grin that only has you pouting even more. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks, feigning concern as he begins to run his hands along your thighs, waiting patiently for you to respond as he begins trailing kisses up your legs, hearing your soft sniffles as he reaches your inner thighs, “Aren’t you enjoying yourself?”

“Soobin,” you whine, shutting your eyes as you feel his swollen lips leave opened-mouthed kisses on your inner thighs, already soaked with your arousal as he licks it up, only to begin biting and sucking at the area leisurely, “Soobin please—please let me cum, wanna cum so bad, please.”

The sound of your begging is welcomed to his ears— he looks up at you through his lashes, sparkling eyes a stark contrast to the filthy way he continues to mark your thighs, ignoring your soft whines that others will see them, please binnie…

“Others will see them?” he repeats, clenching his jaw at the way you nod frantically, a clear concern in your eyes— slowly, he stands, hooking your leg over his waist as he presses himself against you, hissing softly at the way you immediately soak through his sweats, “So what? Let them see. That way they know what happens when we’re alone.”

“But… we shouldn’t— you said we need to keep this hidden…” His words are nothing but confusing— you’re sure it reads on your face, because Soobin is aligning his cock with your entrance once more, chuckling softly at your expression before he shakes his head in exasperation.

“Did I? Well, I don’t wanna hide it anymore,” he says, eyes lidded and filled with need as he sinks himself slowly into you; your eyes are threatening to flutter shut at the sensation, only to be stopped at the feeling of Soobin cupping your chin, telling you softly look at me. before he finally bottoms out.

“Want everyone to know you’re mine,” he says, and you’re more than ready to respond with another mean comment before he continues, “And that I’m all yours. Don’t want anyone else to touch you.”

“W…what—?” your words are being cut short by the feeling of him fucking into you again, a hand coming up to grab his shoulder and your leg pulling him in closer in fear of having your orgasm ruined again— Soobin simply huffs, his hands going to hold onto your hips to fuck into you better, indulging in your fucked out face and dazed eyes as he smiles softly; slowly, he’s leaning in, lips brushing against yours as he speaks. 

“‘m so fucking stupid for starting all this,” he laughs softly, holding back a moan at the way you clench around him, your nails digging into your shoulder slightly, “Told myself I’d never catch any feelings like this— fuck, look at me now…”

“Just wanna keep you for myself— maybe I’m being selfish but… fuck,” you think you’re getting the gist of what he means— your free hand comes up to tangle itself in his hair as you close the gap between the two of you, hoping that you’re not misinterpreting his words as you feel him fuck you faster, setting a rhythm that has your eyes rolling back and your mouth falling open, so wound up from tonight that you think your legs might give out any moment now. 

“Soobin,” you whine out, pulling at his hair and shirt as you begin bucking your hips at him, trying to fuck yourself on his cock as you whine, “Please let me cum— please please please, need it so bad, just wanna cum, please?”

The way you’re whining and begging is more than enough to Soobin; he’s gripping your hips and fucking you harder, eyes widening slightly at the way your sounds increase in volume, too fucked dumb to even realize.

“Shit,” Soobin grits out, planting his hand on your mouth and telling you to quiet down, “You were really holding back, huh? There’s my girl, all loud and pretty for me.”

He’s cooing softly at the way tears well up in your eyes and spill promptly after; running over his skin, biting at his lip to suppress sounds of his own as he feels the way you become impossibly tight around him.

“You gonna cum? Pretty doll just wants to cream my cock, finally had enough of me using you, right?” The way you’re nodding mindlessly only spurs Soobin on, insanely turned on by the way you’ve become fucked stupid, “Come on baby, show me how good you feel, been waiting patiently to cum, such a perfect doll.”

He’s cooing softly and talking you through your orgasm— you don’t even realize that your legs have given out, and Soobin’s hands are flying to support you as he holds you up, pressing himself fully against you and grinding his hips into you as your head falls on his shoulder; your sounds are muffled by the fabric of his hoodie as you bury your head further into him, pressed entirely against the wall and left to Soobin’s mercy as you allow him to continue rutting into you slowly.

“Binnie,” you whine out, right next to his ears as you begin to speak quietly to him, “Want you to cum inside, fill me up please? Never wanted any other guys but you, just wanna feel you cum inside, please…”

Your soft pleas set Soobin off immediately— his hips are bucking into you so roughly that your body is jolting with every thrust, his head burying itself in your neck as he lets out a soft groan— you then feel the way he fills you up, warm cum staying inside from the way he continues to fuck you well after he’s calmed down, his shuddering breaths on your skin enough to know that how sensitive he is.

For a moment, you just stay there; pressed against the wall as Soobin slowly pulls his cock out of you, feeling the way his release begins to drip out from how much he filled you— your chest is heaving against his as you attempt to catch your breath, legs still weak as you take advantage of Soobin’s strength to help hold you up. 

Soobin’s arms wrap around your waist; he’s pulling you in even closer, your bodies melting together as he nuzzles his head into your neck, inhaling slowly as your own hesitant hands come up to embrace Soobin.

“Sorry I was so horrible to you,” he says, littering kisses on the exposed skin of your neck before he continues, “But I did mean that whole thing about catching feelings— the timing’s horrible, I know— but….”

You hum softly, as though lost in thought, “How long have you felt like this?”

“I… this whole time,” he admits, his face growing hotter at the confession, “I was just in denial half the time we did this whole thing— god, why do you think I suggested it in the first place…?”

You hold back a laugh— Soobin however, is nervous at your lack of reaction, pulling away from his hiding place to analyze your expression.

“I’m sorry. Is this weird? I understand if you don’t feel the same way, I’m really sorry if you felt uncomfortable with anything I did today, I seriously don’t know what I was thinking—“

You’re cutting him off with a kiss— but it’s gentle this time, and you really take a moment to feel his soft lips as you feel him smile against you, his cheeks warm under your touch as you finally pull away. 

“Soobin,” you say softly, smiling fondly at the way he lets out a soft hmm? in response, “I feel the same. But yeah, you were a fucking jerk with me.”

“I’m sorry,” he says immediately, cupping your face as he sports the look of a kicked puppy, eyes filled with nothing but guilt, “I’m sorry, I seriously never meant to go that far, I should’ve just asked you out like a normal person instead of being so mean.”

“I don’t know,” you say, pouting softly as his eyes widen softly, seemingly afraid of what you might say; you simply peck at his lips chastely, unable to hold back your laugh at his expression, “I kinda liked it.”

Your words are horribly confusing to Soobin— but hey, at least he knows how you feel. 

[rosyandraw]

idk if this is redundant on your end but thoughts on Damen needing to talk during sex? in the books it isn’t even dirty talk it’s just endless want for Laurent and how long he’s been waiting for him and how different Laurent feels. Also in canon & in ur own writing

Definitely not redundant! You have just knocked on the Damen Character Study door in my head lmao but it's late and idk how much sense this will make so i'm sorry in advance.

Mini meta on Why Damen Likes to Talk During Sex in Canon

First and foremost words are hugely important to Damen, not just during sex but in general. It is part of the reason that Vere trips him up so badly, why he just doesn’t get it. Because Vere is a veil of word play and innuendo, it’s double speak and flowery bullshit and lies.

That’s not Damen. His word is his bond, it’s tied to his honour and they mean a great deal to him. He never says anything he doesn’t mean. Ever. If it’s coming out of his mouth he is saying that shit with his whole damn chest and doesn't give a fuck.

The few times he is forced to lie or to say something he doesn’t mean he says it as a strategy play but it barely makes it out of his mouth and he hates it.

For a long time by the time they get to Ravenel Damen has been playing a part. Living a half truth and not saying everything he means. Or wants to say.

Likewise, in Akielos, Damen keeps himself held back. We know this because in 3 books, despite being the darling crown prince and heroic military leader, he mentions 1 person by name that he is actually and genuinely close to. One. He’s never been in love with anyone before Laurent, he doesn’t get close, he doesn’t get particularly attached. If he did Jokaste would have been a Princess and not just his mistress.

It speaks of a whole heap of childhood trauma and issues, thanks in large part to his father and Kastor and this picture that is painted of strength in Akielos being The Most Important Thing. (And i have too many thoughts on said implied trauma to write it all out properly here because it's an essay unto itself.)

We also know that Damen does the talking thing with Jokaste too. So we know it's an indicator of intimacy in bed for him. He's certainly not doing it in Vask, for example. Because Damen values words so highly he does wear his heart on his sleeve, but he guards that heart close. Sharing his feelings becomes something then tied to both the value Damen places on words and the lack of emotional intimacy in his life. To Damen, opening up like that especially during sex, is an act of giving unto its self.

Damen is strong, yes. Crazy strong and the perfect warrior. But he also likes the wordy sad poems and has craved approval (and affection) from his father and Kastor seemingly most of his life. For example, Kastor stabbed him and made Damen believe with words that it was a good thing because it meant Kastor respected him enough to fight him like a man.

