#something something how much of the mask is actually you and how much of it is the front you put on and edit to make-

[hyperfixiation-station]

Behind Enemy Lines Pt.1

CW: Torture, Canon-typical violence, talk of derealization, disassociation Summary: You were a friendly medic, captured years ago and held prisoner, forced to do do the bidding of your captors. Years later, a man by the name of Ghost is dragged in and changes the trajectory of your life. A/N: I had severe ADHD, and i am unmedicated rn, and it makes it really hard to work on things unless I get the hyperfocused drive for it, so I'm sorry I'm so bad at making the other parts to my fics. Know that I will never abandon them. it just might take me a while. idea part 2

You fought back, at first. Way back when you first got captured, taken from your base camp and dragged through miles and miles of harsh terrain, blindfolded and bound. A medic you were, yes. But your team had trained you with the best of them. You spent the whole time trying to escape, kicking and screaming until they bound your legs and gagged you. You spent the first month of captivity refusing to talk to them, hissing and spitting and pretending their punches didn’t hurt. But it didn't take you long to realize it was better to cooperate, or to at least be civil. Civility got you less broken bones, less pain, more rations, more sleep. Cooperation didn’t come till later, when you finally realized your team wasn't coming for youthey were dead but you didn't know that.

Surprisingly, the whole mouth-getting-sewn-shut didn't happen till a couple years in... they were torturing someone, a man who said he had kids and a wife at home, whose only wish was that they left something recognizable of him so they could get some closure. You begged them to stop. Begged them to stop when his wounds became too numerous to count, too much for you to handle. Begged because you started to care for him as he told you about his son and daughter, how they want him home for Christmas(You didn't have the heart to tell him Christmas was 6 days ago) Told them that he would die no matter what you did if they continued. Well, they didn't stop, and he did die... and you found yourself ringing in the new year by being strapped to a table.

“We warned you to stop talking with him.” They said as they clamped the metal shut over your forehead and chin, holding you in place. “We told you to not get attached, but since you can’t seem to do it on your own, we’ll help you.” The feeding tube came 2 weeks later, shoved up your nose when they realized you were starving...they couldn't lose their favorite medic of course.

You stopped paying attention to the passage of time after that, spent most of your days drifting in and out of reality, moving through the motions with a practiced ease. And it would have remained that way, if it wasn’t for a man in a skull mask with a team- a family- looking for him. 

Your first introduction to him ended up with you getting a broken nose. Per usual, you were shoved into the cell, medical kit in hand, ready to fix up whatever damage your captors had done the their poor prisoner.

The mask he had been wearing when you saw him dragged in was gone, and he had a gash that went all the way through his cheek that would need stitching up. You pull out your equipment, moving slowly towards his bleeding face. 

he headbutted you the moment you got close enough for him to reach, and the crunch of bone and the gush of warm blood followed, not that you noticed. You were still in that dreamlike state, not quite tether to reality in the way you should be. You barely noticed when they tranqued him, and the only reason you didn't finish his stitches is because you passed out too(it’s hard to breathe through a bloody, broken nose)

The next time you approach more carefully, but he’s no trouble. Mostly because they left him completely strapped to the table this time. Today was a rare day, a time when you  could actually feel your feet on the ground rather than just see them. You feel bad as you wipe him down, your eyes flicking over the myriad of scars on his body. What’s one more you think to yourself as you get to work stitching a stab wound to his thigh. Just barely missed the artery here…that could have been bad news. Okay tie it off and- there we go. I think the only other thing that need to- oh, is he…talking to me? I should probably pay attention to that.

“-here?” His voice is gravely, though you suppose yours would be too after being tortured. He stares at you expectantly, and you shrug. You don’t know what he said, and even if you did, you couldn’t answer. You just move to his wrist, snapping the bone back in place. He inhales sharply, but doesn’t make an actual sound, which surprises you. But you don’t dwell on it, wrapping a bandage around his arm and moving to exit the room. 

“Y’ no’ g’nna lemme off?” His voice sounds, “they said y’ would.” You spin around, staring at him. You're not stupid. And even if your…bosses had said that, you still wouldn’t do it. Being trapped in a room with a man who is at least a foot taller than you and looks like he could kill a man with his glare? No thank you. 

You take a step back, heading towards the door. The man lets out a sound you would barely qualify as a laugh. “Sm’rt then.” He says to himself, “No’ gonna be that easy.” 

The next time you go in, you can't help but wonder what they want from this man. By now they usually would have killed him off. Oh well, not your job to wonder. You clean him up, splinting the fingers they had broke when he talks to you again.

