#response time is between 2+ weeks and sometime next year

[elliewrites77]

Uncle!Sukuna

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 6.5, 7

masterlist

Uncle!Sukuna who always hated the idea of settling down and having kids. he definitely did not want to be a parent.

Uncle!Sukuna who refused to even consider a pet because he didn't want that kind of responsibility.

Uncle!Sukuna who almost went off the grid when he got a call about stepping up as a guardian after his brother Jin and sister-in-law passed away, leaving their 6 year old son Yuji, who Sukuna hadn't seen since he was...1? maybe 2?

He hadn't been very close with Jin, and Jin's wife had always had "a bad feeling" about Sukuna, so it wasn't like he was going over every Sunday for family dinner.

Uncle!Sukuna who agrees to talk to Yuji's social worker, after multiple phone calls, to at least get an understanding of what's being asked of him, and what's at stake.

Uncle!Sukuna who the second he sees Yuji, knows he won't be able to say no to the kid. Despite being Jin's son, the boy looked exactly like Sukuna. The biggest difference in their appearance was the gummy grin that Yuji gave as soon as he saw his tall, broading, indimidating uncle. Sukuna was surprised at the...brightness the kid held, despite all he had lost.

Uncle!Sukuna who spends the next few weeks before he officially becomes Yuji's guardian getting his life together. He has money, owning his own bar and sometimes bartending there has kept his bank account more than happy. But he's never cared for big spending, except for his fancy car. So he moves out of his apartment, moving into a nice family house, in a quaint, safe neighborhood, neither of which he ever saw himself doing.

But the second he saw Yuji's face light up when he pulled up to the house for the first time, he knows he made the right choice. Even if he did grumble and act indifferent and uncaring.

Uncle!Sukuna who is suprised how easily Yuji takes to him, how comfortable he is so quickly. Considering the kid barely knew him, he acted like he had been around forever. He already calls him Uncle Kuna, and is not the least bit deterred by his hard, cold exterior.

Uncle!Sukuna who acts like Yuji is an inconvenience, an annoyance. He tells him he better not ask for anything unless he's willing to work for it. But he always finds himself buying the kid stuff whenever he goes to the store, whether it's a toy, a snack he doesn't need, a movie, or whatever. even if Yuji doesn't ask one.

Uncle!Sukuna who internally panics when there's an emergency when there is an emergency at his bar that requires his immediate attention. It's late, and there's no one to watch Yuji, and he definitely couldn't take him.

Uncle!Sukuna who practically drags a half-asleep Yuji out of the house, ignoring the kids mumbled confusion as he pulls him to the house across the street. He recalled seeing a kid in the yard the week prior, so he was taking a chance in hoping that meant there was a willing parent there too. Irresponsible and risky but he only had so many options.

Uncle!Sukuna who practically bangs on the strangers' door, waiting impatiently for someone to answer. He completely ignores the fact that it is 2 am and a weeknight.

When you open the door, rubbing your tired eyes to see a tense, tall man holding the back of a little boy's shirt, who is grinning brightly as if it wasn't 2 am, it takes you a moment to process. You glance between them a few times. They look familiar, but you can't place where you've seen them.

"Can i help you?" You eventually ask, confused and tired, and slightly annoyed at his previous banging.

Sukuna is a little thrown by the softness of your voice, by how sweet it sounds. Even with the clear tiredness and weary. He does nothing to hide his glance of..appreciation of your figure, but only lets himself get distracted for a moment before he gruffly explains why he was there, not even introducing himself.

You stare at him in suspicion for another silent moment, before glancing back to the boy next to him and giving him a kind, soft smile. Sukuna ignores the unfamiliar feelings in his chest when he sees that smile aimed at his nephew.

"I can watch him till the morning." You finally said, looking back to Sukuna. He took no time to push Yuji into your house, a breath of relief and a mumbled thanks leaving his lips before he turns, briskly walking to his car.

Once the door is shut, you stare at the child in your entry way, while he stares back up at you. You were still processing the situation, to be fair.

"Hi honey, I'm y/n. What's your name?" You ask with a tired sigh. he grins once more.

"I'm Yuji! you're pretty."

you chuckle, ruffling the kids pink hair fondly. Something about this situation told you this little boy and his unnamed guardian were gonna bring something totally new to your life.

----

not proofread

[meo-on-prairie]

Deserve Better

Prompt: After a shitty breakup, involving a douchebag of an ex, who makes you realize he never loved you to begin with. You went to your best friends for comfort, but instead of telling you “you deserve better”, they show you the best you deserve. 

Word count: 1786

Tags: FLUFF, a tablespoon of Angst, hurt and comfort, Gojo and Getou being sweetest boys, satosugu established, satorugu x reader not yet, mention of: manipulation and love bombing.

Rambling: This is an extremely self-indulgence fic, heavily inspired by my shitty ex lmao. I just wanna be sandwich between Gojo and Getou to comfort my angry heart :((. This is a mini series, I wanna able to make this series to be compose of a bunch of stand-alone fics that merge together. This is my first time writing after a long while so… 

//////

“He was a pathetic liar!” you shout as soon as Suguru opens the door. Tears are streaming down your faces and you can’t seem to make them stop. The sight of your face full of anger and sorrow quite nearly broke Suguru’s heart. Oh, how he wished he could erase your pain. Not make your pain go away, no, he wanted to erase it from your life completely.

Satoru walks toward the door after hearing the loud commotion, “what did he do this time?” he said knowing exactly who was responsible for your tears. With all honesty, Satoru is only asking for your sake, if he could have it his way, violence is always the answer.

Satoru and Suguru are used to this, it’s been 2 years of this clockwork. Ever Since you start dating your pathetic boyfriend, Anthon, it been a cycle of you venting to them about your relationship problem, them telling you to break up with the fucker, and you “work it out” with the douchebag, who can only tell lies and empty promises, the next day and all is good for about 1 month. It’s the same cycle of them clearly seeing that you are being manipulated, yet unable to do anything. But then again, what can they do? They’re only your friends, nothing more even if they want to be more, and as friends, the only thing they can do is be there for you.

Anthon was your first love, your glasses were not tinted, it was dyed rose-pink. You loved him with everything you got, always there to support him mentally, emotionally, and even sometimes financially. In return, he would love-bomb you with constant, nonstop, overly cheesy affectionate words. He also made a lot of promises to you: of marriage, of spoiling you, of being a better man for you, of being faithful to you; all of which are empty and meaningless in hindsight. They’re so meaningless in fact that it led you to break-up with him 2 weeks ago.

You were tired of his empty words, so you laid down your boundary, you told him you would never want to marry someone who refuses to find a job to support themselves. His answer? “Why can’t you be nicer about these things? Your words cut deep”. Anthon was a man of nothing, he had nothing but his words, and even then he couldn't even keep them. But you loved him, so you put it all aside, all his actions, all his shortcomings, his unwillingness to change for himself; you put it all aside and waited with baited breath, surely, surely…. Surely he’ll do as he said. He never did. 

“Come in first, the night is cold, I don’t want you to get sick” Suguru ushers you through the door and into their apartment. As Suguru guided you toward their living room, Satoru went into the kitchen to grab some tissues, water, and something for you to eat your feelings away. 

As soon as your body touched the soft velvet material of their couch, you crumbled into Suguru’s arms. He pulls you in closer to his body as yours shakes and heaves, you two sit like that for what feels like an eternity as you let the tears that carry your pain and sorrows fall from your eyes. Your hands balls up Suguru’s shirt as you cry in his embrace, you try to control your sob but it only makes your body shakes harder, almost hyperventilating.

“Shhhh, take your time, let it out. I’m here… we’re here… we’re not goin’ anywhere”

“He said he loves me! He said he wanted to marry me! And not even 2 weeks after our breakup, he’s getting his dick wet and telling another girl he loves her!” you choked out in anguish, still in denial that any of this is real.

“How did you find out about that?” Satoru asked, carrying a tray full of food; after hearing your sobs, he decided that a few snacks wasn’t going to cut it. 

“Because the fucker doesn’t even have the decency to keep it private, he been posting her all over his social media!” you swipe out your phone in frustration, pulling up Anthon’s account to show your two best friends the picture of your ex and the girl sitting on his lap, kissing. 

They both make a face when you show them the picture, “gross” they said in unison as Satoru places the tray on the table and sits down on your other side.

“I’m just so angry, I can’t believe I wasted 2 years loving someone who never was truthful to me! How can I be so stupid?” your tears are boiling hot, they feel like acid on your skin.

“Hey, hey, look at me, you’re not stupid for simply loving someone.” Satoru cups your face with his hands, nudging you to face him, his thumbs gently wiping away your tears. You close your eyes and feel the warmth of his hands. It’s comforting to be held so gently.

“That’s right, don’t shame yourself for being strong enough to love someone with all you got. That’s a strength, not a weakness.” Suguru agrees, pulling a couple of tissues from the box and handing it to you. 

You take the tissues from him to wipe away the tears and blow your nose, it was getting a little hard to breathe from crying, “Thank you… It just hurt realizing that even though I loved him, he never loved me; at least, I don’t think someone who loves me would go out of their way to hurt me like this. Him posting her and rubbing it in my face not even 2 weeks later makes me feel like… I just wasn't worth loving…”

“You’re right, someone that loves you wouldn’t hurt you like he did. But that doesn’t mean you’re unlovable. To us, you’re worth all the love this world has to offer…” Suguru whispers, placing his hand on your shoulder, and he means it. God, does he mean it. Satoru can see it in his partner’s eyes, the same feelings he has.

Satoru and Suguru have loved each other deeply since they were kids, but they always feel something is missing in their relationship. When you walt into their life when they were 15 through the door call “physic group project”, they thought something was wrong with them. They still very clearly love each other, their love is still burning, but their hearts forget how to beat when you smile at them.

How can they not fall for you? You’re kind, so kind you would push aside your shyness and discomfort to help those that need it. You’re intelligent, you quite literally carried them through that physics group project. And dear god, the way you just fit perfectly into their dynamic makes them realize very quickly that they desperately want you to be a part of their life. So desperately, they couldn’t bring themselves to tell you about their feelings in fear of scaring you away from them forever.

“Tell you what? Let’s watch some true crime documentary that you like so much since you’re secretly a sociopath, maybe they’ll give you the inspiration of what to do for revenge?” Satoru said with a smirk.

“If inspiration striked you, we’ll be your executioners.” Suguru added, smiling in relief seeing that you're feeling better after letting it all out. You let out a small giggle and nod. 

Satoru turns on the TV and searches for “Unsolved” while Suguru goes to grab the three of you a blanket. When Suguru comes back with the blanket, you get comfortable cuddling between the two of them on the couch. Between Satoru’s jokes about how if he was the detective case wouldn’t have gone cold, and Suguru’s soft chuckles of ‘sure babe’ at his boyfriend’s comment,you start to feel a lot better. 

You have always felt the most at home with them. It felt natural to be with them, Satoru’s humor brings laughter into your day, Suguru’s gentleness makes you feel safe. They ground you. You’re starting to wonder why you were even with the dirtbag when you have best friends who show you how you should be treated. But before you can think more on that, drowsiness takes over you.

It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep. With how hard you were crying and the emotional turmoil you experienced, it would be more surprising if you stayed awake. Satoru looks over to the sight of your sleeping face. He squeezed Suguru’s hand he been holding behind you on the headrest of the couch.

Suguru looks over at Satoru and notices where his gaze was directed at. “I don’t want to see her like that again. She deserves all the sunshines life has got to offer, not heartbreak” Satoru whispered softly. 

“Do… you think⸻” Suguru started

“Yeah.” 

It’s a silent agreement between them. They’re done with watching you on the sideline. They’re done with seeing you in pain. They don’t want to be afraid of losing you anymore if it means they have to leave your happiness in the hands of some other dudes that’s not them. In the hands of someone that doesn’t know how to cherish it like they do. 

Suguru gives Satoru’s hand 3 long squeezes, I love you. A soft and silent affection flows between them. You always joke that they’re each other's twin flames due to how they seem to be sharing the same soul; their ideology, way of thinking, even how they feel. They’re so similar despite different personalities it’s uncanny. But they think that if they’re each other’s twin flame, then you would be their soulmate. 

They let go of each other's hands so Satoru can carry you into their guest’s room. Well, they call it that but the color and decorations they have in it are all catered to your liking, plus no one beside you ever stays the night anyway. 

Suguru opens the door to the room for Satoru. They laid you down and tucked you in. 

Suguru went into the bathroom to get a damp face towel. He softly wipes away your streaks of tears so you can sleep comfortably without feeling the stickiness from your tears. 

They closed the door as quietly as possible so they don’t wake you, not before glancing at you one last time. 

Looking at each other, eyes full of love and determination, they silently vow to each other. They’re going to make you fall, sweep you right off your feet. They’ll treat you like you’re their most prized treasure. You’ll fall for them so hard, you’ll forget you’ve ever loved anyone but them.

[helloalycia]

𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 [𝐓𝐖𝐎] — 𝐒𝐊𝐘𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐘

one / three / masterlist / wattpad

summary: as you and Skye try to relearn how to be friends again, you realise it’s harder than you thought.

warning/s: mentions of injury, substance abuse, poor mental health and basically everything Skye goes through oof.

author's note: here’s part 2! so sorry it was delayed, i’ve been stuffed with cold for the past few days so didn’t have chance to share it. Hope this makes up for it anyway :)

"...and I'm just outside your building now," I said to Skye over the phone, lingering outside.

"I was just about to call," she said in a rushed voice, sounding apologetic. "I'm running late, but I'm almost there. Give or take ten minutes. You can head straight up. The doorman knows to let you in and the spare key is in the same place as always."

I hesitated at her response.

It wasn't a big deal, I'd been to her apartment many times, but it had also been a year since I'd last been and it felt strange to go up alone. Especially because I was just supposed to be meeting her to go out, not actually going inside.

"Oh, I can just wait outside, it's okay," I said, maybe a little too quickly, but she didn't seem to notice.

"No, it's fine, you head up, I'll be with you soon," she assured me, before I heard a sound in the background. "I gotta go. See you in ten!"

I chewed my lip before putting my phone away and heading straight inside. As Skye said, the doorman recognised me and let me straight up, and it felt odd. The last time I'd been in the lift, I was crying on the way down from that awful argument between Skye and I. I hadn't been back since – I'd had no need to. But now...