It’s the perfect anecdote to draw all of those ideas together. Damen being happy about being stabbed at 13 by his brother because Kastor said it was a good thing to be strong enough to fight properly and bear the consequences.

Words matter to Damen, he assumes they do to other people too. It's what nearly gets him killed.

It’s funny really, because Damen values words but he himself is a man of action and Laurent values action but is a man of words.

When it comes to sex we see them swap places from their usual dynamic and therein lies the intimacy.

Laurent acts and Damen talks. It’s a complete role reversal and it was always meant to be. Pacat has said, several times, that Laurent tops Damen with words all the time and it was a purposeful choice to have Laurent bottom because of this. So to follow that through to it's logical conclusion for the sex scenes to really hit we needed to see them swap places completely and Damen needed to talk.

Laurent is a mouthy little shit but when it comes to his important scenes (the building of their intimacy and their sex scenes) it's never his words that he's speaking loudest with. Like when he just hugged Damen after the meeting with Jokaste in KR or when he went to get ice for him in PG, it's an offering in place of words and Laurent does it frequently: letting his actions speak louder than any of his words because to Laurent words don't really matter, lies are too easy. He's been taken in by words before.

Damen gets to Laurent through his actions and it's Laurent's moments of honesty, of saying something unexpected, that make Damen really pay attention. This isn't to say that Laurent's actions don't get to him, they do of course, but only really when Damen comes to realise that's how Laurent is being honest. Likewise in reverse for Laurent.

It's the language the other understands that allows the distance to bridge, but the intimacy comes in the opposite every time.

So when they fall into bed Laurent instigates with action, all three times they are together. And Damen talks. Because it’s the thing that is important to them that they are willingly giving and sharing and that is what makes it intimate.  

Quite simply, Damen holds himself back emotionally so talking during sex like that is a way for Damen to let go and to let his partner know that's it not just sex. Laurent, in reverse, shows his want through the instigation and by the time it happens they both know what it means: Laurent never does that and Damen knows it. Laurent knows Damen says what he fucking means.

It's such an intimate sex scene because of that awareness.

In my writing I kind of try to take that and run with it. Damen says what he means and what he wants Laurent to hear, because words of affirmation are important to him personally so he makes sure to share that.

Plus, it’s just sexy, you know? Got to love a man who talks in bed, that sex rough voice when he’s so far gone you know what his saying is just the shit flying through his head?

Hot.

Loved this ask so much. I could literally write a thesis on Damen lmao

[anantaru]

— yandere honkai star rail boys

including blade, jing yuan, luocha, sampo x gn! reader

꒰ genre ꒱ — yandere, angsty, toxic, manipulation

— blade

yandere! blade, who won't ever leave your side in the early stages of your relationship, but the smoldering question, the raging reason as to why was deeply purled in an ulterior, much scarier motive.

it's not because of him owning possessive traits, well, he sure did but the motivation behind gracefully aiding you in everything you may require, always showing up to your doorstep whenever you wanted him to with that big, delicate smile on his handsome face and blessing you with sweet gifts of all kind, his reasoning was contrasting.

at any rate, blade can continuously see that you're slowly but surely getting accustomed to him, that you tend to find some sort of unrecognizable comfort and notable security in his calculated antics.

submit to him, to your fate, you do not have to do anything on your own again.

the voice in your head wasn't your own, it was blade's voice, bright, stern and utterly dominating. it's in your head but it wasn't you talking, or was it? it couldn't be.

when you come to terms with it, step by step, you are quick to notice that something changed because blade backs away all of a sudden, without somewhat announcing nor explaining himself.

you try to reach him, desperately, but you're being ignored, no answer, no message or a call being returned. proceeding, you attempt to idly greet him the very moment you see blade suddenly walk past you on a random evening, while at last, being ignored yet again.

the main impetus of his motives, what could it be? fine, to say it without beating around the bush, it's that blade will try anything in his power to make you the obsessed one.

— jing yuan

yandere! jing yuan who was using one noteworthy strategy to ploddingly drive you into his undying arms, so you weren't able to leave nor would you want to leave in the first place.

the golden eyed will make you feel like you're the most special, alluring, stunning individual he had ever laid his eyes on. most of all, will he turn everything around and act like you're in control of the relationship between you both.

hold on a second, it doesn‘t stop there.

for all intents and purposes has the capable and gifted general easily figured out that by giving you any form of large control, an illusion of indurated authority, he can covertly infiltrate that sweet head of yours to deviously influence and manipulate you how he sees fit.

following this pursue of action, you do not realize what you have gotten yourself into by the time it was too late.

for your own pair of thinking— to you it would seem like you are making important choices and solutions, yet not fathoming that in practice it was jing yuan who would put the hand picked ideas into your thoughts with subtle hints and little traces, you barely notice it.

you would end up doing whatever he wants and he smiles, kissing your lips and thanking you for taking such good care of him.

logically thinking, he does it because he wants you to become attached to him, he cannot possibly live a life without you, it's futile— you're the person he fell in love with, he couldn't imagine you walking away now.

— luocha

yandere! luocha, who, on the far side of the color of his innocent-looking, scintillating eyes, will be a crazy skilled liar who will look at you so sweetly that you cannot even process the mere possibility of something going wrong.

at the outset, he was agreeing and relating to everything you were saying or proclaiming, yet keep in mind, he puts it in a way that wasn't overbearing nor appearing as untrue— luocha knew what to say in order for it to come off as his opinion as well, as an oh so little coincidence that the two of you had so many things in common.

almost like you're made for each other, or, almost as if someone was trying to make it materialize as this.

again, you can envision him as a chameleon— following your first dates, he notices that he is wholly obsessed, it's the way you communicated, the small traits you possessed or how you'd slowly avert your eyes whenever he'd try to hold gazes.

luocha looks at you and visualizes a mirror standing in front of him.

for what reason you might wonder, let me break it to you; he needs you to be exceedingly trusting and unquestioning towards him, whatever he says, you wouldn't quiz it.

slowly, deep, decelerated steps, one by one so you wouldn't notice, luocha will gather all the information he had about you, favorite food, most dearest hobby, your habits, your views on life and the future, all written and memorized in his brain until he turns them into his own traits, characteristics of himself— because, ultimately, he was always a step ahead of you, easily lying through his gritted teeth without even realizing it himself sometimes ..

.. yet never letting go of the unfaltering control he now had acquired.

— sampo

yandere! sampo, who on the outside appeared to be rather bubbly and harmless, yet on the inside was excessively skilled in keeping you within his mind altering reach.

because love was scary, or so he thought and sought to point it out, it’s basically handing over a map of all your flaws and imperfections while putting faith in your partner to not abuse that power. 

in advance of your relationship, the man had already gained your abiding trust out of the clear blue sky— lets take this into consideration, whenever you encountered a problem, dear sampo was here to solve it almost immediately, without even trying his utmost hardest.

how come he had a solution to everything you needed, he truly was wonderful, or wasn't he?

and his extraordinary inducements of special care, how he made sure that you were contented and pleased in your life, all while in reality remaining unnoticed in the cruel darkness, as the very cause of those problems you have encountered.

it's quite silly he thinks, how creative he was, again using negative rumors to pull you into a corner, or stealing work utensils and important materials you needed, silently orchestrating a various square of people who will look down on you.

until at the very last, sampo proudly positions himself just right in your life, quite heroic indeed, and placing a fake security on top of your person ..

.. so you wouldn't have to worry about anything in life anymore and fully attach yourself to him.

©2023 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[alexthebordercollie]

i'm always a sucker for the take that Ford does love kids, he's just not the best caretaker. i mean, he's immediately delighted to learn he's an uncle in tale of two stans, and he loves spending time with Dipper and Mabel, he's just kind of dense.

i think aus where he gets to be a dad with Fiddleford are so cute. and so interesting to see how he'd handle it. people always seem to forget what a softie he can be

Oh yes! It kind of bugs me how a lot of people act like Ford is cold when he really isn't. There are lots of little examples of him being an absolute sweetheart. He talks a big game about being logical and suppressing fear etc, but he's a deeply emotional person, and that comes through in his more personal journal entries. He's not some heartless robot. He loves sharing his joy and excitement with the people close to him. He craves human connection even though he's bad at it. He gets attached to weird little creatures like Shifty, he loves his niece and nephew and is genuinely happy to meet them. Not to mention Ford loves weirdness and creativity and kids are the weirdest most creative demographic of people out there.

I don't think Ford dislikes kids at all. I think his lack of emotional intelligence and tendency to be lost in his own world makes him a questionable caretaker. Not through apathy or malice, he's just kind of bad with kids. Making him a father is really interesting for this reason because I'm confident he'd love the shit out of his kids, but learning how to respond appropriately to their needs, keep them safe, and pay attention consistently when needed, would all be things he'd struggle with.