"why don't y' let me die?" He says, voice just as gravely as before, "Put me outa m' misery?" You don't respond, just keep taping his hand. IT's something you ad asked yourself, right at the beginning. It would be kinder for you to just let your patients die. But you couldn't do it. Partially because you were punished anytime someone died before your captors wanted them to, but also because you were a medic. YOu were there to heal. You couldn't stomach letting someone die by your hand.

"Answer me!" The man snarls, bringing you back to the present, "For god's sake y' never talk, fuckin' mute." You don't respond, of course. Just finish your task and leave him to his thoughts.

He’s angrier after that time, you’ve noticed. The few times you're actually present, he’s fighting you. Usually not with words, but he bucks and doesn’t hold still. He’s tried to grab your medical supplies countless times, and one time you actually had to be pulled out because he jerked his arm while you were stitching him and somehow managed to drive the needle into your own hand. The few times he does actually yell at you, you’re usually not paying attention. You can catch words like “Dishonorable”  and “Disgraceful”. You aren’t entirely sure of the context of the words, but you can guess. You’ve treated enough prisoners who think that you are the world's worst human being, a blight to the medical field, to guess what he's trying to tell you. 

It's funny though, this man so full of hate. Because, for the first time in goodness knows how long, your feet are on the ground, and your head is level. Something about this man, his angry, uncrushed demeanor, even after weeks of torture, stirs emotion in you that you can’t quite identify. And maybe you should be grateful, thankful your head is on right, but you're not. You so desperately want to go back to that place of apathy and detachment, where your emotions weren’t so strong, were the pains of mishealed bones and poorly healed scars didn’t plague your waking moments. 

Or maybe it wasn’t the man- The Ghost, as you found out he was called. Maybe it was the fact that something in the air had changed. The air was electric, charged with tension so thick you could feel it even alone in your cot. They were watching you, you could tell. Could feel their eyes tracking your movements in a way they hadn’t since first giving you freedom to move around. 

You're not sure why. It’s not like you have anyone to go home to. You were an only child, and your parents had died long before you reached 18. All you had was your team, a team that had seemingly abandoned you. So why would you leave? There was nowhere to go. And yet they watched you. Was it because you were becoming more aware, more grounded then you had been in a long while? Was it the man, Ghost, who had them on edge? 

The answer came two days later. You were in Ghost's cell again, desperately packing gauze into a gaping hole on his side. You don’t know what had happened, but for the first time in years you were dragged from your cell, your captors muttering under their breath in a language you still didn’t understand as they thrust you into his cell. Blood was everywhere. Your best guess was that Ghost had been struggling and an instrument had slipped and gouged out a hole in his side. So here you are, packing gauze into the wound as you try to figure out what to do to keep him alive with your rudimentary supplies. 

You pack another piece of gauze in just as the door goes flying open. Men, dressed in black, wearing the same mask Ghost was, come bursting in. 

“Get back!” The one in the front yells at you, gun pointed in your face. You shake your head, hands pressed against Ghost’s wound. 

“Now!” You make a protesting noise, trying to gesture with your chin. The man looks down, eyes widening. 

“Aw shit- are you the medic?” You nod almost desperately. The man looks at you again, staring at your hands. They are shaking, pressed against the wound as you try to keep Ghost from bleeding out. 

“Fix him.” The man snaps. You shake your head and look up at the man, trying to communicate that you need more supplies. 

“Use your words.” The man gabs the gun at you, indicating he wants you to get on with it. You stomp your foot, shaking your head again. 

“What, what's that supposed..…you can’t speak, can you?” You nod, glad he finally got it. The man groans, lowering his gun.

“You’re coming with us, but you make one wrong move, and I mean one, I will put a bullet through your brain before you can even speak. Got it?” He gestures to the other two men with him, and together you lift Ghost up, carrying him out to safety.

A/N- anyways, here's part one. Sorry if it disappoints anyone

tags, sorry if i missed any:

@redzluvvesage @just-a-harmless-potato-05  @vesna-the-spring @princess312 @norsehorseofcourse-blog @bonniperinktrance @soggywafflezz  @littlebunie @sirbonesly @havoc973 @mommymilkers0526 @thegreyjoyed @pinkiliciousgunp0int @poopoobuttsy @darcellethedreamer @kamote-kuneho

[cuckoo-on-a-string]

Neighborly (Part 3/Ending)

mdni

Masterlist

Soap x reader x Ghost

Summary: You didn't know hate until Johnny MacTavish. (Or a really big build-up to cuddles and smut).