It wasn't the same, I had to remind myself of that. She wasn't the same. None of this was.

Over the past few weeks, we'd somewhat returned to how things used to be, but it was all baby steps. Being each other's friend was second nature, and yet moments like this sometimes had me stumbling in the dark.

I found her door at the end of the hall, digging out the spare key from behind the framed painting next to it. A stupid place to keep it I'd always thought, but the whole place was guarded anyway so it didn't matter.

After opening the door, I returned the key to its spot before letting myself in. Everything looked the same as I last remembered it, and I didn't want to admit it to myself, but I'd missed it. I still remembered when she bought it and moved in, after her career picked up overnight. We'd had countless movie nights here, sleepovers that lasted days sometimes, and it just brought back so many memories. Good, as well as bad, but I tried not to focus on the latter.

I began to walk around aimlessly, waiting for her to return, eyeing the cabinet full of awards, the framed albums, admiring the penthouse view from her living room, and then I came across some framed photos hung on the wall. Some were of her and her mum when she was a kid, others were as she grew up, and then I spotted a familiar one.

It was a photo of Skye performing her first ever single on her first ever TV appearance years ago, and it was a photo taken by me, one of my first professional gigs as a photographer. A small smile tugged at my lips, realising she hadn't taken it down. I was touched that she kept it.

The door opening made me glance away and see Skye rushing in, looking a bit dishevelled. When she spotted me, she smiled with relief.

"Hey, sorry, I didn't mean to run late," she said as she closed the door behind her.

"It's fine," I said dismissively, before joking, "You know, you're a little too trustworthy. It's been a year. I totally could have come up here and, like, I don't know, robbed you or something. Sold your shit on eBay."

She tossed her bag to the couch as she laughed quietly, quirking a brow. "Oh, really? A year and you've suddenly turned into a criminal?"

"I could've."

"What a personality change."

I laughed as she stopped by my side, nudging me in the arm slightly, before her gaze fell to the photos hung on the wall.

"Ah, going through memory lane, I see," she teased lightheartedly.

I glanced at her with a slight smile. "It's cute that you've still got it. Even if it is a terrible photo."

"It's not," she said with a chuckle, looking at it with pride. "It's a two in one, I had to keep it. My first TV appearance and the day I met you. It just makes it extra special that you took the photo."  

My cheeks grew warm at her words, and I found myself staring at her profile as she smiled reminiscently at the photo. We'd come so far since then and yet I still did a double take whenever I looked to her. Maybe some things hadn't changed...

"I'm just gonna change my clothes and then we can head out," she said after a moment. "Won't be long."

"It's cool, take your time," I said with a nod, watching as she went to her room, before looking back to the photo and finding myself smiling all over again.

—

Becoming friends with Skye again made it easy to remember all the best parts of having a friendship with her, so much that I almost forgot what led to everything being ruined in the first place.

Of course there was the substance abuse, but the reason for that was the anxieties and stresses that came with being one of the most popular celebrities in the world. And it definitely didn't help that Skye never had a lot of support from her team, who only ever saw her as a commodity. Clearly that hadn't changed.

I'd just finished some work one morning and had plans to hang out with Skye after, maybe catch a movie or something as she had the day off, we hadn't really decided. But when I called her, she answered groggily.

"Hey, Skye, you good?" I asked jokingly.

She made a sound like a yawn before humming. "Yes, sorry, I was just napping. Just been tired."

"Oh, I was calling to say I'm free now, but we can rearrange if–"

"No, no, I want to see you," she cut me off with assurance, forcing herself to sound more lively. "A movie, right? Or lunch?"

I tried not to snicker. "Skye, it's your day off and you sound exhausted. It's alright."

"I'm fine, honest," she said confidently, or an attempt at it. "Please, I was looking forward to seeing you."

I sighed, debating whether or not to listen to her. Then, I thought of a solution. "How about we stay in? I can come to yours and we can watch a movie there?"

"Yes, I'd love that," she said with a hint of relief. "Thank you. I'll get the blankets warmed up in the dryer, ready for your arrival."

I laughed quietly. "Sounds good. I'll bring some snacks and be over soon."

And just like that, we both kept to our word and got comfortable on her couch barely half an hour later. Snacks were laid out on the coffee table whilst two fluffy blankets covered us completely. Still, we leaned against each other for warmth.

Skye was definitely burnt out, her general enthusiasm diminished temporarily and her movements sluggish, but she was smiling all the same as she spent time with me. I knew she meant it, but it still worried me that she wasn't getting enough time to simply rest.

"How's tour stuff going?" I asked as she loaded up a film on Netflix.

She shrugged as she focused on the task at hand. "Alright. Been busy. You know how it can get."

I glanced at her. "I do."

She must have noticed my staring as she stopped what she was doing and looked over at me with an amused smile. "What?"

"Nothing," I said nonchalantly, looking to the TV. "Just remember that you can take a break if you need to. It's important or you'll risk burning out."

She sighed, leaning her head on my shoulder and playing with the blanket mindlessly. "I know. I am."

"Enough breaks," I clarified, watching her hands play with it. "I mean, your team are supportive, I'm sure, but they don't always know what's best for you."

She snorted with amusement, glancing up at me. "And you do?"

I met her gaze, half playful and half serious. "Maybe. Maybe not. But I'll always be an advocate of you taking a freakin' break."

She suppressed a smile as she nudged me appreciatively. "You're right. I will. I guess I've just been busy making sure everything is perfect. It has to be, you know? Especially after everything."

"I know," I said sympathetically. "I get it. Just... take care of yourself. Please."

She nodded, though sunk further into the couch as she laced her hands around my arm to get comfortable, almost like she was ending the conversation without saying so. I took the hint and looked back to the screen.

"Picked a film yet?" I asked.

"Almost."

—

Despite how easy it was to fall back into everything with Skye, there were still topics we didn't discuss. Like we never brought up our friendship-ending argument again, or her time in rehab, and she never talked about the accident. It wasn't that I didn't leave that space open for her to discuss, but it was definitely her way of keeping that separate by not bringing it up. And naturally, I didn't want to force her to relive it by bringing it up either.

But not talking about it meant I didn't always know how to help her.

We were walking around a park near her apartment one evening, enjoying a stroll at first, but then we started to mess around on some of the playing equipment since the place was deserted.

"You really think you can clear it in ten seconds?" I asked her with a laugh as she looked up at the monkey bars.

"I do, yeah," she said, mirroring my laughter as she glanced at me. "You just watch. Go on. Grab your phone. Timer at the ready please."

Curious, I pulled out my phone and stepped back, finger hovering over the timer. "Ready when you are, idiot."

She grinned before standing beneath the monkey bars. Looking up at them, she took a deep breath, about to jump up, but I intentionally interrupted to throw her off.

"You sure you don't wanna stretch first?"

She jumped and glared at me playfully. "Shut up. Just get ready."

I laughed and waited patiently, watching as she readied herself once more. And then she jumped up to grab the bars and I started the timer.

She managed to move down three bars before faltering at the fourth one and then letting go all of a sudden. My eyes widened when she landed on the tarmac with a sharp gasp, and I forgot all about the stupid timer as I rushed to check on her.

"Shit, Skye, you okay?" I asked quickly, kneeling down beside her.

Her face contorted in pain as her hand clutched her back. She was leaning on her elbow, clearly hurt.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," she muttered quickly, though she winced and her eyes were squeezing shut to suppress the pain.

I noticed she was holding her back – not really putting together that it was from her existing back pain from the accident – and tried to help by reaching for her jacket to see if she'd hurt it from the fall.

"No!" she suddenly shouted when she saw me attempting to touch her, and I jumped.

"Okay, sorry, sorry," I apologised, not wanting to overwhelm or upset her anymore than she already was.

I moved my hand back, but she grabbed it and squeezed gently before I could, an attempt at an apology for her outburst. A shaky sigh escaped her lips as she breathed out the pain, and I didn't say anything more as I held her hand, waiting patiently. Though my heart was clenching with concern the longer she took.

"It hurts sometimes," she finally spoke, avoiding my eyes, "from the accident. That's all."

When I realised it was much more than just falling from the monkey bars, I felt stupid and spoke without thinking. "Do you have medicine?"

She tensed her jaw as she glanced at me.

"Stupid question, sorry," I realised, grimacing.

She let go of my hand and shook her head, expression softening. "No, it wasn't."

Something was bothering her, more than the pain, but now wasn't the time to ask, so I settled on helping her stand up.

"Maybe we should call it a night," I said carefully. "It's getting late anyway."

She nodded, still avoiding my eyes, and we both walked back to her apartment in an awkward silence. A million things were running through my mind, mostly out of concern for Skye, and acknowledging my utter stupidity. For once, I couldn't read her.

When we reached the lobby inside, we paused by the lift.

"Are you okay?" I asked, trying to dial down my worry for her sake.

"Yes, sorry," she muttered.

"It's fine," I assured her, eyes scanning her expression as she purposely looked at my shirt and not me. "I didn't mean to overstep before. Sorry if I made you uncomfortable."

She shook her head, eyes flickering to mine briefly, sad, before looking down to her shoes. "You didn't. I just–"

She paused, a moment too long, enough to make me wonder what had her so uneasy.

"It's not pretty," she finally spoke, quieter than usual. "The... the scar. It's..."

"You don't need to explain," I said, when she didn't speak anymore, though my heart ached with concern, soon realising her uneasiness was embarrassment. An unnecessary embarrassment at that, as if I'd care about a scar when she was still here, alive.

I gave her a moment, hoping she'd say something more, but she didn't.

"Will you be okay?" I asked worriedly, not wanting to leave her tonight if her back was flaring up.

She nodded. "Yeah."

I nodded too, though was unsure how to say my goodbyes. Usually I'd go in for a hug, but she was already uncomfortable with me touching her before and the last thing I wanted was to do that again.

But then she finally looked up, eyes meeting mine gratefully, before she hugged me.

"Thanks for not thinking I'm weird," she mumbled into my shoulder, arms wrapped around them tightly.

I returned the hug gently. "I could never."

She didn't let go straight away and neither did I, not until she made the first move since clearly she needed this hug more than I did.

Finally, she pulled apart and offered me a small smile. "Goodnight, Y/N."

"Goodnight," I said, returning her smile, before reluctantly leaving her.

—

It was the first time we'd even come close to talking about the accident and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't worried. She wasn't opening up and I wondered if she felt like she couldn't. But maybe that incident was the key, because things changed soon after.

About a week later, I was fast asleep when I woke up to my phone vibrating on my bedside table. Confused, I cracked an eye open, wondering who could be calling in the middle of the night, but then the vibrating stopped. I considered if I cared that much, before deciding it could've been an emergency and checking who it was.

When I saw Skye's name, I woke up a little more, overcome with concern since she'd never called like this before. Immediately, I rang her back. It took two rings before she picked up.

"Hello?" she answered with confusion.

Still half asleep, I answered groggily, "Why are you confused? You just called me."

She sighed. "I did. Sorry. I cut it off when I realised."

She sounded different, her voice hoarse.

"What's wrong?" I asked, sitting up in bed and rubbing my eyes.

"Sorry, I just–" She tutted at herself. "It's late, Y/N, go back to sleep."

Even half conscious, I knew she wasn't okay. "Skye."

It went quiet, but she gave in, to my relief. "I had a bad dream," she admitted quietly. "I just wanted to distract myself. I didn't mean to wake you."

I frowned to myself. "Are you okay?"

A shaky sigh escaped her lips. "I will be. Really, just go to sleep, I'll be fine."

"I can't sleep knowing you're by yourself," I told her, too tired to hide my worry.

She paused, and then her voice came out guiltily, "Sorry."

"Don't apologise," I said gently, before asking, "Do you want me to come over?"

"No," she answered quickly, before adding, "It's late. I don't want you up and about this late into the night."

I was already pulling my duvet off and sitting at the edge of my bed as I said, "It's not a problem, Skye." It went quiet on her end, so I prompted, "Skye?"

"You don't mind?" she asked hesitantly.

Realising she did in fact want me there, I tried to reassure her. "No, of course not. I can come now."

She practically held her breath. "I owe you."

"You don't."

Exhaling softly, she said, "I'll send a cab to get you. I'll cover the cost. I don't want you on public transport in New York when all the weirdos are out."

I cracked a small smile. "Okay, Skye, see you soon."

Sounding relieved, she said, "See you soon."

I yawned as I hung up, trying to move quickly but still trying to wake up and so unintentionally moving at snail speed. After packing a small bag, including a change of clothes and some toiletries, I pulled on my shoes and a jacket before leaving for Skye's.

The taxi ride wasn't long since the streets weren't busy, and I found myself at Skye's door in less than twenty minutes. As soon as I knocked, she opened up.

"Hey," I said with a tired smile, before hugging her in greeting. "How are you?"

She hugged me back and let me in, closing the door behind me. I noticed she was wearing her pyjamas, hair dishevelled and eyes a little red.

"Better now," she admitted, before frowning. "I'm sorry I woke you up. But I'm glad you're here."

"I'm glad you did," I told her, before leaving my bag by the kitchen counter. "So, what do you want to do?"

"You're tired," she noticed.

I waved a hand dismissively, trying to look more awake. "I can stay awake if you want, Skye."

She sighed, shaking her head, before wordlessly grabbing my hand and dragging me to her bedroom.

"Come on," she said as she climbed into her queen sized bed, so I got out of my shoes and jacket and followed suit, settling in beside her.

We laid on our backs, staring up at the ceiling in silence. I chewed on the inside of my cheek as I glanced at her, her expression dimly lit by the moonlight and lights shining through her blinds. She was weary, though attempting to hide it.

"Do you have bad dreams often?" I asked curiously.

She swallowed visibly. "Not as much as I used to, but... sometimes, yeah." She paused, as if stuck in an internal debate, before admitting, "It was about the accident."

At the mention of the accident, the air in the room felt charged with uncertainty, and Skye's jaw tensed slightly.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" I asked tenderly, and when she didn't reply, I quickly added, "Or you don't have to at all."

Her dark eyes flickered to mine, surprisingly calm. "It's okay. It's just– it's a lot. And when I'm alone, it's..."

"A lot," I finished for her.

She nodded, looking back up at the ceiling. "Yeah."

I found her hand between us, squeezing it gently in support.

"I remember how difficult it was after," she muttered. "That, and the withdrawals, and all of it – it was a lot. Being in the hospital... I had my mum, but it felt so lonely."