Ford also says as much in his journal that he didn't want to settle down and "start a family". I don't think he ever saw kids of his own as part of his future nor do I think he'd ever consciously choose to have them. That said these are the words of a young Ford with grand ambitions that children would have potentially gotten in the way of. I also think the way he shuts down the idea of "starting a family" is a response to the social pressure to get straight married which is also not something he would have wanted. I mean look how well that worked out for Fidds :/

But Ford's whole character arc is about humbling himself. Learning to let go of this fantasy of some grand destiny and find joy in just living life with the people he cares about. He learns to accept the love of others and to love himself without needing to prove anything.

Pictured above, is a combination of sleep deprivation and those little moments when you're a new parent and it dawns on you yet again that suddenly you have this tiny little human who's who world depends on you. That mix of fear and awe and overwhelming love that hits you in waves and turns your brain into mush for a moment.

Nik and Newt force Ford to put someone else over himself, forcing him to reassess his priorities much sooner.

Also I know this one wasn't really an ask but I really wanted to draw something for you because it was soooooo good seeing a real ask in my inbox. I would absolutely love to answer any asks people have about this AU. I'd love to draw more of Ford, Fidds, Stan, and the twins but it gets hard to decide what to draw with so many ideas in my brain. By all means, send me asks or suggestions for drawings and I'll do my best to respond to all of them.

[night-raven-tattler]

Say hi to daddy!

Summary: How would these characters behave as fathers? What does their ideal family look like?

Characters: Heartslabyul dorm (Riddle, Ace, Deuce, Trey, Cater)

Other parts of the series: Savanaclaw, Octavinelle, Scarabia, Pomefiore, Ignihyde, Diasomnia, Royal Sword Academy

By opening the document, you agree to Mx Tattly's terms of source confidentiality.

-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

He has so many shelves filled with parenting books everyone thinks he's preparing for writing his own study on parenting

Riddle is the type to panic whenever his child does things that are not written in the books or they don't pass certain milestones according to the research he's done

On one hand, Riddle is a logical man, who knows not all children all the same

On the other hand, he has no idea what good parenting actually looks like, so he assumes everything that goes "wrong" is his fault

For Riddle, parenting will be a journey full of a lot of growing and healing, healing his inner child especially

While hesitant to interact with his child at the beginning due to not wanting to snap at them unintentionally, once he's eased into it he'll become very attached

Riddle will be a little pushy when it comes to school at some point, but it comes from a place of care, and he will spend as much time as needed to tutor his child for any subject and reqard them when needed

He has scheduled play time, naps, meals and the occasional strawberry tart from uncle Trey when the child reaches an appropriate age

I can see Riddle as a boy dad and having only 1 child (that he, unfortunately, dresses like a small victorian child), 2 kids would be a bit too overwhelming for him

『••✎••』

Ace is, hands down, the fun parent

Always taking care of the tasks that involve more fun having than care taking, Ace is the go-to parent for when any child is upset and crying

Card tricks, stories with fun voices, playtime that crosses curfew by a few minutes, his personal mission is to make his children have fun and enjoy things

When they get older, they'll have to learn how to deal with Ace's honesty and his roundabout way of telling them he cares about them

Ace is not a person to hold back from saying what he thinks, so both him and his children will have to find a middle ground in order to not hurt each other

For Ace, parenting will become the perfect opportunity to become gentler with his words, and his love for the people he cares about will finally have a good place to go to

Once the kids are old enough, prank wars become a thing in the household

Not even poor uncle Deuce who drops by after work is free of the classic whoopee cushion

Ace definitely has a daughter, and no more than 2-3 kids

『••✎••』

If the dictionary had a picture next to "girl dad", it would be a picture of Deuce

He is the most gentle, most nervous parent out of his Heartslabyul dormmates

While he is not huge on looking into parenting books, he asks his mother for advice at least once a day

Until one day, when things just start flowing naturally and the parental instinct fully kicks in

When his babies get fussy, he likes to take them out on walks, to feel the calming wind and see the pretty sky

He slowly introduces all of his kids to blastcycles and taking them on small trips, even though he might get scolded himself for that

Deuce goes from being afraid of breaking his precious little babies to being a lover of roughhousing

Who would've thought that Deuce's feisty personality would also go to his kids to some degree? /s

Deuce is very afraid of finding out one of his kids is going down a darker path and becoming less appreciative of the things around them

While it will be a struggle and it will throw Deuce into an identity crisis, he'll do what he knows best: he won't give up on them, and keep loving them until they learn their lesson

If Deuce is capable of change, anyone is

Deuce is a family man, he'd love a few kids, not any more than 4 though

『••✎••』

Trey is the kind of parent who loves carrying around his children everywhere he goes, even while doing errands

He has baby chairs and carriers all over the house, and a bunch of baby sized kitchen accessories

Trey introduces cooking and baking to his children very early: they have special utensils that they know how to use from the age of 3

Some might think it's extreme, but Trey is determined to build their independence from a young age

He is kind of the picture perfect dad, not gonna lie: he is caring, stern but not strict and is the epitome of gentle parenting

He encourages his children to be creative, inside and outside of the kitchen

And he praises anything his kids show off to him

Yeah, he is the parent who puts drawings up on his fridge and stuff

Trey sometimes brings the kids to the bakery to increase the number of customers through some sweet displays of family time

If you ask him, he'll say it was uncle Cater's idea, but he's lying

Trey would definitely lean towards a bigger family, maybe 6 kids at the most, since he will get the hang of daddy-ing quite fast

Plus, uncle Che'nya is a very eager babysitter

『••✎••』

I really think Cater is into the new dad aesthetic

Posting pics of him and his new baby on Magicam, with the kid holding onto his finger with their tiny hand, with their first blankie, meeting uncle Trey for the first time

But he always keeps their face out of the picture or blurs it

Cater loves dancing between sharing his joys on social media and maintaining some privacy for his child until they are old enough to tell him if they want their picture to be posted

Cater is a fun dad all around: he loves going on small trips, piggy back rides, rocking his kiddo to sleep

He attends parenting classes before having his first child, and enjoys interacting with the local new mommies committee

Unfortunately, he is a bit reserved when the child becomes fussy or upset

Old habits die hard, and he knows he has to be open with his child for the betterment of their relationship

...yet, he is scared of being hated by his own child

It's terrifying, especially in the moments when his baby calls for their dad, and Cater gives in and starts soothing his little one

It's a struggle, not gonna lie, but Cater is willing to make baby steps

One child is enough for Cater, and he is definitely a boy dad in my eyes

[taradactyls]

Something I love about how Pride and Prejudice is told through an omnipresent narrator, aside from the witty remarks and insight into other characters it allows even though it's usually focused on Elizabeth, is how it plays on the audience's own prejudices and assumptions.

The narrator tells us very early on, chapter 4, that Darcy is "haughty, reserved, and fastidious, and his manners, though well-bred, were not inviting." We've already seen that when we meet him the previous chapter, and will see more of it in those following. But it's the readers, along with Elizabeth, who take that observation as not only a list of flaws (despite only the first actually being negative) but presumes even more damaging flaws must be attached to it. Darcy can be off-putting, especially so in the setting we meet him in: he dismissed Elizabeth within earshot of her, didn't engage with people attempting to converse with him, etc. It's easy to assume the worst of him in a world so driven by social niceties, and because we follow Elizabeth, who is so lively and playful amidst the rules which govern society. Elizabeth thinks he's bad tempered? It would make sense - he hasn't shown consideration for others much socially, why would he care when he's angry? He acted from resentment and jealousy and went against his father's will? That's not such a jump after the conclusion of a bad temper, his own acknowledgement of implacable resentment, and evidence of pride. The awareness of one offensive trait so naturally leads to prejudice against it, that we easily assume still worse qualities must exist. We are as mistaken as Elizabeth.

Even the idea that 'No, Darcy was never haughty or rude, he was just shy and misunderstood, the narrator is wrong' is just magnifying that prejudice. Yes, we do find out later that Darcy is not at ease among strangers, and was always intrinsically good; his morals and core values meant he was never as bad as Elizabeth believed. But that doesn't mean he was without flaws, and it's so fascinating that some analysis of his character seek to completely remove the negative traits which he eventually overcame after acknowledging them in himself. The logic seems to be that they feel if he had them in the start that he isn't actually such a good person. It's just another example of being so prejudiced against certain flaws that it's impossible for some people to reconcile that there doesn't have to be more serious failings attached, and someone can still be a good person despite being arrogant and not always nice. It's, ironically, being prejudiced in the exact same way that Elizabeth was at the start of the novel. It's amazing that Jane Austen was able to tap into that aspect of human nature so deftly, and invoke in both in her main character, and readers to this day.

Now, of course, the story is so well known it's rare for anyone to read it blind, so it's less likely anyone will be unaware of Darcy's good qualities despite first seeing his worst. Even if they do, Pride and Prejudice has become so genre defining that new readers who are the slightest bit genre savvy will be more aware than contemporary audiences were. But even if we know the story it's still so understandable why Elizabeth feels the way she does. We see what she sees and feel her conclusions make sense. Just as, even though the narrator tells us Darcy is starting to catch feelings for Elizabeth, we fully comprehend her not noticing and believing there's a mutual dislike. And though that is concrete evidence of Elizabeth not reading Darcy and his motives correctly, we are still so sympathetic of the basis of her prejudice that her continued belief in Darcy's lack of virtues makes sense from her point of view. We can see, as she later will, that she takes it too far, and should have noticed evidence to the contrary, but her prejudice against him based on his early behaviour and her pride at reading people correctly is so understandable.