Warnings: SMUT, vaguely dom Ghost, unrealistic recovery time from near death experience/hypothermia, cuddling for medical reasons, implied medically-related stripping, implied anxiety disorder/depressive disorder, self-isolation, language, incredibly shitty communication and social competence.

The next day, Ghost had you write a list of things you needed from home. He assured you Johnny wouldn’t be stepping foot in your place, but that did leave you on your own with the Scotsman while the giant lumbered through the snow to pack an overnight bag on your behalf.

Your extremities still had fits of unpleasant tingles, but when Ghost examined your hands and feet, he assured you there shouldn’t be permanent damage. First degree frost bite at worst. He praised your choice in winter boots, thick socks, and heavy mittens.

You’d asked how he knew.

“Had some experience. Nothing to worry about. Trust me.”

Instantly flustered, you’d looked down at the huge socks over your hands, fighting away the question of which man they belonged to, and assured him you did. Stupid, since you barely knew him, but you did, and much more than you should.

It didn’t matter if the man was handsome under that mask or ugly as sin. His voice did things to you. It made you want to sin so much he looked like an angel. And the way he handled you in bed, if only platonically, woke your libido from hibernation. Which was un-fucking-fortunate, all things considered. You’d be a horrible lay at the moment with your chapped skin and lingering exhaustion.

Besides, your neighbors were definitely in a relationship.

As you dozed after a cup of sugary tea, Ghost stepped away to speak with Johnny. You could see through the open door when the big man seized his partner by the back of the neck, leaning forehead-to-forehead as he rumbled something in that intoxicating voice. The mask didn’t come off, but you’d definitely spied a tongue stretching the knit to stab into Johnny’s mouth. Hands went to waists, drifted to asses, displayed affection they probably didn’t realize was so public.

You tried very hard to actually go to sleep after that. It wasn’t like you’d meant to creep on them. And they were the ones who chose to make out in front the invalid’s open damn door.

But it put your thoughts in a tailspin, and everything overwhelmed you. A near death experience preceded by robbery and car problems made for a long day. Waking up in your neighbor’s boyfriend’s arms and realizing they’d seen you naked took the knot of emotions and twisted. Then there was the fact that Ghost was likely elbow deep in your underwear drawer – again for platonic reasons – and it wound you up in the worst way. You were a fucking mess. A wad of feelings without an outlet.

You needed to get off and have a good cry. Either or both. And you weren’t in a position to have either.

When you’d suggested going home, Ghost shut you down before you even finished the thought.

“We’ll take care of you. Owe you, yeah? Besides, you’re still recovering.”

So, you wrote the damn list, asking for your comfy clothes, your toothbrush, phone charger, and other necessities. You resisted asking for your favorite throw blanket or the heavy, knitted monstrosity you tried knitting a few years back that was almost a sweater. Nothing you loved was safe around Johnny, and you didn’t want to be a burden, anyway.

Fuck.

Right.

You were a burden.

When you felt a bit better, you’d handle the empty mugs on the nightstand. What else could you clean? Efficient as Ghost was, he was babysitting for two adults. There must be a mess to clean, laundry to fold, something.

You’d make it right. When you’d put some distance between your waking thoughts and death’s shadow.

Trying to think your way out of the lingering pain with your thighs clenched and your glare drilling into the far wall, you almost managed to dissociate for a beat.

Until he knocked.

“Hey.”

Fucking Johnny.

You rolled over, glowering with the blankets up to your nose. Ghost should hurry and come back.

“’M so sorry, hen.” Failing to take the hint, Johnny inched into the room. His folded arms and heavy frown left him looking severe. The boyish illusion was missing. He was all bulging muscles, faint scars, and dog tags.

You’d wondered more than once if he was military. If he was, you’d bet anything Ghost was, too.

“I almost died,” you mumbled, speaking through the blankets. “I would’ve helped with whatever you needed if you’d fucking asked.”

His eyes snapped shut. His head dropped. Deep breaths lifted his shoulders, and he looked like he was in genuine pain.

Good. That made two of you.

“You’re an asshole.”

“Aye.”

“You’re a jerk.”

“Aye.”

“You almost got me killed.”

“Aye.” Eyes wide, hands pressed to the foot of the bed, he towered over you, bubbling over. “I’ll make it up to you. Whatever it takes.”

He was practically panting, trying to escape his guilt. Just one more thing he wanted from you: absolution. A knight seeking a quest of atonement.

If he could take away the memories of betrayal and isolation as you felt your mind break and your body fail, that would work. You almost found enough spite in your heart to say it.

“I thought we were friends.” Half confession, half accusation.