I frowned as she recalled the experience, hearing it for the first time from her lips. And then she looked over at me and I looked back, realising there were tears in her eyes.

"Why didn't you come?" she asked, voice cracking and eyes welling up. "I wanted you to visit so bad. I– I thought you would."

Not expecting that, I struggled to speak. "I told you, Skye, I thought you wouldn't want me there. I..."

She let go of my hand and wiped her eyes shamefully, looking away. I sat up slightly, leaning on my elbow to look down at her, not wanting her to bottle everything up now.

"I waited," she whispered. "Every day, hoping you'd come to see me."

My heart crumbled at her words, guilt pressing down on my chest. "I'm sorry."

She squeezed her eyes shut. "It's not your fault, I know that. But I just..."

With the nightmare still fresh and her recollection of the past at the forefront of her mind, I knew her emotions were heightened and she was overwhelmed, and it hurt to witness.

I pulled her into my chest for a hug, rubbing her back gently. "I wish I had. I wanted nothing more than to see you then, Skye, truly. But I'm here now. I promise."

She didn't say anything, but she didn't pull away either. Her sniffles were heard in the silence of the room and she kept a firm grip on my tee shirt, and I didn't know what else to do other than continue to rub her back soothingly.

At some point, we must have dosed off like that because when I opened my eyes next, it was morning. I yawned as I rubbed my face, confused to where I was at first. And then I recognised Skye's room and it all came back to me.

I looked beside me, seeing Skye fast asleep, face smushed against her pillow adorably. She looked a lot better than she did last night and I was glad for it, seriously worried about her. Hopefully she'd gotten some sleep after everything.

Trying not to stare too long, reminding myself that it wasn't very platonic of me, I looked away and carefully clambered out of her bed to freshen up. After doing so, I went into her kitchen to find something to eat.

I was eating from a bowl of cereal at her kitchen island when I heard footsteps, looking up to see her leaving her bedroom.

"Good morning," I greeted. "How are you feeling?"

She hummed tiredly, yawning and running a hand through her dishevelled hair. I couldn't help but smile at how cute she looked.

"Better," she finally spoke, brown eyes meeting mine across the counter. "Thanks, Y/N. For coming last night."

I shrugged. "It's okay."

She sighed, shaking her head, and looked down thoughtfully. After a moment, she said, "I know I haven't talked to you much about it all."

My expression softened. "I don't expect you to."

"I know," she said quietly, before meeting my gaze. "I want to. I do. Otherwise the way I am, how I act... it doesn't make sense and I don't want you to feel confused or think I'm insane or–"

"Hey," I cut her off, furrowing my brows. "I don't think that, Skye."

She chewed her lip momentarily, eyes flickering to the counter top. "I want you to know. Eventually. I just– it'll be bit by bit because I can't go through it all at once. It's too much."

I frowned sympathetically. "That's alright. You can tell me as little or as much as you want, whenever you want. Meanwhile, if you just want the support, I can give you that too. It's what friends do."

She smiled a little, nodding. "Right."

I studied her expression, unsure what to make of it. "Did you get any sleep? Last night?"

She nodded, looking up. "I did, yeah. Thanks for coming. I know it was late. And I'm sorry for breaking down on you."

I gave her a knowing look, offering a small smile. "You need to stop apologising."

She exhaled. "Sorry."

I rolled my eyes playfully. "Never mind that. You want breakfast? I can make whatever you want, providing you have it of course."

She smiled as she took a seat. "That would be nice, yeah. Eggs couldn't hurt."

"Eggs it is then," I said, eating the last bite of my cereal before standing up. "Give me five minutes.”

She nodded and watched me, relaxed for even the smallest of moments, enough to put me at ease too.

[fagckity]

quackity x ftm reader

Stress Relief

you and alex have been dating for almost 2 years, and you finally managed to move together.

alex isn’t a very social guy, he likes having time alone for himself, so even tho you two sleep together, your offices were separated so you could have time alone during the day.

Alex was usually the one who got stressed out the most, different projects, either done by him or his friends, or some hateful comments. When he was stressed you were the most loving boyfriend in world and you made sure he felt good. Sometimes you would blow him so that all the stress would go away at that moment, or maybe ride him.. anything to make him feel good.

But these days there were a lot of things that were stressing you out, uploading videos and college, and it was all overwhelming you. Alex notice that you weren’t being that excited about anything anymore, you used to yap about your day at night before you two went to sleep, but this last days, he just found you sleeping before your usual bedtime.

After realizing this, Alex had an idea. He decided to finish work earlier that day so he could at least awake at night.

he went to your shared room and he find you laying the bed looking at your phone.

You had dark circles under your eyes and visually you were overwhelmed by stress, Alex let out a giggle and hugged you from behind letting out a chuckle. He started kissing your neck and making you drop your cell phone. You were tired so you blurted out a rather cold reply, "What do you want...?" - you growled, Alex started to bite and suck your neck a little harder, until you couldn't be upset anymore, you just let yourself go.... 

And from one moment to the next he was on top of you completely naked as he pulled down your pajama shorts and put your legs over his shoulders. Before you could say anything he said a sweet “shhh príncipe stay still I will be gentle okay?” — and you nodded, giving him consent to keep going.

He started thrusting slowly in and out of your sloppy and wet cunt, alex noticed how it was squeezing him in and oh god it felt amazing for both you. — “oh my god..- I forgot how wet you can be chiquito.. puta madre..” — both of you were feeling amazing, Alex started going quicker than before and also started rubbing your clit trying to make you cum.. which was weird cause he always wanted the moment to last.. but you didn’t complain.

after a few minutes you couldn’t hold it any longer and let out a pathetic moan “Alex.. I.. I am close.. fuck..” — he nodded, he was also a moaning mess, as if he was the one getting fucked. — “me too baby.. oh my god..” — you came first, and quickly after that, Alex came inside you.

He pulled out, and thought it was over, you were panting and trying to take deep breaths until you felt him thrust inside again.. this time with no time to adjust, he just started thrusting at the same quick pace he had literally one minute ago. It was too much for you. — “Ale.. I can’t..” — you whimpered, he laughed between breaths and said — “shh don’t worry, I know you can. I just need to make sure to fuck every little stressing thought out of that pretty little brain okay?” — you could just moan and nod as a response, the feeling was amazing but it was a bit overwhelming. — “Good boy.” — he said.

this continued for hours, or at least you felt like it. You have lost the count of how many times he made you cum, you weren’t even thinking anymore, you were dumbfounded by his cock to the point you could only mumble non sense. Alex was definitely good in what he is doing, and it felt amazing.

You two finally couldn’t do anything more, both of you were tired, Alex gently pulled out and kissed your head. Carrying you to the bathroom and cleaning you up, at that moment you were just saying incoherent things and Alex was laughing at it as he took good care of you, like the amazing boyfriend he is. ———————-

This is my first post omg, I have this thing written since probably last week but I was embarrassed to create an account to share my delusional latenight thoughts.

it’s 8pm in London and it’s really cold aaa

[withoutyouimsaskia]

Sometimes It's Fated (Sandman Short Story Part 2)

Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

​GIF: Originally posted by @harleytudinous

Pairing: Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x AFAB reader

Summary: Reader Self-Insert. After restoring the Dreaming and locating the missing dreams and nightmares, Morpheus turns his attention to finding you, the human he believes fate has chosen for him. (Title inspired by Placebo's "This Picture".)

Warnings: Minors DNI. Dark!Morpheus. Soulmates. Angst. Obsessive and possessive behaviour. Tension. Threat. Dream manipulation. Masturbation. Voyeurism. Plot related cigarette use. Dubious consent.

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: So I know I initially billed this as a two shot but the story has run away with me in the most lovely way. Part 3 will be coming soon. Thank you for all your kind responses to part 1, it honestly means so much to me. Hope you enjoy this one too. All my love, Saskia xx

Sandman Masterlist

---------------------------------------------

The veil of sleep comes down upon your weary body with a feather-light touch, trying to coax your mind back into the world of dreams.

Dreamscapes have been a whole new experience for you in the past month of your life. Before, you would wake with no recollection of what had played out. Not even the slightest inkling. Now, you remember everything.

They are staggering; bursting with details and ideas beyond your most outlandish daytime imaginings. The emotions that are conjured by them, both when asleep and also awake are just as bold.

And even though it's been 23 nights since it started you are still finding them predominantly jarring and disorientating. You are baffled by how other people cope with the sheer vividness. The unpredictability. Maybe they have become desensitised. You can only hope that the same will happen for you in time.

One thing you tell yourself with each sunrise:

Thank goodness they weren't nightmares.

At least, you don't think they are. There's no resemblance between yours and what you have heard others describe over the years, nor to those outlined in a dream decoding book you had checked out of the library last week. There's no obvious threat or fear. No re-living of traumatic events. Just weird subtext.

The first dream found you standing barefoot on a beach. A mirage distorted the particulars of the scene making it impossible to see further than half a meter in front of you. The temperature of the sand under your soles was verging on painful and as such, it forced you to walk into the unknown before you.

A groaning wind started to brew and lifted the sand into sparkling flurries. You shielded your eyes from the abrasive particles.

The sun was at its apex when you heard the ear splitting bangs. Unmistakably gun shots; you didn't last much longer in the dream and woke with a start.

For the next week, your dreams had been like a series of video clips edited into a supercut.

Raven wings. Black cats. Hellfire. Ruby red glow. Sprawling library shelves. Landscapes hewn by earthquake fissures. Hotel corridors. A handsome, blond haired man wearing sunglasses, holding a blood covered knife.

If you didn't know any better, you would begin to suspect that your new box of tea bags had been laced with a psychedelic. Alas, no. Your hypothesis was unequivocally disproved when you friends had been completely unaffected after stopping by for a Sunday afternoon catch up.

This quick fire of snapshots eventually stopped, transforming into lucid long form dreams. You often think back to the first one where it happened.

Standing in the the empty room, and the appearance of the figure dressed in black. The colour that had flashed in their midnight eyes had the quality of liquid silver. Sometimes you wonder if you see the same image in other dreams, standing in amongst a crowd.

From that point on, regardless of what dream you are in, you cannot shake the intuitive prickle down your spine that tells you someone is watching you.

You reason that it is nothing to be concerned about. Humans dream, and you cannot deny that some of them - swimming in a sea of clouds, re-visiting childhood haunts, trying out superpowers - have been quite fun.

You roll over on to your left side and close your eyes.

You dream.

The room you see is expansive in breadth and depth. Impressive windows bring brilliant light into the space which bounces off the ivory stone of the floors and walls. There are statues positioned at equidistant intervals, implying that the chamber is a gallery of sorts.

One effigy, fashioned from bronze, and rich in colour draws your attention. The lines and curves of its form intrigue you, despite not knowing the creature it was portraying.

You are about to move on when the feeling of being watched sparks through your skeleton.

Everything changes.

Clarity gives way to haze. Sun is swapped for moon.

You see a man across the room. He stands with a perfect posture. Graceful, powerful. His elbows are bent, fingers interlaced, palms facing upwards. Sheer black fabric floats around his frame. It moves languidly, giving glimpses of his bare body beneath.

The man's face is imperceptible. The distance between you too great but somehow you know you are the focus of his attention.

His robes fall to the floor with a gossamer sigh. The pale, unmarked skin of his slight form glows beautifully in the moonlight. You look down in embarrassment as arousal flushes through you, and you see that you are suddenly as naked as he is.

You gasp, and snap your gaze back up.

The sight you see is rather unexpected. The man is intimately touching himself.

You feel compelled to mirror him. You immediately reach between your legs. The man groans as you make contact.

All it takes is a little bit of attention on your clit before you are ready to slide two fingers into your core. The noise you make at the feeling of the stretch is salacious. The man echoes you with a sound that is just as dirty.

It spurs you on and you burrow deeper.

You curl your fingers until your legs are weak and quivering. You long to sink to your knees so you can finish in a more comfortable position yet you can't. An invisible force is preventing you.

It keeps you on display.

Just like the statues to your left.

You wonder if it is for the man's benefit.

You try to focus on him but it is impossible to do so through the trembling glaze over your eyes. All you are able to sense from him now is the sound of the rhythmic pump of his palm around his cock and his panting breaths.

Desperate whines escape your lips. You are teetering on the edge of an orgasm but you can't seem to lose your balance and fall into the abyss. The unsteadiness in your legs is too much of a distraction. You rub at your clit again in the hope that it will bring the satisfaction you need.

It does nothing.

You are so frustrated by your body's disobedience that it is almost painful.

"Please. Please. Please," you mutter under your breath.

A voice suddenly speaks next to you ear. A velvet voice with the timbre of a thunder rumble. It pours like a soothing syrup into your brain and commands you to do exactly as it bids.

"Let go."

You climax intensely, crying out in relief, squirting all over your fingers and onto your hand as you legs finally give way.

The fall jolts you back into consciousness and you wake with a barely contained scream of pleasure in your throat and adrenaline lighting up your nervous system.

Daylight is peeking through a little gap in the curtains. You take a deep, grounding breath.

That was obscene.

The context, the actions, the sounds. That sultry voice at the end. From the throbbing in your vulva and the twitching of your legs it seems like you didn't just finish in the dream.

There is really no point in looking it up in the dream decoding book.

You were clearly horny on a subconscious level. Or craving attention, hence the exhibitionist behaviour. The latter is not usually in your nature to seek out but if it is the reason, you might not have to wait long before the desire is fulfilled. There is a work event happening this evening that may require you to accept an award and address the crowd.

You love this time of year where community projects get recognition; a nomination alone is a sure-fire way of garnering publicity which in turn helps the charity's outreach.

But first, a normal day at the office. You throw back the covers and go straight to the bathroom to rinse off the evidence of your wet dream.

---------------------------------------------

Your right hand connects with the metal push plate of the function space's front door. The heels of your boots click and clack as you cross the threshold, moving from floor board to paving slab.

It's fortuitous that you brought a long, thick coat with you this evening for the wind is wintery and unforgiving. You stay close to the wall of the building to try and shelter from it as much as possible.

The pavements are slick with recent precipitation, streetlamps bouncing off of the water with caustic white light.

Then you see him; a figure cut from shadow.

He's breathing in such a laboured way that you wonder if he is sick.

Your phone is still inside the venue, currently being guarded by a colleague along with your bag but it wouldn't take long to retrieve it and call for medical assistance.

"You okay?" Concern colours the simple question.