Basically, in a story about the characters' pride and prejudices, I love, love, LOVE how the narrator's voice brings out those same traits in readers the exact same way we see it presenting in Elizabeth. We're all on that journey with her, and we can likewise learn the same lessons about ourselves as she does. Pride and Prejudice feels timeless, because even though society and thus the nuance changes, the book is about human nature, and that remains essentially the same.

[glitter-stained]

Oh I see you also wanted to see Jason abusing benzos after Gotham War. Good taste etc.

Anyway, I've given some thought about how that could end up happening, and... Well, for starters, I think this:

Should have consequences!

Maybe Jason takes more time to push through the fear and rescue the girl, and she ends up in the hospital, or maybe she dies (I'm always advocating for them both to die here, but in this situation, I thinking - she inhales a lot of smoke, has to go to the hospital, stays there in critical condition).

Anyway, Jason wouldn't have started abusing benzos just because of himself, but if affects his vigilantism? If it put other people at risk? Yeah, then he's gonna do it.

Alternatively, maybe he even tries to step back from vigilantism, because his condition is putting more people in risk than he not being there at all, and then ends up in the emergency as a civilian and there he is given alprazolam/diazepam/some other benzodiazepine and it works (somewhat? I won't try to understand how comic book logic for body modifications would interact with real world drugs). So afterwards Jason is like... "Hmmmmm this could make me functional again 👍 interesting" and there you go, that's the beginning of his descent into benzos abuse :/

I was about to say "Jason needs to abuse benzos because with the vicious circle of adrenaline/panic attacks he will die" but then I realised this man has the survival instinct of a lemming so your theory is much better, I do think he would take them to be able to continue vigilantism.

I don't want the little girl to die, not because I don't think you're right, but because it makes me too sad. With that being said, I've been considering some things:

-Jason died (his first death) of smoke inhalation

-PTSD is associated with memory issues regarding the event (not an erasure of the moment so much as distorsions, issues with memories, details remembered wrong or incoherently...) Add to that the fear failsafe and the fact that on top of being a traumatic event, this scene could be triggering to him, and Jason does dissociate sometimes (which in extreme case can be linked to "memory" issues when you're not aware of what's happening, ie because you're trapped in a flashback).

-with the rest of the Gotham War storyline happening, Jason had no opportunity to follow-up and take her to the hospital

Put all of that together in the shaker, and you have the perfect cocktail for a Jason overwhelmed by doubt because he can't remember whether the little girl survived.

And then

AND THEN that's where it gets interesting, because the fun thing about benzos is aside from all the other shitty side-effects those drugs, esp in high quantities, can cause temporary memory loss (kinda like when you get black-out drunk). So I'm picturing a Jason addicted to benzos, horrified at the idea of ending up like his mother but not even chemically capable of feeling afraid of it, always wondering if he failed to save that little girl, and with chunks of missing time... I like to think he'd dissociate more often too, as a reaction to the anxiety on top of that, so there's the horror of having his memory full of holes, feeling like he's living a half-life, not being sure of anything...

And, well. When you find a traumatized young man with such dangerous skills, memory issues, attachment issues and such evident vulnerability... There's a lot of things you can do with a man like that. A lot of things you can make them believe, make them feel, make them think.

[inbarfink]

Okay, so here’s the thing about Zim and GIR…

When talking about the idea that Zim might have some affection towards GIR - a lot of people bring up the fact that, like, GIR is even still functioning in the first place. After all, why would the Famously Sadistic and Callous Invader Zim keep around an evil minion who messes up as often as GIR does? Rather than scrap him for parts or just throw him in the trash? ….Unless he had some sort of emotional attachment to that minion in the first place?

But that’s… I’m actually not sure that argument 100% works. Because there’s one important variable that argument discards. GIR isn’t just a regular ol’ robotic minion - he is a special top-secret model SIR Unit personally gifted to Zim by the Almighty Tallests.

Zim cannot fully discard GIR as a worthless garbage robot that’s nothing but a hindrance to his mission the same way that he can’t discard Earth as a worthless garbage planet with no value to the Irken Empire - because that would be confronting and admitting that he is not actually a great and respected Invader in the eyes of his Tallests.

But I still think there are some other evidence to the idea that Zim likes GIR. Because, I mean, Zim is incredibly lenient towards him.

Zim… feels bad for yelling at GIR and making him cry. 

Zim. Feels. Bad. For. Yelling. 

This alone is incredible evidence for Zim’s affection towards GIR.

And that is absolutely not something Zim will do for just any minion. Just look at how he treats his Computer, and not to mention all those poor saps from Hobo 13. 

The fact that in his deluded world, GIR is supposed to be a top-of-the-line personal gift from the Tallests certainly plays a part. But I also think that while these delusions might explain why he doesn’t throw GIR in the trash… Zim is very good at twisting reality and logic and his own ideology for the sake of justifying his own selfish desires. 

If he actually wanted to hurt GIR, he could’ve very easily rationalized it as ‘you are supposed to be the bestest most prided minion in my army of doom and a personal gift from the Almighty Tallest themselves therefore I will hold you to a higher standard and punish you accordingly’. But instead he is incredibly lenient with GIR and his constant screw-ups and obnoxious whims.

So my read of why Zim is actually fond of GIR in his own weird way is very much tied to, like, a Big Thing about how I read Zim’s character in general. Which is, Zim’s delusion, like Ogres, has layers. Like, there are some aspects of reality that just genuinely never penetrated his thick Irken skull - and there are some things he does realize on some level even as he tries as hard as he can to convince himself otherwise. 

So I think on some level, as much as he outwardly denies it, Zim is aware of how much he messed up things for the Irken Empire in ‘Impending Doom 1’ and how the Almighty Tallests really view him. This is basically how his thought process is described in the Pilot -

And it’s also supported with how Vasquez describes Zim’s similarities to Dib in some of the ‘Florpus’ interviews.

Dib is obviously painfully aware of the ways his father does not respect him - but for Zim to similarly want to prove his own amazingness to the Tallest, he has to be aware on some level that the Tallest don’t acknowledge that he’s amazing. And I think it also matches with his interactions with the various Tallests in the ‘The Trial’ Flashbacks. Because he wasn’t originally that feverishly devoted, eager to prove himself and deluded about being beloved by the Tallests as he is right now.

That’s a trait he has developed either in response to his spectacular failure in ‘Operation Impending Doom 1’ or just to Red and Purple - who already knew him beforehand and decided they can’t stand him - rising to power. He is aware on some level of how the Tallests perceive him, and while he cannot consciously acknowledge it, his behavior is him overcompensating for it.

And I think… Zim projects this aspect of himself on GIR. He sees himself in GIR. Not the self he wants to see, the hypercompetent and beloved Invader. But the self he keeps denying - a devoted and loyal minion who despite messing up sometimes (or rather, all the goddamn time), is always eager to please and driven to prove himself.

Which… is also not a fully accurate view of himself, but like I said, it’s Layers of self-delusion. But that’s subconsciously how he perceives his own relationship with the Tallests and how he perceives GIR’s relationship to himself. 

So Zim being so tolerant of GIR’s constant screw ups, never really seriously punishing him, always putting him in important positions in his schemes, always acquiesce to his stupid and annoying whims… that’s because he sees himself in GIR, and that’s how he would like the Tallests to treat him, that’s how he pretends the Tallests already treat him, and so that’s the treatment he gives GIR. He believes he deserves these infinite second chances and high-ranking roles in all of the Empire’s universe-conquering plans despite his constant failures and that’s what he keeps doing with GIR despite being just as frustrated with him as the Tallests are with Zim.

And the thing is, because of Zim’s Extreme Projection to the Max - he kinda got the entirely wrong idea about GIR. Zim is not exactly that eager-to-please loyal drone of the empire - but GIR is not that at all, not even remotely. While GIR might have some affection towards Zim, he doesn’t care at all about the mission - much less being ‘allowed’ to do Important Things Vital for the fate of the Zim’s latest scheme. He would much rather goof off and watch TV then be given any sort of responsibility.

Again, the cupcake scene is very illustrative. Zim thinks GIR is upset because he feels very bad about screwing up their mission and thus is immediately forgiving - but GIR was only sad because he ran out of Cupcake to eat.

With how distractible and chaotic and generally detached from reality GIR is, it’s… kinda hard to determine when he’s trying to obey Zim’s orders but failing and when he just never really gave much of a shit about them in the first place.

But he’s usually not even a little bit bothered or upset about the idea that his inaction has put his ‘master’ in mortal danger.

I guess the funny thing is, like, there are times where Zim needs an extra pair of arms or eyes on board - times where he needs the skills of… maybe not GIR but at least a hypothetical fully-functional SIR Unit. But there are many other occasions where GIR is nothing but a burden and annoyance to him and the thing is that they both would’ve been happier if GIR was just allowed to stay home to watch TV and eat babies but Zim keeps putting him in important positions because Zim likes GIR but he’s unable to understand what GIR is actually like beyond an image of all the projected insecurities he can't admit about himself.

And of course, as we all know, if GIR was actually driven to fulfill their mission - that turns out very bad for Zim very very quickly. 

[sweet-as-an-angel]

Heya!! can i request for yandere john wick (headcannons or give anything will work)

You probably know which Anon i am. Please forgive me i got a little too happy cuz you write so good for such good stuff!

Yandere John Wick Headcanons

Warnings: Obsessive Behaviour, Stalking, Snooping, Very Brief Implication of Smut, Just John in Love <333, No Pronouns used for Reader except ‘You.

A/N: I wanted to get these out before I watch the new John Wick film; one which I have been waiting for for the last 4 years <3

O B S E S S I V E

Absolutely an obsessive lucid yandere – he may be in love, but he’s not delusional.

Regardless of whether you came before or after Helen, John knows how cut-throat his profession is; how quickly everything can go from an is to a was.

Thus, nothing is certain. Not you, not him, not your relationship.

So when he realises he’s in love with you – a process as gradual as the construction of Earth itself – he’s never letting you out of his sight.

This might manifest as something as subtle as him visiting you more than usual, staying, longer during movie nights, trying to get you to spend the night more often; inconspicuous displays of a strengthening friendship you and John had accrued over the last couple years or so.

But, unbeknownst to you, he’s around even when you’re unaware.

An unmarked black car parked a house or two down the street, shielded by the shadows of the trees as moonlight casts a stark white against the black.

An inconspicuously-dressed civilian who’s been sat on that park bench for the last two hours as you read your book.

And, eventually, the tiny camera attached underneath your sofa, monitoring every coming and going of your house.

You know about none of this, of course.

Sure, you may have suspicions that the car down the street – one you’ve never seen before in your life – could be doing something… but who were you to judge ? There could be a perfectly logical explanation !

But John keeps enough of himself – and you – in the dark so you’d never suspect him.

I mean, why would you ? He’s John Wick ! Nicest, quietest guy on the block.

If ever he’s on a mission; John relies on that camera more than he’s like to admit.

In his downtime, while resting up at the Continental, he’ll check his phone, see that you’ve gone to the kitchen to make something or other, and wait for you to return to the sofa until he can put his phone away.

Even with his logical mind, he can’t help but fall partial victim to his superstition that, once you reach the sofa, nothing bad can happen to you.

The idea of putting up more cameras has crossed his mind.

Multiple times.

But you’re attentive. You’d notice something as small as a little blinking light a mile off.

Hencewhy he takes to manual surveillance when he’s not out earning a thriving.

He also lowkey interrogates you.

“You found a boyfriend yet ?”

You give a sharp laugh.

“If I had, you’d be the first to know,”

You already tell John practically everything that happens to you – as best friends do – but whenever you ask John something similar, he’ll skirt around your questions.

“No time for that,” he’ll tell you whenever you try to identify the new mystery partner in his life.

“You’re always so busy, John-John !”

Ah, his nickname. A mythic specialty no other has had the privilege to call him.

And John gives a rare smile.

“I’m never too busy for you.”

And you know he means it.

Whenever you need him, he’s there.

And you try to be there for him as much as possible, but given how elusive he is, he rarely seems to need it.

You want to help as best you can, regardless.

So, one day, out of the blue, you hand John a set of keys.

He’s a smart man. But he can’t wrap his head around what you’re trying to tell him.

And when he stares at you with a narrowed look, your eyes roll, the edges of your lips curling up.

“They’re keys, John,” you say. And you gesture around the living room, general in your manner. “To my house.”

And John stares at you for a moment. Then two.

“(Y/N), I’m not trained to be a housekeeper.”

“Oh my god, John–”

You have to explain to him that you’re not trying to get him to clean your house or care for it. You’re opening it up to him.

“I trust you more than anyone else to know how everything works here,” you say, a hand on his shoulder. He’s trying to keep dead eye contact with you, but the feeling of your fingers holding him with a softness he’s never known is like being branded.

“So,” you smile. “If you ever need it for anything, you can get in.”

Honestly, John has been granted few mercies in his time; makeshift alliances with murderers who were loyal to none, not even themselves, his life saved only by his ability to barter and his renowned skill for death. And never are these mercies granted without a price.

So to have you gift him a set of keys to the place you are most vulnerable takes John a while to come to terms with, shall we say.

Remember earlier when I mentioned John’s idea to install more cameras ?

Well, now you’ve given him a perfect in.

Plus, he now has access to all your personal belongings.

At first, he did try to restrain himself.

Trust me, he did.

But, as the days grew into weeks, your keys sat on his bedside, glinting under any source of light that could find its way inside.

And, as if the Gods aligned circumstance on his favour, you would be away from home for a week.

A trip to such-and-such a place – John had the address memorised even before you did.

You’d best believe that, although he initially had his reservations about 1.) you going on the trip, and 2.) using your absence as a means to snoop around your home, John is not immune to whim and fancy. Especially when it came to you.

He’s phantasmic; he leaves no trace, not even fingerprints as he prowls your apartment, looking for…well, anything, really.

He avoids stooping so low as to rifle through your underwear drawer like a stalker. Instead, he uses what he likes to call ‘environmental storytelling’ to make deductions about you.

He’s a very intuitive, perceptive individual, so the story of your everyday routing unfolds for him as if he were reading a book.

And, yes, the temptation to peek at the…less savoury pieces of your inventory did become overwhelming when he could no longer be satiated with the literature you consumed, the worn look of your favourite outfit, your secret money stash you kept in the biscuit tin in the kitchen.

To make a long story short, John walked out your house with a short of yours.

And, when he got home, he did the only thing he could think to do.

He put it on a pillow and pretended it was you.

Cuddles with it whenever he’s missing you. Or sad.

Maaay have cried into it on more than one occasion.

Maaay have done…other things to it when he wasn’t feeling upset.

He’s absolutely paranoid that you’ll find it one day, despite his aptitude at covering his tracks, so he tries not to invite you to his house as much as he can.

However, as your friendship progresses further, that’s unavoidable.

While you may not be dating yet, just know that John holds you in the highest of regards, and he’ll never let anything – including himself – hurt you.

Just ignore his eye wandering to the walk-in cupboard in the hallway; that’s just where he’s kept his imitation of you.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterpost

Yandere Masterlist Juicy Original Content <3

[bloodywings]

night remedy

CW/TW!!!: self-doubt, feeling undeserving, I think this counts as anxiety, reader has a breakdown, hurt/comfort, deprecating thoughts. kiribaku x reader, bakugou doesn't talk too much, low-key semi-deaf bakugou, takes place in the future

2.7k words

Gender Neutral, plus size and POC friendly!!

I think that's all! please let me know if i missed anything!!

a/n: I started this in September while I was having a breakdown lmao

anyway, thanks for clicking! enjoy!

“2:25” the red numbers of the alarm clock in front of you read. It was becoming too late to sleep by the second. But sleeping was the last thing you could do.

The room was almost silent. The definition of white noise was blaring throughout the room you were in. The soft blow of a fan that was practically always on. The rustling of a plastic bag, barely blowing in the soft wind the fan let off. And two soft sets of breathing. Your lovers lay next to you, Eijirou on the opposite side of you, and Katsuki in the middle.

This became a regular thing within a few months of the start of your relationship with them. A small disagreement ensued. Bakugou had been upset because he rarely got to sleep in the middle. You and Kirishima had both assumed that he wouldn’t have wanted to be. His quirk made him hot very easily, so two sets of body heat didn’t seem comfortable. That’s what the two of you thought anyway.

Turns out the blonde doesn’t like when decisions are made for him.

He had begun thinking that the two of you loved each other more than him. And he snapped one day. Only to be extremely flustered when he realized the truth of the situation.

You and Eijirou still tease him about it every once in a while.

Usually, the memory made you smile. But the weight in your heart made it practically impossible to do so.

A soft stirring from your blonde lover snapped you out of your trance. His arm is placed in a different place around your torso, attempting to get comfortable and stay sleeping. His stirring caused the red-head attached to him to stir a bit as well. but still, both remained sleeping.

The blonde’s breathing was the most prominent of the two. Blowing directly in your ear. But Kirishima might as well have been next to you anyway. His soft snores filled the room, usually, it was like music to your ears.

Usually? Yes, those soft snores have lulled you to sleep on many occasions. Now? You couldn’t focus on the soft breathing of your boyfriend if you wanted to. The dark thoughts were the thing keeping you awake. You took another glance at the clock, “2:41” the red numbers blared at you.