His reply comes quickly and assertively, "I am well, thank you."

You nod, not entirely convinced for the stranger's response was as stiff as his posture, and reach inside the pocket of your coat for the box of cigarettes and lighter stashed within.

You settle one of the sticks between your lips and use your thumb to bring forth a flame. The crackle of smouldering paper and tobacco perforates the damp air and you take a needy drag. The nicotine taints and tantalises in equal measure, filling you with guilt and relief. You've been trying to give up but the little voice inside your head had won this evening. You close your eyes and focus on the pleasure it brings before flicking some ash into the tray mounted to the wall.

Your attention now back on your surroundings, the stranger steps into the scope of the streetlight. The angles of his cheekbones, jaw and nose are accentuated to an incredible extent in the gleam. His dark hair is being buffeted about the wind, locks of it very close to falling in the blue eyes that are unwaveringly trained on you. He begins to talk again, showcasing his deep baritone.

"I'm afraid I wasn't entirely honest with you just now. It is not how I envisaged our first interaction transpiring. I hope that you can forgive me for my deception."

You laugh nervously and take another quick drag. "It makes no difference if you're honest with me or not. I don't know you."

"You are correct. You don't know me. Not yet -"

"Oh," you cut in quickly. "I'm not looking for a hook up."

While you cannot deny that he is arrestingly beautiful, you are technically working and have never been one for one-night stands.

"You mistake my meaning. I have been searching for you for so long. I oftentimes doubted your existence however I was wrong and I find myself humbled to be in your presence at last."

The grandiose declaration is one of the stranger things you have heard in your life and you used to deal with drunken patrons when you worked at a university bar. Maybe he was intoxicated; it would explain a lot.

"Look, this might work on other people but I just came out here to have a cigarette -"

It is his turn to interrupt you now. "You will have no need of those going forward. Your addiction to them will be replaced by me."

"Excuse me?"

You are trying to sound incredulous, however, inside you are rather frightened by the turn the conversation has taken. His gaze is not helping either.

The crystalline eyes are embodying every part of the descriptor; a hard, chill inducing blue. Ash drops from the smouldering cigarette as a tremble of fear rattles through you. The man sees this and the ice suddenly melts to a warmer hue.

His tone turns soft and gentle. "We are supposed to be together. Our union is fated."

He's staring at you expectantly even after your two attempts at rejection. You swiftly stub out the part-finished cigarette and take ownership in ending the interaction.

"I've had enough of this. I'm going back inside now. If you try and follow me, I will speak to the venue's management. If you are still here when I leave later, I will call the police."

You turn towards the door.

He calls your name. Your full name. Middle name too.

Despite your brain chanting at you to go inside, you can't stop yourself from looking back at him. "H-how do you know my full name?"

The profound rumble of his voice resonates deep in your ears. "I know everything about you, Y/N."

He's right in front of you now. His posture is bordering between desperate and predatory. Like he can't quite decide if he is seeking comfort from you, or if he wants to consume you.

You are fumbling behind you to find the door handle. "Please get away from me," you say hoarsely.

He reaches for your hand.

You jump back and struggle to get out of his grip but his strength is inhumanly strong. His skin of his palm is glacial against yours and yet somehow, the touch makes heat snake up your arm and settle in your chest.

You become aware of an internal feeling that you've always had, like that of chapped lips. Low level but something that constantly nags. Something that existed every minute of your life until the moment he touched you.

You grip his hand and look up at his face in astonishment.

"Good. That's it. Look into my eyes. See what you know is there."

You do as he says, totally stunned by the depths that seem to reside within them. It's as if there are universes suspended inside. Maybe there are. Perhaps you could float among the celestial bodies if you asked him to show you how.

You feel so alive and overstimulated that you welcome the delirious thoughts taking over your mind.

You welcome him.

It's like there is a cord connected between your heart and his that is shortening in length. The intensity scares you.

"Give into the pull," he urges darkly, sensing your anxiety.

You obey, feet moving of their own accord and then you are standing before him, just centimetres apart.

He smiles triumphantly and presses you flush against his body.

His free hand comes up to cup your jaw, fingers brushing the sensitive skin of your neck. More heat sears through you from the additional skin-on-skin contact.

Your peripheral vision closes tighter and tighter with every passing moment. The outside world is gone.

He leans in further and you wonder hazily if he is going to kiss you or break your neck. Both options are equally viable given the behaviour he has exhibited. You keep staring at him regardless.

His irises flash silver as he intones his next sentence. "Y/N, I claim you as my soulmate."

-------------------------------------

Taglist: @herfantasyworldd @kpopgirlbtssvt

"Am I your dream girl? You think of me in bed. But you could never hold me. You like me better in your head."

[mantis-dea]

Bruno Bucciarati's Type Headcanon

Bruno is someone with a deep-seated desire for a loving relationship and perhaps, a family of his own. As the years go by, his desire increasingly starts to surface.

However, the path he walks is fraught with danger and uncertainty. Serving as Giorno’s right-hand man in Passione, his life is intertwined with the complex world of Italy’s strongest mafias.

As Team Bucciarati works tirelessly to clean up Passione and protect their territory from rival factions attempting to seize power, Bruno finds himself constantly away on perilous missions, often with little respite between them. His absence can range from days to weeks, and sometimes even longer.

The weight of his responsibilities and the knowledge that his life is constantly on the line weigh heavily on Bruno's heart. He is aware of the dangers he faces, and it pains him to imagine someone he cares about worrying and waiting for his return, only for that day to never come. He has seen too many comrades who had family fall, and it's a fear that haunts him.

He believes that suppressing this desire is the responsible thing to do.

Bruno not dating means several less things to worried about.

What if someone kidnaps his s/o and uses them as leverage?

What if he promised a night out, but he could not make it?

What if a rival member decides to kill his s/o?

Because of these factors, luck would truly have to be on s/o’s side, especially if they are a civilian.

As a generality, Bruno’s type would be someone who is kind, gets his weird sense of humor, and exudes a calming presence that makes spending time together effortless. Whether he and his s/o are fishing, listening to Miles Davis, or simply relaxing, being near his s/o soothes him.

On the other hand, while I do think Bruno values calm and stability in a partner more, I can also see Bruno liking someone slightly chaotic. Someone who he enjoys sharing a laugh with. Someone who does stupid things to get him to laugh. However, he's not looking for an extremely chaotic personality, as his demanding work already saps his energy and exposes him to such individuals regularly.

Additionally, this person must accept his line of work.

If his s/o is not part of the mafia, he won’t disclose his involvement unless they begin to suspect, or the relationship is about to go to the next level.

Bruno would want them to see him as a person first before they make a decision. Afterall, he is in Passione to eradicate drugs amongst the youths.

Bruno is most likely to enter a romantic relationship with a fellow member of Passione. His future s/o would need to have some experience within the organization, preferably working alongside Bruno on numerous missions where they shared the same living quarters.

There are two reasons why Bruno would date a fellow Passione member:

1.) Bruno will be less apprehensive about dating knowing they are perfectly capable of defending themselves.

2.) They understand the mafioso lifestyle. Though the disappointment will still be present, they won’t be resentful or surprised when he’s away for extended periods of time. This shared perspective significantly reduces potential strains and misunderstandings. Moreover, Bruno can have open discussions with his significant about Passione's members and issues, providing a valuable source of insight and support.

If his s/o is a civilian, they must be the one of the luckiest people ever.

For this civilian to catch Bruno’s attention, they’d have to do something truly “significant” in his eyes. It will most likely be an act of kindness.

Helping an elderly lady with groceries.

Buying a kid who didn’t have money an ice cream.

S/o trying to skim board in a fountain, only to fall face first into the water, attempting to avoid crashing into a kid.

I also have a one-shot where civilian s/o exchanges a bag of apples that Bruno was gifted for a bag of oranges. She was watering plants on her balcony when she overheard the conversation about him not being fond of apples. She runs down and exchanges the bags with him.

After witnessing an act of kindness, there is a low chance that Bruno may strike up a conversation with you. If you are close by him after the incident occurred, he may comment about it out loud.

As time passes, If Bruno sees s/o consistently after the initial incident, he will begin to think about them more frequently, noting just how often they keep crossing paths. If he’s in a crowd, he finds himself doing a quick glance to see if you are there.

After a series of encounters – four or five to be exact–, with each one seemingly involving him or his future s/o running into one another, he becomes drawn to them. He eventually initiates a conversation, sharing a chuckle at the uncanny frequency of their meetings. With each interaction, Bruno finds himself falling deeper in love, and s/o becomes a constant presence in his thoughts.

He starts to believe fate is trying to bring you two together. Unexpectedly, after some pep talk from Mista of all people, he finally goes and asks them out for dinner.

[avonne-writes]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Spread the self-love ❤

Thank you so much for this lovely ask! ❤️ I've been sitting on this for a while because my self-esteem has been horrible lately, but I'm trying to be kinder to myself tonight, so I thought I could finally answer this.

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5. Scorpion Grass (Lokius fic!) - 36.4k

Summary: When Loki is dragged along on a family vacation to Santa Cruz, he expects to be bored out of his mind, but a close call in the water turns everything on its head, and he's swept into the whirlwind of a summer romance.

I was on the fence about picking this one because it's 3.5 years old and I'm sure I'd cringe if I read my own old writing, but this is such a special fic to me. I wrote it during Covid lockdowns, when it was difficult to travel, and I put a lot of research into it to make the settings as realistic as possible. I wanted it to feel like a California vacation, with real locations and everything. Since some locals actually asked if I was from there, I felt like I succeeded.

+ Honorable mentions:

Symmetry (Clegan) - 5.2k

Summary: Not all of Gale's scars are from shrapnel wounds.

Aubade (Clegan) - 7.1k

Summary: A few weeks after Buck and Bucky became lovers, they have an opportunity to spend another leave together and take the next step in their relationship. Desire is only one thing though - the matters of the heart are much harder to express.

[taffywabbit]

I touched on this during a stream last night but like. the thing that's probably really confusing about Mormonism is, if it's so wildly restrictive and puritanical and alienating, why do people actually want to JOIN the religion and claim to like it and feel that it improves their quality of life?

I've talked at length before about how, like any good cult organization, the church weaponizes rejection from outsiders and a deliberate sense of self-perpetuated othering to keep people trapped in the organization and feeling like they can't trust "the world" - they're only safe and understood and accepted within the confines of this very specific and unattractive in-group who have all been messed up in the same ways they are.

but like, as much as the statistics show that Mormons don't actually get many new converts for the amount of money and resources they spend on missionary efforts (and thus have to focus on long-term retention through the above methods, and also compelling their members to have a dozen kids who will grow up Mormon, in order to grow/maintain the church's numbers), some outsiders DO join, and some members who are more resistant to the feelings of isolation DO remain in the church out of a sincere belief that it makes them happier and more fulfilled. so like, what's up with THOSE people? how do they convince themselves this horrible restrictive lifestyle that cuts them off emotionally from the rest of society is what they actually want?

well, I'm sure there are a lot of deeper psychological factors that vary between individuals, but if you think about good old-fashioned Puritans and why THEY were so focused on the constant denial of basic earthly pleasures, you can get a little insight into this. from what I've figured out in the years since I left, a lot of this religion's supposed emotional benefits boil down to moral relativism.

most people want to feel like they're a good person, and some people have a really hard time feeling like they're a good person unless they have someone who is "worse" than them to compare themselves to. a lot of Christianity in general runs on this - the more evangelical or puritanical a sect is, the more you hear them speaking dismissively of outsiders and nonbelievers and heathens, and sometimes even talking about "purity" (ew). Granny Baker down the street could be the sweetest kindest old lady who volunteers at the food bank every Tuesday, but if she's not an avid churchgoer, especially in your particular chosen denomination, then she's still inferior to you in some meaningless intangible way and you get to feel like you're special for doing nothing. that's pretty much it! Christianity for a lot of people is just about getting to feel better about yourself without needing to improve in any actual substantial ways. you read your special book, say your prayers, sit in a church for an hour every week, never ever think any gay thoughts, and boom! you're "righteous" and god loves you, so who cares if Granny Baker thinks you're kind of a judgy asshole.

Mormons, though, take this to the next level. it's ALL about moral escalation, baby. it's not good enough to just do the basic Christian stuff - you need to prove you've joined GOD'S ONE TRUE RELIGION by being even more holy and special than any other Christians, too! they think drinking is frowned upon? well not only do Mormons NEVER drink or smoke or do drugs, they don't drink coffee or tea either! regular Christians go to church for an hour every Sunday? Mormons go for 2-3 hours, plus potentially some extra meetings if they have additional responsibilities in some kind of council or whatever, PLUS all kinds of other shit during the week to make sure they're in the church as often as possible. PLUS adult Mormons are supposed to attend several-hour ordinance sessions at a temple (those bigger fancier pointier churches that nonmembers can't enter, where all the REALLY cult-y looking stuff goes on) as frequently as they're able. regular Christians (if they're kinda old-fashioned) try not to work on Sundays? Mormons aren't supposed to do ANYTHING on Sundays besides church stuff. don't buy things, don't do schoolwork, don't go to the movies, don't listen to music that's "irreverent", etc etc... at EVERY level of this lifestyle your priority is to make sure you're extra special and holy and living a more devoted life than anyone else so you never have to question if they're more kind or benevolent or accepting or, y'know, actually Christlike than you. you follow all your little arbitrary extra rules and thus win a game that nobody else is playing.

something especially funny that non-Mormons may notice is that SOME Mormons take it EVEN FURTHER, too. not content to just do the bare minimum as set forth by the church's many councils of wrinkly businessmen in Utah, they make up ADDITIONAL personal rules for their family to live by, so they can be extra sure they never step anywhere CLOSE to being morally inferior to anyone. this is why you may have met Mormons who also say they don't drink cola or caffeinated soda or any soda at all, or who don't play video games on Sundays, or who not only don't swear but don't even say substitutes like "crap" and "dang it" and "freaking". (hey guess what! I was all of these at one point! my parents gave up on that last one after a while tho lol.)

they'll often tell you these extra house rules are part of their religion too, even though they're technically not in the books anywhere... and in a way they're not wrong, because that IS largely what Mormonism is about on a cultural level. you don't have to care about being homophobic or racist or uncharitable or various other things that come with essentially just being a Utah Republican But As A Religion, because every week you get to go to a place that praises and affirms you for being better and smarter than everyone else by following all the special little secret arbitrary rules that make you Morally Invincible and immune to anyone else's judgment.

so how does this tie into why people find the church interesting and want to join/stay? well of course, a desire to always win your internal comparisons against others goes hand-in-hand with a desire to be privy to secrets and tricks and obscure knowledge that others aren't. it's not just that Mormon beliefs can make you feel righteous - they ALSO make you feel smarter than all the other dumbasses out there who couldn't figure out that literally all you need to do to be happy is Stop Drinking Coffee and also Give 10% Of Your Income To An Organization With A $100 Billion Stock Portfolio. they entice you with the promise of teaching you stuff that everyone else is apparently just too dense to comprehend, and make you feel clever and special for recognizing the Truth. it's not just a social in-group you're being invited into, it's an EXCLUSIVE CLUB full of SECRET KNOWLEDGE with HIGH STANDARDS and only SMART COOL PEOPLE get to join! if you're going through some rough times or your self-esteem is low or you feel vaguely guilty about your life and don't know how to feel better, you are a lot more likely to be ensnared by what they promise you. (trust me! when I was a missionary they literally trained us to ask questions that would help us efficiently target those people!) and then before you know it, you're isolated inside that ecosystem, normal people find you intimidating and weird, it's hard to get back out, and the church won't leave you alone if you do. oops! aren't cults fun?