At that moment, you wished that the red hue would swallow you whole. Practically begging for it to take you somewhere where your head was empty, not a single thought. And the only thing surrounding you was the love of the two boys laying in your bed.

“y’know, one day they’re going to get rid of you?” the voice in your head whispered. The same one that had been torturing you for the past few hours. “one day they’re going to realize that you are of no use to them, and then they’ll leave you.” “Shut up” you inwardly groaned. “you’re only saying that because I’m right, they’re going to go off and be happy, without you”

Logically, you knew they loved you. They wouldn’t be with you if they didn’t. But your brain couldn’t help but scream about how worthless you were. How they would be better off with just themselves. Or maybe even a different third person.

Someone that's not you.

You could feel tears well up in your eyes at the thought. But crying was not a good idea right now. The heaving of your chest might wake up your explosive lover lying peacefully beside you.

So you pulled the blonde’s arm from around you slowly, so as to not wake him. You succeeded, walking slowly to the door. Just trying to go to the living room of your shared apartment to cry, and then come back up as if nothing happened.

But just as you opened the door a groggy voice called out to you. “Where you goin’?” the grouchy blonde questioned. He’d probably woken up from the lack of body heat at his right side. “See, you ruin everything for them, they can’t even get a peaceful night of sleep ‘cause you're a crybaby” the voice taunted.

“I’m just gonna go and get some water,” you responded softly, turning around. whispering as not to wake your other boyfriend sleeping peacefully. “Sorry to wake you,” you mumbled. Katsuki sat up a bit, only to lay back down when the red-head let out a whine. His red eyes were piercing you, they almost made you want to break down.

“m’kay, don’t take too long,” he grumbled, snuggling himself back into the chest of his boyfriend. Which the red-head gladly accepted, wrapping his arms snugly around the blonde.

With that, you made your way to the living room. A place where amazing memories were made, it should have made you happy, but you couldn’t help but feel downhearted.

As you glanced around the room, the standard flatscreen tv caught your eye. It was one of the two that the three of you had to buy.

Memories flooded from when you got the first one. Katsuki had tried to mount the first one himself. Insisting, “You think those extras could do better than me?” And he did it, the TV even held well. He’d even boasted about it, claiming “you idiots should stop doubting me.”

Bakugou ended up eating his words two days later

You had all arrived home at around the same time. Just happy for the day to be over, the gruesome hero work had taken a toll on the three of you.

Only to walk in and see the TV laying on the ground, face first. The screen completely shattered. Your explosive lover expected you and Eijirou to be angry at him. But the two of you were too busy laughing your asses off to scold him for it.

you looked around at the rest of your living room. There were a total of two couches in your living room. One three-seater, and a loveseat. Polaroids strung on the wall brought more tears to your eyes. The pictures varied from the first date you had to the most recent. Each one was dated with Eijirou’s sloppy handwriting.

The very first one was when Kirishima had finally broken down during your second year and spilled his feelings for you two. And you and Katsuki both accepted.

The three of you went on a date to the fair. And Eijirou was so excited, he hadn’t been to one since he was a kid. He was practically bouncing on the train ride there. And he dragged Katsuki and you all around the fairground. Winning prizes for the two of you left and right. From stuffed animals to keychains to a fish that he had won for you.

He wanted to win another for Katsuki, but the blonde claimed “I don’t want some stupid fish that’s gonna die in three days” He scrunched his nose up in annoyance and disgust while declining the red-head's offer. Instead, Eijirou won his boyfriend a large fish plushie, as a replacement for the fish he had won earlier for you.

While your explosive lover claimed to hate it, the stuffed fish sits up at the top of your shared closet.

The most recent one was for your 7th anniversary, it was Katsuki’s turn to plan a date. And he chose to cook and take the two of you to a cliff. Fairy lights were strung on the trees, and a large tent to fit the three of you. Simple, but so thought out. He had brought you two there with just enough time to see the sunset. And then you spent the night in the forest, escaping the city life for just a night.

Those memories are what broke you, they had made you feel so loved and yet you felt as if you didn’t appreciate it. “Do you see what I mean? you don’t even have any faith that they do love you” the voice returned, mocking the thoughts it had implanted into your head.

You found yourself sitting on the three-seater, leaning over, and softly crying into your own hands. Your thoughts running a million miles a minute. You could hardly make them out.

Over and over.

But they all seemed to agree on one thing.

That you were worthless

Every piece of sadness came down on you in waves, from feeling undeserving of their love, to now feeling guilty because they’ve done so much for you, and you still don’t have anything faith in them.

But, nonetheless, you didn’t break down, just small, silent tears, with even softer sniffles.

Though you knew it was unlikely, you didn’t want any chance of either of your lovers catching you in such a vulnerable state.

But little did you know Katsuki had woken back up, realizing you weren't back from the kitchen, and had gotten up to check on you. And much like Katsuki, the lack of body heat had woken up the sleeping giant that lay next to him.

The blonde told his boyfriend to go back to sleep, but his boyfriend refused, mumbling something along the lines of “it's too cold without you.” Or at least that's what Katsuki thought he heard. Ejirou had a habit of speaking the intelligible language when he was half asleep.

The two tired men made their way through the house, with the red-headed giant stumbling the whole way there.

Out on a mission, you lovers made their way down the stairs, passed the front door, through the kitchen, and out to where you sat, with your face in your hands

“Sweetheart?” a tired voice slurred out. You lifted your head from your hands, and through your blurry vision, you see both Eijirou and Katsuki standing in the doorway. Both of them still rubbing the sleep from their vision. The red-head was the one that called out to you.

“What are you doing out here?” Katsuki asked, making his way to you with the sleepy giant not too far behind him. As you looked up at them, Katsuki noticed your cheeks glistening in the soft moonlight that came in through the window.

“Were you crying?” Katsuki questioned. His question caused the red-head's eyes to widen slightly, fully awake and alert after hearing the word ‘crying’’. Eijirou looked at your face, noticing your wet face in the same fashion your blonde lover did.

“Why are you sitting down here, crying to yourself?” Katsuki interrogated, and while you knew that there was no malice behind his question. But you couldn’t help but flinch at his rough tone, you knew he wasn’t actually agitated with you, but his tone of voice was not helping the thoughts screaming in your head right now.

Eijirou nudged the blonde, silently telling him to shut up.

“What Katsuki means is, what's the matter sweets?” the red-haired male queried. kneeling down in front of you. And at that moment, everything came crashing down on you. Your poisonous thoughts, the lack of sleep, the guilt, all of it came crashing on you.

And before you could blink, a racking sob emitted from your chest, which caused both boys to immediately panic. More and more sobs flowed from you like a messy symphony, and to the ears of your lovers, it was like listening to nails on a chalkboard. Just the sound alone was enough for adrenaline to pump through their veins in panic.

“Hey, hey look at me, ____.” Eijirou pleaded. His heart was hammering in his chest. He’d comforted people before, but this was different, he was afraid you weren’t breathing enough with how hard you were crying. But you couldn’t obey his command, you were way too embarrassed to even think of showing your face. After realizing this, your red-headed lover asked “Is it okay if I hold you?” The small nod you gave was enough for Eijirou to pull you into his arms quickly, whispering soft “its okay”-s and “we’ve got you”-s over and over.

You could feel how hard his heart was beating and it only made you feel worse.

Meanwhile, Katsuki was no better, he sat silently, a hand rubbing circles on your back. He didn’t want to say anything that could possibly make the situation worse. He knew his attitude was harsh, and he knew he had a reputation for saying the wrong thing in situations like these. If anyone had walked in on the scene, they would think he doesn’t care. But lord knows he cares a lot, maybe even more than Eijirou, his palms were sweating, and he could feel his heart hammering in his chest, almost as if it was trying to jump out of his rib cage.

It felt like forever until your sobs slowed down to small coughs and shaky breathing. Now that you were done crying, the situation began to dawn on you. You had woken up your partners in the middle of the night because you were doubting yourself. Sadness began to fade over into embarrassment. You hoped they could just drop this, and you’d go to bed.

But unfortunately, Kirishima was the first to break the silence. “baby? you okay?” he questioned with a strong amount of hesitation. He didn’t want to cause you to break down again. “yeah, ‘m fine” you sniffled softly, snuggling further into the chest of your red-headed lover, attempting to hide from everything that had happened.

Kirishima only hummed as an acknowledgment, trying to find the words to help you. But before the words could make their way into his chest, he heard a soft mumble from you. A very muffled and almost unintelligible, “M’sorry” fell from your lips. It was so soft that Katsuki hadn’t even heard it, which was good for you, he probably would have had your head on a pike for apologizing for something like this.

“There's nothing to be sorry for baby, nothing at all,” Ejirou whispered, one of his hands coming up from your waist to rest on the back of your neck. Rubbing small, comforting, shapes into your skin with his thumb. “like I said, we’ve got you.” your boyfriend reassured, with all of the love he could muster.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Katsuki mumbled into the crease of your neck, where his head had been sitting for a while. A small, “not really” fell from your lips before you could really think about the question.