[jinxedmuse]

secret dating idol!svt — 95z line, & if you guys get caught

authors note: idk this just seemed fun! i wanna release a one shot for another member but i’m stuck between which one ;-; so for now we have this plz enjoy!!!

warnings: uhm reader is famous but it fluctuates between each member (ie: actor, idol, etc)? , should be gender neutral but tbh may (???) come off as fem.

choi seungcheol

probably another idol (+ leader) he liked how you managed your group and definitely gives off the vibe he’d approach first if he was really interested.. which thankfully, he was!

dates (although rare bcs ur both busy taking care of ur children, ie: team members lol) definitely consist of: driving around the very low-key parts of seoul, pre reserved dinners at extremely exclusive restaurants, weekend golf dates at elite and selective country clubs (with matching outfits), and obviously going over his place to sleep in and play w/ kkuma!

surprises you with gifts every time you can meet! or, he’ll just have it directly ordered to your place. definitely have an over flow of couple items like that man is as obvious as can be without completely blowing the lid over??

he wants matching couple rings sooo bad but he knows that svt is known for their pinky rings & people would immediately notice if he had another one that he suspiciously never took off.. hm? so he’d opt for matching sweat suits (ie: hoodie/sweatpants sets/athletic sets/lounge sets etc). he’d buy you the gray ver of his all black adidas sweatsuit and everyone would be like.. wait a min? but also can’t pin point if they’re overthinking it (hint: they’re not ;)

when things get serious, and they most likely will, he’s probably the best long term partner ever.

yes, he’s a man at the end of the day so obviously he’d wanna have fun and we do not know him outside svt content BUT i feel like he already has so much responsibilities to bare and he’s too busy to even be dating but he chose to! with you! because he likes (dare i say loves) you a lot! so why would he wanna waste his precious time that he barely has??

definitely gets matching tattoos with you somewhere down the line. i feel like if you guys were like YEARS into it , parents have met, etc etc then he’d get your initials on his ring finger or somewhere on his back or along his neck :(

at this point, dispatch has a wholeeee book on you guys. definitely planning to expose y’all as the new years couple but you know hybe is swimming in money so they paid them off and saved your asses! aka, you don’t get caught.

lucky you!

yoon jeonghan

probably dating a idol or well known model. either way, you’re both known for your otherworldly visuals! you guys met at a exclusive ysl event/after party and he asked his manager to talk to your manager and boom! things went off.

dates are actually pretty regular. don’t get me wrong, you both have pretty hectic schedules, and yours are pretty random because you never know which city you need to be in next but since you both don’t like doing as much interviews/variety shows as your counterparts, you use that time on dates!

you guys reserve 1- sometimes 2 hour tours at those interactive park places (where you can hold/feel animals etc) and takes lots of pictures for each other (which means matching lovestagram!!!) , you guys go on secretive sauna dates to catch up on your work weeks, and hang out at each other’s apartment while eating your fav food at odd hours lol!

LOVEEE couple items! matching lego sets, pet rocks, any new jewelry he gets, especially if it’s a bracelet, he buys another one for you and you guys wear them 24/7 like seriously it doesn’t come off! would probably even get the cartier love bracelet if he wasn’t so dedicated to ysl…

fans are saurrrrrr suspicious because like.. is he even trying to be subtle or are they just making it up in their head??? svt would be playing the character quiz and you’d come up and his brain would literally malfunction like all he can do is smile and apologize for “getting you wrong” while the rest of the members are trying to (not so) swiftly move on.. yeah!

you guys are definitely the on and off type! nothing toxic just every time you both get genuinely TOO busy you’d cool off from each other and bounce back like nothing happened.

i feel like he’d want something long term but wouldn’t be too set on marriage? idk, if you guys did end it wouldn’t be on a bad note and you’d both just play it off (to the public) as if you were always “just” friends but bffr.. anyway!

you guys wouldn’t necessarily get exposed by dispatch/a news outlet but both your fandoms would like low-key know you had something going on and respect that privacy.

joshua hong

i can see him dating a gorgeous high class actor/actress. you guys meet at an award show and slowly got to know each other before comfortably settling into a relationship.

dates are superrr frequent, even your personal managers are shocked because damnn that devotion? you guys already told them that any free time you have in your bustling scheduals go to each other. very cute.

dates are very spontaneous and depend on where you are. believe it or not most dates are at home and consist of you laying your head in his lap as he makes bracelets and you revising your lines. (as with ll the boys) you get backstage concert privilege with kisses between sets and he visits you on set with coffee trucks for everyone and your fav pick me up snack if you're feeling down during filming.

couple items are very low-key! he's known for his handmade jewelry so he'll give you one or two but anymore will land ya'll in the mouse trap. so the more intimate matching things never see the light of day.

fans start getting suspicious when they realize that all the films or dramas he's been recommending lately have you in it but he just plays it off that he's been getting interested in more films during his down time and you became his favorite actress/tor .. right! also you suddenly keep singing seventeen songs (his parts) in your behind the scenes and they're just like..? okay maybe you just really go into seventeen outta no where.. whatever that means!

you both are very private people by nature so you guys leave 0 trace behind when planning dates etc like everyone is signing NDA's lol! so dispatch (and your fans) may have a feeling, but they have no proof.

does have marriage in mind for the long run but you guys would date for a longgggg time before that like 5+ years. would probably announce it randomly after you guys are satisfied with your career and respected enough to the point people don't throw a fuss but are genuinely happy for you. ya'll end up nicknamed: the nations unexpected but ultimate visual couple, for sure!

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

[x-just-another-fanfic-writer-x]

The Neighbour Down The Hall

Chapter 1

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Summary: Your first meeting with your new (ish) neighbour

Word count: 1k

AO3

You expected there to be some teething problems when you moved in with your boyfriend of 2 years. A few arguments here and there. Clashes about what to watch on TV, what to have for dinner. What you didn’t expect was the amount of tears you would shed, nor the almost break ups. And you definitely didn’t expect to become responsible for the amount of chores you found yourself doing on a daily basis. You always cleaned up after him, did his laundry, his dishes, made sure he remembered to pay bills on time. For six months this had been going on, and the resentment was quickly building up inside. You sometimes felt more like his mother than his girlfriend, not that he seemed to notice.

Today’s issue was the new gaming chair he’d ordered, which he was conveniently out for its delivery. You walked into your apartment complex to find the box dumped in the lobby. 

“It’s literally just a lift ride away… lazy arsehole,” you muttered as you dragged the box towards the lift. You pressed the button and waited, tapping your fingers on the box. A long minute later, there was still no lift in sight. You pressed it again, and again, but the button didn't even light up. 

You tutted. “Typical” you muttered. So that’s why the delivery guy dumped it there. You groaned in frustration, mentally preparing yourself to haul the thing up to your floor. For the first couple of flights of stairs you tried to push it up from the bottom, ‘proper lifting’ be damned. But your legs began to burn, especially after your leg workout that morning, so you changed tactics for the last flight. You grabbed the sides of the box and decided to pull, one step at a time. You almost made it to the top when you spotted a tall figure behind you, startling you. The box slipped from your grasp and toppled forward.

“Shit!” you hissed. You watched on with horror, muscles tensed as you braced for the impact. The box crashed down the stairs, the sound echoing in the stairwell until it fell to the bottom with a loud thump. You took a deep breath to calm yourself. This is fine. You can just drag it back up again. It’s only one flight. You opened your eyes and saw the man silently walking past. You recognised him now; he moved in a couple of weeks ago.

“Lemme get that for you,” he grumbled. He's American? You opened your mouth to protest but promptly shut it. He did look much stronger than you, a little intimidating actually. The dark haired man picked up the box as if it weighed nothing, and carried it up to your floor. You muttered an awkward thanks as he walked past. He kicked open the door to the corridor then placed the package outside your flat before he turned to leave, back down the stairs. You cleared your throat before saying a louder thank you towards his back.

“Don’t mention it,” he called back, not even turning to look at you as the door to the stairway closed behind him.

You unlocked your door and dragged the stupid box inside, leaving it unceremoniously in the middle of the room for your boyfriend to deal with later. You kicked your shoes off then sat down on the sofa to relax until he got home. He found it funny you dropped the thing in front of your new neighbour. Took the piss out of you repeatedly as you cooked dinner, playfully warning you not to drop anything else. So out of spite, you refused to help him with the chair later that evening. That was until you realised you wouldn’t get any sleep until it was done and he was getting so pissed off trying to assemble the thing, he was keeping you up. 

The next day you headed out early for your morning gym routine. You loathed early starts, waking up with the sun, but it was the only time of the day you had to yourself. Between work, your partner, your friends, and family, it felt like life was slipping by. Like you were merely a passenger, existing for others. But the morning hours were your hours. You were still half asleep when you pushed the button for the lift and waited for a really long time.

“I don’t think it’s working,” a male voice said. You turned to see your neighbour standing in his doorway and it dawned on you. God you’re an idiot.

“Oh yeah, I remember,” you muttered, embarrassed. He nodded, then stepped back into his apartment, closing the door gently. You hoped he didn’t go back inside to avoid walking down the stairs with you…

That thought was on your mind during your whole gym session. One of the perks of the apartment complex was the in house gym. It may be on the smaller side, but it made it much easier to fit in a gym session 5 days a week. You smashed through your arm workout and spent an extra 10 minutes on the rowing machine. The sweat was dripping from you when you left and decided to jog back up three flights of stairs for extra cardio.

You pushed open the door to your floor, but suddenly the resistance disappeared. You couldn't pull back from the momentum, and you fell forward straight into the chest of a man. You looked up. Not him again. 

You suddenly felt very self conscious, his hands were touching your bare sweaty arms as he set you upright.

"Sorry I didn't, umm-" you stuttered, stepping back from him as he dropped his hands to his sides. Bloody hell his eyes were blue.

"It's fine," he murmured as he stalked past you.

Those blue eyes and a sense of embarrassment from him touching you was on your mind as you got ready for the day. Your boyfriend still wasn't awake by the time you were ready to go. You gave him a chaste kiss on the forehead, then left. As you commuted to work, you wondered what your neighbour might be up to.

Next chapter

[tracycloud]

COOKING FOR ROBERTA (part 2)

PART 2

Roberta had spotted me a few months earlier at Café Ravenna, where I worked as a kitchen assistant and waitress. She was a regular guest in this small restaurant owned by Erika and Giovanni, an elderly German-Italian couple who were constantly arguing. They alternated between German and Italian cuisine, ignoring the menu posted outside.

The regulars didn't care at all. Most of them ate Erika's ragu Bolognese or Lasagne al Forno just as enthusiastically as they loved Giovanni's crispy roast pork with dumplings or his thick bean soup with bacon and sausages. I never managed to find out why Giovanni, of all people, was so fond of German cuisine. Maybe an answer to the dominance of his mother from Emilia-Romagna, from whom Erika had learned all her culinary skills

Café Ravenna was open seven days a week, from morning to night, because the owners felt a great responsibility for their guests and feared that without their care they might go hungry or, even worse, be forced to eat fast food.

The middle-sized town where the “Ravenna” was located,  is best known for its art college, to which I had just applied in vain.  It said: “Rejected for lack of perspective talent”.

My divorced parents, as much as they hated each other and never saw eye to eye, would both triumph over this.

That´s why I decided to just stay and try again the next year.

The unimpressive cardboard sign: “Temporary help wanted for kitchen and restaurant” was already a bit faded. Erica and Giovanni  hired me on a trial basis. I showed surprising talent in the kitchen, brought food and drinks to the guests without any spills and didn't complain about the working hours.

Roberta was something special. In terms of age, she could have been my older sister. Roberta only came when Erika was cooking. She was always solo, friendly but distant. I noticed how she sometimes looked at me when I served her. I also have a thing for girls and could read her eyes.

But she was still just a guest - until the moment she praised the Ribollita, a thick Tuscan soup made from white beans, kale, leeks, carrots, celery, tomatoes, parmesan and bread.

Giovanni pointed at me: “Our little girl here cooked this”. I was proud and blushed a little when Roberta looked at me intensely and applauded.

A few weeks later, Giovanni asked me if I wanted to cook for Roberta's birthday. The next day, which was actually my day off, and at her house. She would pay me for it and he mentioned a sum that I could make good use of, as I was chronically broke.

She wouldn't take me shopping, but I would just turn up at her door in the early afternoon and cook what she had bought.

I had a bit of stage fright as I stood in front of the weathered wooden door of the old house. It was still summer, the garden was wild, natural, full of herbs, wild flowers, bushes, meadow grass, humming everywhere.

Roberta opened the door. For the first time, she was no longer a guest to me, but a beautiful, desirable woman. She was taller than me, with short blonde hair, wearing a light, green-spotted, casual summer dress that emphasized her boobs.

I must have stared at them for a few seconds too long. I don't have much to stare at when it comes to my own boobs, but I immediately thought about how it would feel if her stiff nipples rubbed against mine. She pretended not to notice my horny stares and walked into the house ahead of me.

 I congratulated her on her birthday, of course, and presented her with a small, very feminine clay figurine that I had modeled and glazed myself as a piece of work for the entrance exam. Roberta placed the figurine with a friendly smile next to other slightly dusty odds and ends - where it still stands today.