All you knew was that the thought of speaking about your feelings was enough to make that small knot come to the back of your throat. making it borderline impossible to hold the small tears that welled in your eyes. you blinked, attempting to make them go away, but instead the small droplets were soaked up by Eijriou’s shirt.

After a small amount of silence, your red-headed partner suggested you all go back to bed. As the three of you walked back to your bedroom, well more like your two lovers, Kirishima refused to let you walk, he carried you through the kitchen, into the front doorway, and up the stairs, with Bakugou following not too far behind.

As you entered your shared bedroom, which had grown cold due to the fan being on high speed, you began to feel sleepy. you were fighting your closing eyelids when your lover placed you in the middle of your soft mattress. both men coming to lay on either side of you.

And when their arms wrapped around you, smothering you in between them, you couldn't help but feel a sense of comfort. almost as if the love they had was wrapping itself around you, but not in a suffocating way, it had just enough pressure to let you know how much they care for you.

While the love of your boyfriends couldn’t make all your problems go away, it could get you through the night. and that alone made the future seem a little brighter.

A/n: Hii, so how was it? Please let me know in the comments! If you have any ways I can improve as a writer please let me know! (remember there is a difference between constructive criticism and being rude)

Notes and reblogs are appreciated

I hope you're having a good day! And if not, I hope tomorrow is better! bye darlings <3

[ganondoodle]

totk thought

i feel like totk (as unfinished and duct taped together as it feels, which is wild given the time and everything) missunderstood what was so appealing about a direct sequel to botw, at least in my opinion

i have talked in length about what good of a foundation botw built to keep going with its world and characters and mysteries, and how totk needlessly, bafflingly, throws ALL of it away instead (and i do mean all of it, to me other than their models being the same no character feels like that character anymore etc), which is connected to my next point

alot of people were worried about them reusing botws world, some really didnt like it, some thought it would be fine as long as they changed enough (which they didnt..), and i thought it was really appealing bc i was excited to see this world progress, grow (not size), to .. change, but not how totk did 'change', its all rather surface level anyway, but the change i was interested in was seeing locations i loved be expanded, built upon, developed- and i feel like that is what they should have focused on, if you reuse the same world you CANNOT get it to feel as new and exciting as it did the first time for returning players, which id say is most of them, so you need to shift focus

aside from its mysteries and story potential of botw to be built further (which totk does not, you cannot change my mind, dont try) soemthing i was THRILLED about was just to see how the world has grown- i hoped to see the towns maybe expanded, new buildings in hateno added, someone perhaps painted their house, someone built or IS building a new additional room to their home (maybe you could help finish it?), some thing that made it feel like time passed and people lived there, sure, adding some mushroom stuff is change .. but its rather surface level, like all other changes

in taburasa (tarrey town?) there could have been new houses, maybe they tunneled into the mountain and built cellars there, have some buildings be attached to the sides, the narrow pathway secured with stonewalls, something that felt .. logical? instead they ,,,, removed ... buildings??? homes you literally built a few years ago?? just to make way for kiltons little figurine project, which was funny, but also a little? why remove buildings to put him there, couldnt it have been on the other side of the bridge?? or like a balcony on the side of the cliff?(even the forest .. well the forest is mostly gone and its now an ugly to look at playground for a short little building thing, it all feels so ..... idk, forced? pasted on, this isnt there bc it makes sense, this is your playground)

same should be said about the main regions villages (though my idea there is to actually change it via devastation aka death mountain collapsed and gorons forced to move or adapt, or the zoras dried out and them being forced to go elsewhere, rito being trapped in an actual dangerous blizzard so cold you need special gear for it an cant glide etc bc its damn stupid to put the points of interest in the EXACT same location as last game and then neither change them signifacntly, permantenly, NOR use anything existing as the base for the new dungeons, like making the water temple be an ancient cistern or .. waterworks underneath the now dried out lakes instead), the village of the zoras isnt expanded or anything, its got mud there and an insulting statue change but the mud goes away and then its the same as ever, just like all the other things are undoable and it all goes back to before (aside from death mountains lava)

WHY would the stable in that big empty field just ... vanish? esepcialyl that one?? there isnt anything like a dramatic change there, there is not bossfight there, theres nothing, its just gone and its empty footstep replaced with a semi annoying quest (that is also reused ....)

why the fuck did malanya move???????? the horse god????? leave them there and have the way to them now built in awe of them or soemthing, show that people are travelling there now having found their spring, have it overgrown with flowers that have funny horse shapes or something, even if they dont show up for other people, let them give you a quest that introduces new kinds and colors of horses instead of one random old guy in the spy post after which suddendly there is new pattern??

the statue of in the gerudo highlands, instead of having a very specific puzzle suddendly pasted on, toppled over or broken to reveal an entrance to a new or old shikah/yiga base, or an old gerudo town that shows there was a group that once lived up there (maybe ganondorfs followers???? those that stayed loyal or soemthing??)

akkala fucking fortress?? prime material for a dungeon revealing disgusting secrets of the shiekah persecution or something? no its .. a cave like any other in the door. somehow. in the dirt. (what what waHT WAT)

castle town rebuilt, that farm ruin rebuild! maybe to let all your horses roam there in a big space?? a central tavern hub for the recovering land! ruins that felt like untold stories or teasers to be given a purpose! the fairy fountains being in the same place but their lair expanded, a larger flower or now like a little lake, people actually manaing to visit them now and there being little shrines or offerings, decorations! maybe one of them had to flee (if the "cataclysm" actually .. did anything) which would make that impact much stronger, no, they are just picked up and plopped into the next best place to create the surface level illusion of change without understanding how that comes across, they have to be unlocked again, for some reason, and now its music with the most annyoing quest attached than even the sign guy- why?

how cool would it have been to find a spring and the fairy not being there, her spring is, its open, but she isnt there, a kidnapped fairy somewhere in the udnerground? a corrupted one? since its reusing the same world what you need to do is think about how to surprise the player that grew accustomed to things and attached to chaarcters, and significantly mix up the main points, focus on the characters and narrative to hook them without making it feel forced, its diffcult yes, but so is game making, and botw was such a great basis that imo its not even that hard to come up with compelling things

im not saying there arent any changes, or there was no attempt, but it falls flat or utterly missunderstood WHAT needed to change, the spypost is the biggest attempt at that, but even that doesnt feel like it was done bc it made sense, like the things they wanted to happen where the first thought and the entire thing built just to support that, so all it serves for is to give you that 'hub', even though that position is weird? the place chosen a little disrespectful imo and not very save either, hyrule castle was cleared after clam gan was done for, why would you built a SPY post on the ground level directly in front??? well ,, that was bc the cataclysm happens and the castle is AGAIN the place of the boss, and AGAIN poisoned, the people there couldnt have known it, it makes no sense even if you say well the ground was so poisoned from botw still they wouldnt built there, .. but then right in front? in the middle of a flat field? you could have used the farm ruins for that hub? put it on the hills that are all around?

even characters, instead of like expanding on their character and continueing or challenging their ideals its just so flat, all of them have abilities they never had before, that were never hinted at, other than being vaguely genetically connected to the champions, excuse me, those dont matter, the SAGES i mean, you see riju struggle like, once, with a power she didnt use to have and it only really serves to make her power used by you not her herself (the others didnt need that excuse?) tulin makes me the most mad and his cuteness only worsens it bc he was a little side NPC in botw, now suddendly the main guy (instead of teba?? i guess he was too old, sorry teba, only kids can be blessed with powers or something) he has no character arc and .... he can just use almost an exact copy of revalis storm, just sideways, which is both boring and insulting given how much revali struggled to learn it (which also explains his attitude!!) other characters just seem to forget part of themselves bc its not relevant, robbie has de-made cherry into a little bucket size thing, washt she important to him? purah doesnt have any interesting beat to her either, she just .. offscreen made herself the perfect pretty age with the tech that supposedly vanished as soon as clam gan was done? what? and only serves you to tell you where to go over and over, its sad (not saying botw gave her a super intersting arc or sth, but it built the basis for it, you could have expanded on it? have her reunite with impa? anything?) (and not all shiekah tech is gone, its still there, aaaaaaaaaargh it doesnt make any sense!!!! but its to serve you so, it serves YOU, PLAYER CHARACTER)

the entire game is awfully plagued with that problem, nothing it does feels logical or lived in bc it only serves YOU (and their new favorite thing that everyone loves and should obsess over, sonau/zonai! who doesnt love everything being THEM TM), and once you have checked it off your list it ceases to be anything, theres is no thought about why a contraption is there or what purpose it once served, bc it never has, it serves only to fling you somwhere; to some extent that is fine, like the snowy mansion dungeon in twilight princess is a weird way to build a mansion/fortress but you know its a dungeon so its gotta be that way, back when dungeons where dungeons, but you can easily overdo it, i think its good to think about the world and how to make it interesting for the player at the same time, there needs to be a balance of believability and deniability; a character telling you to press a button is gamestuff, a little weird but ok, a dungeon being built a little weird, well, its a dungeon- people walking around in normal ass summer clothing in the region thats frozen solid? that makes it less believable, even if the game joke about it that they are freezing or explains via 'these people dont feel the cold' or whatever (pokemoooooooooon)

especially with botws foundation, you could have achieved that, easily at times, theres so little restriction anymore, the wasted potential and needlessly thrown away 'everything' still hurts

[ghcstao3]

Different first meeting soap/ghost please

They’re at a bar and Simon is being harassed so orders an angel shot or something Johnny overhears and steps into help him out.

Then they meet when they do in game and ghost recognises soap but soap doesn’t recognises him because of the mask.

Ghost is a lot more trusting of soap because he knows he actually is just that kind even to strangers.

Love your writing hope you have a good day

thank you ! :) and i hope this is alright i kind of got carried away with word count haha

cw for sexual harassment

-

For most of his adult life, Simon has recognized the fact that he is a large man. Tall and broad and imposing; if it weren’t for the learned skill of making himself small, it’d be quite difficult to ignore his presence in just about any room.

That being said, just because he’s a large man does not mean he’s overbearing, overpowering, disrespectful. But he knows he is intimidating more often than not, so why is it that the uninvited man in his booth only moves closer every time Simon denies another offer for a drink?

The man is smaller than Simon, though not by much. And logically, realistically, Simon knows he could win a fight if it came down to it. But he’d prefer no conflict, really—quite ironic for a military man—it’s just particularly difficult when he feels unwanted lips press against his neck, teeth nipping at sensitive skin that only seem to chase when Simon attempts to pull away.

A hand grips tightly onto his bicep to keep him in place as if he isn’t already cornered, crowded up against the wall with nowhere to escape to. Simon feels alone, small, and his mind churns with too few ideas of how to get out of this.

Another hand creeps between his thighs, and Simon can’t help the way his knee jerks in aversion, slamming painfully against the underside of the table as the man only laughs, his hot, putrid breath on Simon’s throat as he continues to purr various pet names that have Simon’s skin crawling.

He’d apparently been foolish to believe a man like himself could have a drink in peace.

The man is then dragging Simon out of the booth as much as Simon attempts to stay put, but the nails digging crescents into his skin threaten blood just as the falsely saccharine smile on the stranger’s face does.

Mercifully, Simon is not brought to the washroom, or some other dark corner in the establishment. He’s only brought to the bar for the moment, a drink he doesn’t want ordered, a vice grip still held on his arm.

But he must be owed some miracle by a higher power, when he’s granted just a brief enough window to put in another order, as the man turns to flirt with the woman in the barstool next to him like he hasn’t been attached to Simon for the better part of a half hour.

The bartender’s gaze flickers between him and his unwelcome company and her brow furrows, jaw set as she nods minutely with a mouthed promise to see what she can do.

Simon can only pray as minutes are fleeting.

*

John has had his eyes on the booth for quite a while.

At first, it was in admiration. A sort of pining for the ruggedly handsome stranger sitting alone in the booth, occupied by whatever thoughts danced about such a pretty head. John decides quickly that he could never approach the man, to scared to disrupt the stranger’s clear peace, the temporary reprieve that keeps his brow relaxed and jaw unclenched as he traces the rim of his glass.

Briefly, there’s a jealousy when another man slips into the both beside the stranger, burrowing into the man’s side with far too much comfort to not be intimate.

But that jealousy quickly melts away for anger, concern, fear. In his quick glances to the corner, John notices the clear look of discomfort on the stranger’s face as the other man claims the stranger’s space as his own. John sees the word no on the stranger’s lips more times than John is comfortable knowing, but he doesn’t know if he should interfere just yet.

Doesn’t know what consequences it might have for the stranger. So John holds back a little longer, shifting constantly in his seat as a quiet fury prickles at his spine, the instinct to jump into action growing by the second. He couldn’t just sit by and let it happen, hope that the situation resolves itself. He couldn’t.

And he doesn’t have to. Not as the stranger is pulled up to the bar, still tense and nearly as rigid as a statue. Not as John overhears him order an angel shot the first chance he gets, with only a single nervous glance toward the man beside him, as if he couldn’t easily overpower such scum without trying.

The bartender doesn’t reappear before the stranger is being dragged off again.

That’s when John intercepts.

He moves from his table and directly into their path, plastering on a smile in greeting like he hadn’t been keeping eyes on the situation for as long as it had been going on.

“Hey, it’s been forever!” John exclaims, bumping a fist against the stranger’s shoulder. “Thought I’d never see you again after you transferred units.”

The stranger forces a laugh, still visibly trying to pull away at the man that refused to leave him alone.

“It’s good to see you,” is the quiet response. Any other time and John might have melted into the low rumble of his voice, but he shoves that want away, deep down until it’s entirely subdued. It’s unfair to the stranger. “I—“

“Who are you?” The man—the offender—asks loudly, turning his nose up at John before peering past him like he’s wondering how easy it’d be to push John aside and continue being an asshole to the poor stranger.

“An old friend.” John keeps his voice pointedly neutral as he squares his shoulders, tries to make himself taller. “From the army. You wouldn’t mind if I steal him a moment, aye?”

The man narrows his eyes at John, hardly considering.

John adds, “Not every day I get to catch up with the best sniper I’ve met.”

If only he knew how close to the truth he was.

The man seems to shift a bit with the comment, almost like he’s uncomfortable with the thought of messing with someone of such qualifications. His grip must loosen, as the stranger finally wrenches his arm free.

“We’re… busy,” the man finally decides.

“Then I’ll sit with you.”

“I don’t know if—“

“Really.” John grits his teeth. “I insist.”

The stranger’s eyes dart between John and the man, throat working anxiously as he watches everything play out.

The man scoffs, finally stepping away entirely. “Fine,” he mutters. “Whatever.”

John doesn’t miss the breath of relief that escapes the stranger as he’s finally left alone. He doesn’t miss the slump of his shoulders, the shift in his stance. John smiles sheepishly up at him once the man is out of sight.

“I’m sorry about that,” he apologizes. He offers out a hand. “I’m John.”

Acceptance, a shake. The man’s own hand is warm, large, enveloping. “Simon. Thank you.”

John shrugs. “It’s the very least I could do, really,” he says softly. “I’ll walk you out?”

Simon nods, a subtle gratefulness in his face. He offers a reserved smile to John, and John thinks his knees go weak.

He leads Simon outside, few more quiet words exchanged before bidding farewell and safe wishes. Simon thanks him again before crossing the street and disappearing back into the city.

For the next few years, John would find himself wishing they could have met under different circumstances.

*

The sound of transport is loud in Ghost’s ears along with the hustle and bustle of men preparing to ship out for their next assignment.

Shepherd is in his headset with details of the mission, but Ghost can hardly be bothered—he’s already been briefed several times over. It’s a high stakes mission, after all.

Though, most if not all of his missions seem to be.

The general mentions something about a sergeant that’ll be joining Ghost, fighting under his command. Ghost hardly processes the introduction before said man is disembarking from a truck and marching up to the lieutenant.

Before said man bumps a fist to Ghost’s chest like he had however many years ago. Before John is smiling brightly at him and promising to save Ghost a seat.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Ghost mumbles, breathless.

But of course, John wouldn’t recognize him. Not with the mask and battle-hardened years. Not with anything more than a callsign to address him.

Ghost continues on his way. He can focus on this much, much later. When his job isn’t coming first. When his life won’t be in peril.

At least he knows he can place trust in the sergeant. Instinct tells him, even when he’s never seen John fight.

Instinct tells him, when he recalls the irony of the excuses John made to help him escape a bad situation. It had never been lost on him.

Ghost clears his throat, and slips into command.

*

Soap never expected the Ghost to be so kind to him when they begin working together.

The lieutenant doesn’t go easy on him, of course, but he isn’t nearly as standoffish with Soap as he is with everyone else. He doesn’t place nearly as much trust in others as he does Soap—barring someone like Price, of course.

Soap doesn’t expect to find himself nearly preening, knowing he’s some sort of exception, because Ghost is someone he admires like so few others.

Ghost doesn’t undermine him. Doesn’t chide him for biting back at authority, doesn’t dismiss his ideas or contributions.

He’s a good man, Soap learns, in spite of rumours. A very alive and human man, in spite of everything others claim.

He’s a man that, apparently, Soap had met years prior.

After betrayal, survival, and everything between, Soap learns this. Learns this as his new team crowds around a table as a new team is formed from the ashes of what they had all been. Learns this as Ghost tosses ski masks from a duffle onto the table and reaches for his own hard-plate mask and pulls it off, revealing mussed hair, pale skin and a litany of scars, and a face Soap never anticipated being so familiar.

And as Price is saying, “It’s good to see you, Simon,” Soap finds himself agreeing.

Then Simon is pulling a new mask over his face, and Soap finds himself thinking, swearing that they’d all better make it out of this thing alive.

He wouldn’t lose Simon a second time.