She lived in a rare mélange of furniture and paintings from all stylistic periods of the 20th century.  In the kitchen, fans of old cooking utensils would have been thrilled.

As we toasted each other with a cool white wine, I asked: “What would I even cook?”  Roberta pointed to the kitchen table, full of tomatoes, vegetables, fragrant herbs, ripe Parmesan, different types of pasta, olive oil, balsamic vinegar and buffalo butter. There was much more in the fridge.

“I'll leave that to you. Just surprise me”.

 “Ohhh, really? Ok. Why not.  And when are the guests arriving?”

 She grinned at me: “No guests are coming, my little one.  You're just cooking for me. And if you want, you're invited to try your own creations”.

I was quite taken aback, but after all, I was paid to cook and not by the number of guests. I decided to use the vegetables to make a range of hot and cold starters, culminating in a real “Ragu Bolognese” because had just learned this from Erika.  I was curious to see how Roberta would like it.

 Later I was so busy that I didn't notice her looking over my shoulder at first. When I felt the warmth of her body and the light touch on my back, I involuntarily pressed my bottom against her and felt her return the pressure. I started to rub myself against her, continuing to slice the tomatoes, then felt her breath on my neck and the pressure of her boobies against my back. I moaned softly as she whispered in my ear: “My little girl, don't say anything”. Then she slowly inserted her tongue into my ear and her hands felt my stiff nipples through the T-shirt and the wafer-thin bra.

I was getting wet now, moaning louder, supporting myself with my hands on the worktable, crushing the ripe tomatoes, my vulva pressed against the worktop. Roberta's hands were now under my shirt, fumbling my boobs out of my bra, massaging them, squeezing my nipples.

Roberta could feel me giving myself completely to her now. Her right hand unbuttoned my jeans, slipped into my panties and explored my wetness. I involuntarily spread my legs. She penetrated me deeply with two fingers. I began to move rhythmically against her fingers.

 “It's so beautiful how horny and submissive you are, my little cooking whore,” I heard her whisper.  Suddenly I could no longer feel her hands or her breath on my neck. Now she was standing in front of me, looking at me closely.

I stood with my legs still spread wide apart on the table, my jeans open, my wet panties barely covering my vulva, tomato juice dripping onto the floor, my T-shirt pushed up, my boobs hanging out of my bra, my face feeling hot, drops of sweat running down my face.

 “You're so cute the way you're standing there, my little submissive cooking slut. You know, I always dreamed about this when I watched you at the Ravenna. To spot and feel you here. You're a wonderful young woman, independent, clever, you're going to be a great cook and you're so wonderfully submissive. I sense you are yearning to be submissive and to be fucked by a strong woman.”

She leaned over the table, gave me a kiss on my sweaty forehead and walked out. “Go on cooking now, my little kitchen slut. I'm already looking forward to your delicacies.”

 Slowly I slipped back into reality. I had never experienced anything so hot and beautiful with a woman. The kitchen had now become a magical, wonderful space. The kitchen utensils became friends now who helped me to achieve my first great performance as a cook for Roberta.

[warpweftandwar]

For years I have only even lurked on social media. Reddit, Instagram, Facebook and TickTok. I never had desires beyond watching, though the ADHD rejection sensitivity also came into play. Imagining someone arguing with me, mocking me, or simply recognizing my presence would set off my fight or flight response.

Six months ago I met a Syrian man, Ahmed, who was broadcasting a TikTok live. He lived in a camp for people who had lost their homes during the war and spent his days on TikTok giving out food to the hungry children of the camp, while soliciting donations for future meals.

Initially believing this to be a scam, I took to Google, only to find a BBC article discussing this exact situation: Syrians displaced from the homes during the war, no humanitarian aid, no employment opportunities, but working with a TikTok middle man who gave them phones to broadcast from. TikTok supported this unofficial program because, for every monetary gift the creator received, TikTok kept 70% of the donation, releasing only 30% to the account holder. Great money making deal for TikTok!

Now, I can feel you rolling your eyes in disbelief at my naivety. If I heard someone else telling this story, I’d react the same way. Over time, Ahmed and I became good friends. We speak every day, share our family stories, check in on each other, and learn about the cultural differences in our lives. After 6 months of these conversations, speaking with his family and fact checking their experiences in the war (city, dates of displacement, locating their former home on Google maps) I trust these people completely.

These people have fully accepted me into their life, and I consider them true family. Let me tell you who they are…

Ahmed is 29 years old. He is who I first saw on the broadcast. He has a wife and 2 children. He lives in a large tent, hot in the summer, cold in the winter. They have a small portable gas stove, a wood stove during the winter (which burns hazelnut shells as fuel) and frequently cook their meals outside over open fire, as this is a cheaper alternative to gas for the stove.

He lives next to his younger brother, Bassam, who is also married and expecting a baby boy soon. They all have the same tent setup, each with their own wood stove, but sharing the cooking supplies and other living essentials.

Ahmed and Bassam both live next to their parents, 2 teenage brothers and 1 teenage sister. They also have 3 sisters who have married and live in other camps with their husbands’ family.

This extended family has all lived in this camp for around 8 years now. They fled their home in the midst of a battle between the Syrian regime and rebel militias who each wanted to control the area, integral to the success of either side. They saw nightmarish scenes as they ran; bodies of the dead and injured all around them. They took nothing with them as they ran. Ahmed says, “We escaped with only our souls.”

For 6 months I’ve been sending Ahmed and his family money every 2 weeks, through Western Union, since TikTok takes an excessive amount. Western Union and PayPal don‘t allow direct transfer to anyone in Syria due to the US sanctions, however there is a community of generous people in Turkey who will pickup the transferred money and meet with Ahmed to give him cash. And yes, I have confirmed that he receives the money every time.

Ahmed used to make some relatively decent money on his TikTok videos, however overtime the algorithm changed. It started banning his accounts, or simply hiding them from viewers. Donations dwindled down to nearly nothing and he can no longer feed the children of the camp, or his own family.

The money I send provides breathing room for survival, though not to a level of comfort. Food is meager, usually a breakfast off bread, olive oil and za’atar. Lunch is a larger meal of soup and bread, and dinner is sometimes, often, skipped. Meat of any kind is a rare treat, usually lamb or chicken. Eggplant, tomatoes, bread, fava beans, lentils, rice, pickles, and fresh mild green peppers.

So, welcome to my family! I hope you’ll stick around to hear more about them, their lives, and the challenges they face in a war ravaged country.

[korrasamibottles]

Year-End Writer's Roundup: 2024 edition

Thank for tagging me @sweetorangepoptart !! I'm not sure who's been tagged so @ any and all writers who see this and want to participate, consider yourself tagged!!

1. Words written (published or not, WIPs totally count too!!):

18,083?? I can't believe I did that. I can't believe that came out of me. Sounds fake. Also one fic is responsible for like two thirds of that, which also sounds fake.

2. Smut scenes:

Just one, in my Korrasami Week fic Love Bites (So Do I)

3. New things I tried:

Mmm I wrote an AU? Sometimes I have trouble getting into AUs as a reader because I end up missing the established universe, so I never envisioned myself writing one, but that's the fic that wanted to be written! It was a challenge to make the characters feel like themselves (if their personality is molded by their environment and life experiences, and then that environment and set of experiences is tweaked, what happens??) and also make the world feel Legend of Korra-inspired rather than exactly like the real world as it exists except with people named Korra and Asami (not that that's a bad way for an AU to be—it's just not how I wanted this one to be).

I don't want to spoil anything, but there are a number of little details sprinkled in that I hope make the fic feel somewhat rooted in-universe even though it isn't. Anyway overall I'm pretty happy with how it turned out? If I had endless patience I might've continued adjusting things, but uhh I don't lmao.

4. Fic I spent the most time on:

Love Bites for sure. It ended up being over twice as long as every other fic I've written, and I'm still shocked by that. I did not think I had 12,438 words in me. (And I almost didn't because I wanted to quit like a dozen times shhh🤫)

5. Fic I spent the least time on:

The Space Between Heartbeats, but not because I didn't care!! Turns out it's just way easier to keep the word count lower and tie everything up relatively quickly (for me. lol. takes me a while to write anything) when it's set in-universe and there isn't any extra world-building to figure out.

6. Favorite thing I wrote: 

You would have me choose❓️🥺 I can't. The two fics I finished are so different from one another, but they're both precious to me and I'm happy with the way they turned out.

7. Favorite thing I read:

Can I tag everyone who participated in Korrasami Week? I've started going through the Korrasami Week Collection on ao3 and there's so much talent in this fandom it's crazy. Shout out to @appalesbian @ozais-lobotomist @kingwuko @madlad-link for writing things that drove me absolutely bonkers.

I also fell hard and fast into Velcinta Madness after watching Andor earlier this year and subsequently spent weeks groaning in agony and rending my clothing (many such cases!) so I want to mention what a knife measures. It packs a powerful punch into a quick read and is beautifully written, as sharp as the title suggests, and has the kind of character dynamics that make me want to pull my hair out (complimentary). I love it.

8. Writing goals for next year: 

Specific goals: Wuko Week approaches......I have a doughy lump of an idea currently rising in a warm, humid location, and soon it will be time to put it in the oven. I also think I can loosely tie it in with an older Korrasami wip (which I really want to finish. and it rhymes with shmibrator shmic.) but I don't want to make any promises because fics always take on a mind of their own at some point and things change. I'm also tempted to try writing something Velcinta-related but idk. Participating in a new fandom is always intimidating. We'll see.

Non-specific goals: I really want to reach a point where my recurring perfectionism/shame-induced writer's block no longer gets the better of me👍

[tortoisewithoutashell]

Dancing with Shadows: Chapter 3

Chapter 2: https://www.tumblr.com/tortoisewithoutashell/769313060765810689/dancing-with-shadows-chapter-2?source=share

Hi William,

Thank you for reaching out! Ballet is difficult; sometimes I wish I had decided to become an electrician or something that wouldn't wear on me so much. I think I’m having a mental breakdown—this profession sucks! My instructor is making me take time off to get my head in the game, and I cried in his office like a baby! Imagine that, a 23-year-old man crying in his boss's office!

Steve rubbed his eyes with his knuckles and pressed the delete button. Don’t overshare in your first message, you freak! You’re going to scare him away! He leaned back in his chair and thought about what he loved most about his job.

Hi William,

There are many things I love about this art form: when I try for ages to get something and it finally clicks, seeing my maître smile after doing a routine a million times and being finally happy with it, doing my makeup backstage, the backstage camaraderie during a performance, hearing people call my dancing 'beautiful', and the way the sun shines through the window of our studio on a summer’s day.

Tell me more about surfing. How long have you been doing it?

I’ve never been to California.

Steve felt satisfied with this response; he sounded normal, less like a crazed lunatic than in his first message. He pressed the send button and shut down his desktop. Needing a walk, he called Robin.

**

Robin came bounding down the street with a cup of coffee in each hand. How she wasn’t spilling them onto the concrete was a mystery, but so was Robin. They had met when Steve first moved to New York. She was one of the most elegant dancers he’d ever met, but off stage, she was somehow the clumsiest person. The juxtaposition of man, Steve supposed. Once she reached him, she put her arms out for a hug, but Steve feared being burned by the hot drinks, so he backed away. “Put the coffees down, Jesus, Robin!” Steve exclaimed before he grabbed one of the cups, and gave her a quick side hug.

“How come you complain when I’m mean to you and also when I’m nice?” she rolled her eyes, and they began walking. “I ran into Vickie last week,” Robin sighed, her shoulders slumping. “She told me that she’s seeing someone—a blonde.” The word "blonde" came out with a venomous bite. Steve nodded along, careful with his words. Robin had been chasing Vickie for years, but he was always too afraid to tell her to give it up; he was exhausted from constantly talking about her.“Well, maybe it's time to move on,” he said under his breath, and Robin smacked his shoulder. “People who’ve had 1 failed high school relationship, and haven’t dated since should not be giving others love advice. ” Robin rolled her eyes for what seemed like the hundredth time in 15 minutes and picked up her pace. She wasn’t upset with him, but she sure was good at faking it.  He kept a couple of paces back; they hadn’t talked about Eddie in a while, and he was kind of shocked that Robin had even mentioned him—even if not by name—she knew he was a sore spot for Steve.  She quickly turned around when she noticed that Steve was no longer beside her and stopped to wait for him to catch up. “I’m sorry, that was mean. I know what happened with Eddie wasn’t—er—ideal.” Steve shrugged; no harm was truly done. Sticks and stones. 

Robin threw her empty coffee cup in a nearby trash can and clapped her hands together quite loudly. How did she drink her coffee so quickly between her constant talking? Steve had no idea how she managed that. Before he could ask, a devious grin appeared on her face. “So you remember Nancy Wheeler?” Steve’s eyebrows raised.

How could he forget Ballet darling Nancy Wheeler, the next best thing since Galina Ulanova had graced the stage! “She asked about you!” Robin exclaimed gleefully.  Steve’s face went red. “What do you mean she asked about me?” He was dumbfounded; how did Nancy Wheeler know who he was?

His studio wasn’t unknown per se, but it's not like he was one of the more well-known dancers in it. “I don’t know; I went to this party this past weekend, and a bunch of dancers were there. I was talking about you, and she pulled me aside and asked me for your number. It was insane! I mean, she could have any guy in New York, maybe even the country, but she’s interested in you—” Robin froze for a second. “No offense.” She studied Steve’s face quickly to make sure he wasn't actually offended before continuing, “I know you typically date men, and you lean more towards men, but at the end of the day, you’re bisexual, and I don’t know, I sort of maybe kind of gave her your number.” 

Steve stopped in his tracks. Nancy Wheeler knew who he was and had his number. No fucking way.

**

It’s not that Steve had expected Nancy to call, but he had kind of, sort of gotten his hopes up and anticipated her call. He kept glancing at his phone every five minutes to ensure he wouldn’t miss it! It was excruciating! Without ballet in his life, he had nothing to distract him from his thoughts. He tried watching a movie, he tried playing a video game, and he even tried both at the same time, but nothing worked. He couldn’t rely on Robin either because she had the studio, and yearning for Vickie took up a lot of her time too. He scrolled through their most recent messages: 

Robin: I never thought this day would come, but I miss you at the studio; Luc is driving me nuts!  

Steve: Lol, what’s going on?  

Robin: I wanna try something new for Arabian Princess, but he’s all like, “No, tradition is tradition!” Tradition, my ass!!�� 

Steve: If you didn’t like tradition, you should’ve done hip-hop.  

Robin: Never mind, I don’t miss you! 

He needed a hobby. It had been a week since Robin told him about her conversation with Nancy. He’d made sure his phone was always charged, which was usually a difficult thing for him. God, he was so pathetic and so starved for affection that when some girl he’d never met showed a little interest, he lost his mind. He was currently lying on his bed, trying to figure out how he would spend his day. He was supposed to spend this month finding inspiration, but he had found none; in fact, he wasn’t even sure where he should start! He stared off into space and got lost in his thoughts, then his desktop lit up and made a pinging noise. He had received new ballet slippers and was hoping they had been delivered. He walked over to his desk, sat down on his mahogany chair, and opened his mail app, but instead of seeing a delivery email from Move Dancewear, it was a message from the pen pal website. He had completely forgotten about it.

Subject: Sorry  

From: WilliamH1999  

Message: Hey dude, I totally apologize for taking so long to respond. I help take care of my little sister, Maxine, and it was the last week of the school year, and it’s been hectic. I’ve been driving her everywhere and helping her with her end-of-the-year projects. Ballet sounds awesome; I can tell that you love it.  

I love catching a wave; it’s the most addicting feeling in the world!  

I’ve always loved the water. My mom and I would go to the beach all the time when I was a kid. She’s actually the person who taught me how to surf. I've tried to teach Maxine, but she’s a skater girl through and through.  

P.S. I kind of went down the ballet rabbit hole online. I learned that it’s Nutcracker season, which is a crazy time for ballerinas!  

I hope you’re holding up!  

Holy shit, Steve thought. William had responded and very thoughtfully too. Should he wait to reply? He didn’t want to come off as desperate, but he was also so bored and frankly had nothing better to do. Oh well, forget it! If William found it weird, then he wasn't the pen pal for Steve.  

Hey William, no problem! Family comes first!  

Oh Jesus, Steve, could you get any more corny? He hit the backspace and started over. Be normal.  

Hey bro, I totally understand. I used to babysit for extra cash back home, and I know that kids can be a handful. This one kid, Dustin, talked a mile a minute! But somehow, I miss him, lol.  

Maxine sounds badass; any skater girl is a cool girl in my mind.  

I’ll tell you an embarrassing secret: I don’t know how to swim; I like having both feet on the ground at all times. That and I’ve dedicated my entire life to ballet and have been doing it since I was three, and never picked up any other skills. Although freshman year, I begged my parents to learn the drums, and I took about three lessons before my mom forced me to quit. I guess the drums weren’t “proper” enough for my mom. It didn’t fit the image of our family.

Was that too personal? Steve didn’t care; he kept typing. It felt good to express his feelings.  

My cousin left home when he was 18 and cut off all contact. We haven’t heard from him in years! To be honest, I’m kind of jealous of him.  

No nutcracker for me this year (I’m being punished), which feels really weird because I’ve participated in the nutcracker every year since I was 8. It feels strange to take this much time off from ballet; the last time I did was in middle school when I twisted my ankle. I genuinely thought my career was over. Silly me!  

I’m going to assume you were born and raised in California?  

Tell me more about that!  

Steve pressed the send button and then started to panic. Shit! He had totally overshared in his message; what the heck was he thinking? William would probably not respond. Gosh, he should think about getting a therapist instead of oversharing with strangers on the internet. He put his head down on his desk and began mourning the loss of his pen pal. Then his desktop dinged. He shot his head up, and to his surprise, another message from Billy appeared.  

From: WilliamH1999  

That sucks, dude! You don’t live with your parents anymore, do you? You should start playing the drums. A ballerina-drummer combo would be badass; trust me! :)  

You should also take swim lessons; most YMCA’s offer them. I'm saying this because it could save your life one day; trust me on that too!  

Bummer about the Nutcracker! Hopefully, it’ll be back on next year, haha.  

Listen, Steve, I don’t know you well, and you don’t have to take my unsolicited advice, but you’ve got to be true to yourself, man. I used to be so afraid to be myself and so scared of my dad’s opinion, but you’ve got to live; at the end of the day, it's YOUR life. 

Steve’s jaw dropped; Billy didn’t think he was weird. He smiled at that, unable to contain his happiness. 

He Googled the YMCA closest to him and signed up for swim lessons. William was right, he had to live his life. 

[missywritesfor7]

❤️‍🩹Lifeline | MYG❤️‍🩹

Synopsis: It’s long been controversial for idols to date, but idols dating each other can be really beautiful or a complete nightmare. When Yoongi's relationship with another idol is discovered, he decides maybe it’s time to break the taboo and show people it’s ok for idols to date. Instead, they find themselves caught in the midst of one media frenzy after another and struggle to keep their relationship as strong as it had been the past 2 years. Yoongi finds a self destructive way to cope, and it causes even more problems than it solves. As they fight for their relationship and their careers, they discover that sometimes, the only way to truly be free is to let go.

Pairing: idol!Yoongi x idol!OC

Warnings: nsfw, alcoholism, cheating, depression, anxiety, Yoongi goes through a bisexy ho phase, Yoongi is also in his alcoholic phase, post-military BTS

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Ch. 28: The Last

Yoongi may not know where Hyeri is staying but he knows where she’s shooting. In the week since she’s been gone he’s sent her flowers twice, a basket of snacks, a coffee truck, and the cutest rainbow purse big enough to fit everything he knows she carries with her when she’s working. He’s also sent her texts daily expressing his love for her and how much he misses her. He tells her how his days are going, and at the end of each day he asks her to at least come home for Christmas. With the holiday coming up and still no response from her he’s afraid he may be spending it alone.

Hyeri has been wanting to respond to Yoongi but she hasn’t been able to bring herself to do so. The gifts are sweet and the coffee truck was perfect, but she still feels like she needs a bit more time. Between her loaded shooting schedule and her inability to find the words, she hasn’t said anything to him since she left.

Yoongi is thankful to have Minho to help him along while Hyeri is gone. He’s sure he would be buried 6 feet deep in insanity by now. He’s also found solace in their comeback schedule getting back on track. He and the guys have been busy and it keeps Yoongi from slipping deep into unhealthy thinking. Everything is great until he gets home at the end of the day and there’s nothing there. He feels like Hyeri’s scent is fading and that just makes the place feel even less like home.

There’s now only about a week left until Christmas and Hyeri still hasn’t said anything to Yoongi. Haeun has been scolding her daily because she knows it hurts Hyeri the longer she’s away from Yoongi. It definitely hurts Hyeri, but she’s not doing this to play some sadistic game of self torture, she’s doing it because she’s been scared into paralysis. A complete numbness that fools her into thinking she’s safe from feeling pain when in reality it’s cutting off the blood flow to a huge part of her that will shrivel up and die if she doesn’t take action soon enough. Hyeri is being fooled and hasn’t realized it yet. Haeun has.

Haeun’s methods of trying to get Hyeri to speak to Yoongi have been unsuccessful so far, so she gets a perfect idea while she and Hyeri are talking. They got into a conversation about shoes and Haeun boasting that she can do any dance in any type of shoes no matter how high or uncomfortable. Haeun has always been more of a sneakers type of person, but she knows Hyeri has an extensive collection of shoes, especially high heels. She takes this opportunity to make a bet with Hyeri; Hyeri will present her tallest most uncomfortable pair of heels and if Haeun can do a full routine in them she’ll grant whatever wish Hyeri wants.

The bet doesn’t matter to Haeun, but she gave Hyeri a reason to go home. She hopes just reentering their shared space may spark a bit of a fire in Hyeri to realize whether that’s a place she wants to return to or not. Haeun is convinced that Hyeri’s heart is with Yoongi and that’s where she should be, but Hyeri needs to realize that herself.

Just as Haeun wanted, Hyeri was hit with a wave of emotions when she returned home. She and Yoongi still know each other’s schedules through their shared calendar, so she chose to go at a time that she knew Yoongi would be away from home. As she heads toward the bedroom she can hear the shower running and her heart begins pounding.

What Hyeri didn’t know is that Yoongi’s schedule changed at the last minute. The guys were meant to be shooting an episode of Run BTS, but there was an electrical issue at the location they were meant to shoot at, so they rescheduled and the guys found themselves with the remainder of the day off. Yoongi hadn’t been home long, he and Jin stopped at a restaurant for lunch then both headed their separate ways. Yoongi got home and stepped in the shower to wash up, then found himself standing under the stream of water lost in thought.

He wishes Hyeri would speak to him. He just wants to know she’s doing ok. He wants to know how her days are going and if she’s eating well. He wants her back so bad. He feels like hes going mad as each day goes by. He can see her face when he walks into a room. He can hear her voice whispering to him at night. Even now he feels like he can see her quickly moving across the bathroom through the fogged glass shower door.

Hyeri peeked into the bathroom to see Yoongi’s fogged silhouette standing motionless under the water. She considered leaving and getting the shoes another time, but she didn’t want to have to try going through all of this again. She waited until she was convinced his eyes were closed and bolted through the bathroom straight to the closet. She knew which shoes she wanted to grab, now it’s just a matter of her finding the shoes in the dark since she can’t turn the light on for fear of being seen.

Yoongi’s eyes were not closed at all. His hallucination seemed a bit different than the other ghostlike sightings he’s been having in his head, it seemed a bit too real. He isn’t sure what he saw, but fearing that someone may have broken in, he goes defensive. He leaves the water running then quickly and quietly steps out of the shower. He wraps a towel around his waist and creeps toward the closet.

Hyeri can hardly see a thing so she tries to use her phone screen as a dim light to guide her. She knows the general area of where the shoes are, but she still has to sort through tons of shoeboxes to get to them. The first two boxes are a bust, the third is too but she sets it aside as a backup in case she doesn’t find the pair she’s actually looking for. Thankfully the 5th box has the pair she’s looking for. She quickly puts the other boxes back then grabs her haul and prepares to sprint her way back out. She turns towards the door then lets out a high pitched scream while dropping her phone and shoes at the shadow of a half naked Yoongi.

“Hyeri?” Yoongi says in disbelief. He turns the closet light on and confirms that he somehow managed to manifest her back home.

Hyeri can’t speak. The sight of a wet Yoongi wearing nothing but a towel that’s barely hanging on has her frozen solid. His loose dark curls hang in front of his face dripping an endless stream of water down his chest all the way to his belly button that sits just above his gray towel. She’s so stuck on his gorgeous body that she forgot where she was. Hell she doesn’t even know who she is right now.

“What are you doing?” Yoongi asks hoping the answer is anything along the lines of her coming back to stay.

“I-I um,” she sputters. “I’m-I just needed some shoes.” She quickly picks up her shoes and phone that she dropped.

“Oh,” Yoongi says disappointed. He can’t help but notice the shoes she has. They’re the one pair of shoes she has that gives her a height advantage over him. The shoes she’s only worn twice. With him. His chest aches at the thought of her wearing those shoes out with someone else. He needs to get her back.

“I’m going to go now,” Hyeri says trying to walk past Yoongi but he blocks her way. Her head is down and her eyes are on the floor. She can’t look at him without getting weak in the knees. She must resist.

“Hyeri, wait,” Yoongi says lifting her chin so their eyes can meet. “Talk to me, please. I don’t know what else I can say or do to get you to answer me, I just miss you so much. I love you and I’m so sorry for everything. Please come home. I just want to make it all up to you, baby. Anything you want I’ll do for you.”

“Yoongi,” she says softly. Her gaze goes back to the floor but she scans his entire body along the way. Why did she have to show up while he was in the shower?

“Please,” he begs. He cups her cheeks in his hands. “Christmas? If you don’t want to come back home, can you at least come for Christmas? I wanted to give you something.”

He looks like a sad puppy, and though Hyeri is trying to maintain the most stubborn levels of restraint, she can’t resist his pout.

“Ok,” she nods. “I’ll come for Christmas.”

It’s a small victory but it has Yoongi feeling pumped with optimism. Her agreement to at least spend Christmas with him spurs him into action to make sure what he gives her makes her want to stay. If he’s not working on anything with the group, then he’s working on her Christmas gift. He only has a week, but he has a lot of connections.

Haeun was happy to hear that Hyeri would be spending Christmas with Yoongi. Things are finally progressing and she hopes Hyeri will accept how she truly feels. Trust takes time to rebuild, but it can’t be done if she never speaks to him.

When the day came, Hyeri was nervous as she approached the front door of their apartment. She isn’t sure what to expect but she slowly opens the door and pokes her head in as if she were stepping into a stranger’s house. At first it almost looks like a stranger’s house. The entire place is decorated to look like a shimmering winter kingdom with the walls lined with sparkling garland, the light fixtures made to look like sparkling snowflakes floating through the sky. When she reaches the living room she sees that all of the furniture is gone and there only sits an all white grand piano in the middle of the room. There’s a vase of white roses atop the piano and the smell of something delicious coming from the kitchen.

“Hey,” Yoongi says coming out of the kitchen.

Hyeri turns and is taken by surprise by Yoongi dressed in an all white suit as if he’s about to go to the opera. She suddenly feels a bit underdressed in her light blue semi-casual dress.

“Hey,” she responds timidly.

“You look gorgeous,” he says walking towards her. He takes her hand making her blush from his missed touch. “I’m really glad you came. I know you still hate me, but I still wanted to give you the gifts I got for you, and if you want…I cooked too. Nothing fancy, just a little beef stew since it’s a bit cold out.”

“Yeah,” she nods already falling victim to the smell of his food. It’s late afternoon and she hasn’t eaten anything all day because she was so nervous about coming over.

“Great, it’s ready for you,” he smiles and guides her to the kitchen while still holding her hand that she hasn’t bothered to reclaim.

She takes a seat at the dining room table that he’s also decorated with a white tablecloth and more white roses. What used to be a more modern style black light fixture above the table has been switched out for a sparkling chandelier with crystal gems cascading down the entire fixture like icicles. She can tell he’s put in a lot of time and effort into this and she can’t figure out how he found the time or energy.

Yoongi serves her a bowl of stew and a glass of sparkling juice then has a seat across from her with his bowl and glass. Things start off quiet. Very quiet. Hyeri is trying to make it not seem so obvious that she’s enjoying the meal, but Yoongi knows her too well. He gets a boost of confidence seeing how quickly she’s eating.

“It’s ok,” he laughs. “I made plenty.”

“Right,” she blushes. “I just didn’t want to take too much of your time.” That’s a lie and she isn’t sure why she even said it. He’s no fool.

“Hyeri,” he says choosing to cut to the chase. “I know I’ve fucked up in the worst way and a day doesn’t go by when I don’t regret it. I love you so much. You know that. There’s no excuse that I can give to justify my cheating. There’s nothing I can say or do that will ever make up for that, but please give me the chance to prove to you that it will never happen again.”

Hyeri looks on while still shoveling spoonfuls of stew into her mouth. He looks pitiful. He also looks absolutely stunning. Why is he dressed in this white suit like he’s hosting a fancy holiday gala? She didn’t come here to give in to him, she came because he was begging her while he stood wet and naked in front of her.

Maybe she wants to give in a little. She told herself she would wait until New Year’s before giving in to him. She thought with her stressful schedule she would need that much time to feel confident in her decision to return home. She doesn’t fully trust herself to make the right choice. She’s made so many bad ones that she isn’t sure who she trusts least, Yoongi or herself. Regardless, she wants to give herself more time. What she will do now is let go of everything she’d been feeling these past few weeks.

She told him how painful it was to see people talking about being intimate with him when he’s only supposed to be with her. She had been trying to move forward from it, but then it was like it was being rubbed in her face. Like the world was taunting her for not knowing what he was doing. It’s humiliating to her and it made her question everything about their relationship. She doesn’t trust him and it hurts. She says a lot, but comes just short of saying whether she’ll return home of not.

Yoongi has exhausted every possible apology he could give. He feels like he has nothing left, so he tells her he wants to give her her gifts now. Everything he put together today is the last of everything he can give to get her to come back home. Everything else is up to her. He clears their bowls then returns with a few neatly wrapped presents. He places them in front of her and eagerly waits for her to open them up.

Hyeri starts with the smallest box. It looks like it’s possibly a necklace or bracelet. When she opens the box she’s surprised to see that it’s neither of those things. Instead there’s a heart shaped golden pocket watch with a small chain attached at the top. Engraved on the back is “until the end of time” in Yoongi’s handwriting. It’s sweet and a beautiful piece that makes Hyeri crack a small smile.

She sets the box aside and moves on to the largest box in front of her. It’s a tall rectangular box and when she opens it she reveals a pair of red thigh high boots. Ones she had fallen for after she saw them on a model during a fashion show she attended. As much as she loved the shoes, she felt like there was no way she would be able to pull off the look. Now she has a pair of her own that will be perfect during these colder months.

The next box isn’t as tall as her boots but a wider square box. Inside is an electric foot warmer and massager. One that’s top of the line with many features and functions to heal her aching feet after a long day on set. It’s something she’s wanted a long time but never got around to getting one for herself. Yoongi knew she had her eyes set on a foot massager so he got her the best one he could find.

Finally Hyeri picks up the last box. It’s only slightly bigger than the box with the pocket watch but it feels lighter. Inside is only a card with a handwritten letter from Yoongi.

For my love

I know things have been a rollercoaster

I’ve done things I regret

But when I’m with you I’m a better person

That I will never forget

As she continues to read on she realizes it’s not just a letter, but lyrics. She pauses and looks at Yoongi who’s still standing next to her. He holds his hand out inviting her to follow him.

Yoongi quietly takes Hyeri out to the living room where the grand piano awaits. He doesn’t say a word or make a sound which makes the silence seem so much louder to Hyeri. She stands by and watches him take a seat at the piano bench. He looks up at her a moment with a quiver in his eyes. His heart is beating out of his chest and he’s starting to sweat. There’s never been a performance that has made him so nervous in his life, but this one means the most.

He takes a deep breath and begins to play a light melody on the piano. This isn’t the same song he played her for her birthday. This song is completely new and makes Hyeri feel like she’s being swept away by a cloud. She instinctively closes her eyes and gently sways to the breezy sounds Yoongi is finessing out of the piano.

“For my love…” Yoongi begins singing.

Hyeri freezes at the sound of Yoongi’s voice ringing out. Writing a song for her is one thing, but she never expected him to start singing. He’s singing the lyrics written on the card he gifted her.

“I’ve done things I regret…”

Hyeri opens her eyes and watches Yoongi closely. She can see the emotion in his eyes. She can feel the rawness in his voice. His body sways more as he continues working the piano keys. What started as a gentle soft melody begins to gradually pick up intensity. Yoongi’s fingers hit the keys a little harder while his voice grows a little deeper.

“You’re the air I breathe…”

Hyeri can start to see him straining as if he were trying to hold back. The more he struggles, the harder he hits the keys. The melody grows louder and much more intense sending a rumble through Hyeri’s knees. The coarseness of his voice singing his love for her and vowing to be better brings tears to her eyes.

“I never thought I’d be worthy of your love…”

Yoongi’s voice cracks and he drops his head down trying to push himself to continue squeaking the words out of his throat as best he can. Hyeri can see how hard Yoongi is trying to keep it together but the more he tries the more his melody roars through her soul. Tears are running down his face but he continues singing through it all until he can’t anymore. His fingers keep moving but his throat is rendered void of sound. He leaves everything he has on those piano keys, everything he can give. All of his love, tears, and regrets carry the song to its final notes.

“I love you,” Yoongi whispers with his head still hanging down.

Hyeri tries to speak but nothing comes out. She can hardly see through the tears barreling out of her eyes. She sits on the piano bench next to Yoongi and cups his face in her hands. She wipes his wet cheeks with her thumbs trying to find the words to say to him. The song wasn’t just beautiful, it was powerful and emotional. She felt something that she can hardly explain through his song. She saw a Yoongi she’d never seen before.

“Yoongi,” she squeaks. “I love you so much. This is all so…how do I even deserve any of this?”

“You deserve more,” he says taking her hand from his cheek and holding on to it. “So much more for everything I put you through.”

“You make it so hard to love you,” she cries. “You hurt me so much then you make me feel like the only person in the world. You’ve got my mind and my heart so messed up, Yoongi.”

“Please,” he pleads nearing another wave of sobs. “Give me the chance to earn your trust back. I promise I will never hurt you like this again. I’m just asking for a chance, Hyeri.”

“Ok,” she whimpers with a nod.

Yoongi cracks a smile then pulls her into a tight hug. She returns his squeeze feeling like she was just freed from her shackles of numbness. She sat there and let everything go. The past few weeks she’d been crying her troubles to Haeun, she let them all out here on Yoongi’s chest. Everything she’s held in since the night he drunkenly admitted to cheating on her came through her fingers digging deep into his back. All of the lonely nights, stressful days, and anxious dreams burn their way up her throat into a loud cry that pierces Yoongi’s heart. He holds her tighter and kisses the top of her head. He felt her pain in that cry and he never wants to hear her cry like that again.

[heliza24]

Love your blog and all your analysis!!

Many people didn't like S2 because Simon, according to them was just a tool to drive Wilhelm's story, a love interest only and didn't really have his own story. In particular, many are frustrated at the lack of narrative on the video's effect and Simon's subsequent trauma. Of course, everyone's allowed their opinions but seeing as you have experience in the world of writing and making tv magic, wanted to get your insight on this. Thanks, a S2 fan! 💜

Hi anon! Thanks for the question.

I’ve already written pretty extensively about Simon’s arc in season 2 and why I like it in this post. In short, I think he grows a lot in season 2, but his growth takes him towards emotional vulnerability and openness, which is not something we’re used to seeing in characters (especially not male ones). 

I also don’t mind how they address Simon’s trauma in season 2. I’m going to approach this momentarily not as a writer, but as someone who has been in therapy for years. There are some traumas that have happened to me (like a serious car accident when I was a kid) that are very concrete, with a set beginning and end, and that began to affect me right away. (I had ptsd symptoms pretty immediately after that accident). But there are other traumas that feel like a series of small cuts instead of one big punch. It’s harder to decide where they begin and end, and their effects are more subtle. Sometimes it takes me years to even realize that they were traumatic and that they are still affecting me. (The medical trauma I’ve experienced as an adult over several years is like this). To me this is more what Simon is dealing with with the video. Once the video goes online, it’s not coming down. There’s no set end date, and Simon spends most of season 2 not even knowing who the perpetrator was. He’s in the kind of no-man’s land between the initial blow and coming to understand how the whole process has affected him. That being said, I do think we see some changes in him that reflect what he’s gone through. He seems to care a lot less about his academic classes than he did in season 1. He’s writing music in an attempt to process what he’s been through. And you could even see his attempt to have sex with Marcus as a trauma response. The last time he hooked up with someone his agency was taken from him. So it makes sense to me that he’s eager to have sex again but fully on his own terms, to partially erase that feeling of not being in control. I don’t know for sure if this will happen, but I wouldn’t be surprised if we see more traditional ptsd symptoms from Simon in season 3. If there’s some sort of legal action against August that would signify a sort of “end” of the video trauma, and would also probably be re-traumatizing in a lot of ways. I also think interacting directly with the royal family might stir up some things as well.

Ok, now I’m going to totally switch gears and approach your question from a writing perspective. Let’s talk about story structure for a minute, specifically TV story structure. Most TV has an A plot and a B plot (and sometimes a C plot too). In old school cable procedurals, the A plot would be the mystery of the week, while the B plot would be about whatever was happening in the characters’ personal lives. If there was an overarching mystery or storyline that tied the whole season together, that would be the C plot. As you can guess by how they’re named, the A Plot would take up the most time and do the most to drive  the episode forward. The B plot is next most important, etc. Once shows started to become more serialized in the age of streaming, the concept of A and B plots changed a little bit. Now the plots are divided by character and theme. The A plot will be headlined by the protagonist and will explore the main themes of the show. The B plot will be headlined by a secondary protagonist, who doesn’t have as much to do as the A plot lead, but is still answering a dramatic question that relates to the central themes of the show. A lot of times the primary and secondary protagonists’ actions influence each other, but they don’t share a ton of screen time. (If they did, their stories wouldn’t be separate.) You can think of the A and B plot protagonists as two sides of the same coin. They’re intricately connected, they’re exploring the same ideas, but they rarely come face to face, and they often represent different perspectives on the same themes. Black Sails is probably my favorite example of this. (I’m not as active in the Black Sails fandom as I am in the Young Royals fandom, but Black Sails is probably my all time favorite show and I absolutely love all the ungovernable pirates over in the Black Sails tag. Shout out to them). James Flint is the main protagonist and headliner of the A story, but Max is the secondary protagonist that headlines the B story. Both are struggling with the question of how to achieve and wield power in an unjust world, and their political maneuvers consistently influence each other’s plots. They share a lot of secondary characters across both of their plots, but they themselves never interact. So that’s one example, and if you look around at your favorite shows you’ll be able to find lots that adhere to this formula, including, I would say, Young Royals.

I think a lot of people are kind of subconsciously looking for this kind of structure, and have decided that Simon is the protagonist of the B plot. I understand this, because we all love Simon. He’s really well written and acted, his personality is so compelling, and his chemistry with Wilhelm is great. I spend a lot of time writing him in fic (I’m the writer of all the Simon content in Heart and Homeland) so I understand this impulse. But if you were looking for Simon to be anchoring the B plot in season 2, you might have been disappointed. Because in reality I don’t think he’s the secondary protagonist. I think Sara is. 

Sara is set up as a foil to Wilhelm, the main protagonist, in so many ways. I always say that the driving dramatic question of Young Royals lives with Wilhelm, and it’s something along the lines of “should I conform and live the oppressive life that was designed for me, or rebel and find my own path to happiness?” Sara is wrestling with a similar question that’s kind of the inverse of this; for her settling into a prescribed role in the Hillerska class system initially seems like a relief. So maybe for her the dramatic question is something along the lines of “is the price of fitting in worth it? Will it lead to true happiness?” They feel so much like opposite sides of the same coin to me. 

So Sara and Wilhelm are both trying to define themselves in relation to their families and also the class system. This comes up in the similarities of their family structure (they both feel very connected to their class position through their families; they both have complicated relationships with their mothers and bad to negligible relationships with their fathers; they both have a deep connection to their siblings) and in the relationships they choose to embark upon. They’re both navigating a very serious and complicated first love. They’re both dating across class (in the opposite direction, a perfect example of the “different views on the same theme” aspect of primary and secondary protagonists). They both have concerns about how and when their relationships become public, and by extension are both playing in the sandbox of themes around privacy and authenticity that define so much of the show.  

Both have difficulty regulating and recognizing their emotions. Sara seems to exhibit alexithymia, a common aspect of autism that makes it hard to recognize one's own emotions. Wilhelm has been taught to repress his emotions, which he does well until he explodes (like when he got into the fight at the top of the series or when he yells at his mom on the phone). He’s also managing a lot of physical symptoms of anxiety. 

Both also struggle with questions of justice and how to make things right. In the beginning of season 2, Wilhelm is initially determined to destroy August because he thinks August will never repent, but by the end of the season he’s starting to realize that this was the wrong technique. He realizes this largely because of Simon; he only puts down the gun and walks away from August because Simon does first.  Sara makes the opposite journey: she starts by trusting that August will change and repent on his own, but then she is forced to confront the fact that this is not true, and that she needs to use the legal system to bring August to justice. She makes this realization largely because of Simon, and seeing the ways that she has hurt Simon, in the same scene with the gun. 

The other big argument in support of Sara as the secondary protagonist of the show is that she and Wilhelm never directly interact. Their actions affect each other all the time, but they don’t share a scene together. They’re living on parallel but separate story tracks. 

Simon is a crucial character in both Wilhelm and Sara’s stories, but the fact that he is close with both excludes him from being a protagonist of his own plot line. (I would say the same about August, who is a catalyst for both Wilhelm and Sara.) That doesn’t mean that Simon isn’t well written. He has a very compelling character arc, motivates much of the plot, and his relationship with Wilhelm forms the heart of the show. But I think the reason people were disappointed in his story in season 2 is that they were expecting something from him that the structure of the show doesn’t support.  

If you’re interested in reading more about A/B/C plot structures I found this website really easy to understand. Also shout out to @bluedalahorse for talking to me about Wilhelm and Sara and helping me articulate what I was trying to say here. 

Thanks again for the ask, anon and for the vote of confidence in my analysis! I really appreciate it. If anyone else has a Young Royals scene or question they want me to break down from a writing or cinematography perspective, my ask box is always open.