“We are, bonnie, I swear –”

“No, we’re not.”

He clenched the blankets, white-knuckled with wet eyes that promised rain.

“Bonnie –”

“Stand down, Soap.”

You both turned to find Ghost peering in from the hall. He held a duffel bag, lightly dusted in snow that hadn’t quite stopped falling. Doordash had arrived with your order.

He set the bag on the end of the bed, nudging Johnny aside and nodding towards the open door. Johnny got the message, slinking out with his tail between his legs.

“Brought your things. Feel up to a shower? It would probably help at this stage. I’ll set out some towels for you.”

“Thanks.” You ignored Johnny, grateful for the escape Ghost offered from both the conversation and the room. “That sounds great.”

“I’ll get things sorted, then.”

He left you to choose your things from the bag, disappearing into the ensuite you had yet to explore. You got what you needed. Toiletries. Robe. Toothbrush. Just the basics. You’d address your hair later. And… everything else, really. You weren’t ready to see your clothes sitting folded in a tidy pile on your neighbors’ bathroom counter, even less so on their bed.

Ghost reappeared, and he pointed out the towels he’d prepared. “Assume your shower’s like ours.”

“Probably. Thanks.” Again. “I’ll just be a minute.”

“Take your time.”

A nice sentiment, but you really couldn’t. You practically jumped out of your borrowed clothes as the water heated, and you got in when it was just north of tepid. You would not use all their hot water. By now, they had to be running on generator power. The power always went out for a day or two when the big one hit. All it took was one tree.

Still, once the sweat and stress-stink washed off, your hand lingered over your chest, an echo of your host’s. He hadn’t gotten frisky. He’d been entirely respectful. But if his hand had strayed even a little…

Or a lot.

Shit. Fuck. No.

You could not get off in your neighbors’ shower. That was out of the question. Even if they didn’t hear you, it was… rude.

Your core ached, stirred from passive aggression to full on fit by the water and your overactive imagination.

Enough. You were clean. You needed to stop.

So you finished your shower (and nothing else) in record time. You wrapped yourself in your robe, wondering if Ghost had packed any sports bras comfortable enough to sleep in.

Both men were waiting for you when you emerged.

“Uh…” Were you supposed to get dressed in the bathroom? Shit. You should’ve…

“Thought it was about time you got that apology,” Ghost said. He stepped closer. His fingertips brushed over the back of your hand, conjuring goosebumps like magic. “You’re cold again.”

“I’m fine.”

“Oh, aye.” Johnny winked. Caught himself. Cleared his throat. “Really am sorry. Wanna prove it. First step towards reparations, aye?”

He inched closer as he spoke, and Ghost stepped back to give him space. You held your ground, but only out of confusion. You technically had more skin covered than you had since they rescued you, but you were hyper aware of the loose knot holding the robe closed.

“What did you have in mind?”

Tea? A year’s subscription to a meal delivery service? A note?

His eyes flicked to your lips. “Thought I could warm you up.”

Your brain sputtered. It even made a sound like your engine had when it ran out of gas.

“I don’t think I understand.”

“I think you do.”

He wasn’t touching you. Yet. But his breath fanned over your lips. His body heat reached through your robe.

His partner was in the fucking room. “You’re in a relationship.”

“Already discussed it.”

You turned to Ghost, shocked, but he was relaxed. Almost casual about his boyfriend seducing the neighbor in his bedroom.

“We both like ya, bonnie,” Johnny whispered in your ear.

You shivered.

It sounded like such a bad idea.

But you wanted it. You wanted a real apology, and a reason to forget it all ever happened.

“How about it?” Johnny was hovering. Waiting for the green light. “Let us make you feel good?”

One more time, you looked to Ghost. You had to be sure. You wanted his permission. His confirmation. He nodded. So did you.

With one hand on your cheek, drawing your attention back to him, and one on the back of your neck, your neighbor pressed you into a kiss. There was no demure pecking. No sweet warm-up. Lips, tongue, and teeth leapt into the fray at the first trumpet blast.

A gasp gave him a window of opportunity, and soon you were eagerly kissing him back, yanking on his stupid mohawk for vengeance and a pitiful attempt at control.

Johnny licked a moan out of your mouth. He scoured your whimpers clean, gulping them down with a happy rumble.

“The best apologies are given on your knees, don’t you think Johnny?”

A silent exchange passed between the men, and Johnny was all smiles.

“Couldn’t agree more. Here, sit down, pretty girl.” He arranged you on the edge of the bed, dropping to his knees to keep the kisses coming. He plucked the robe’s knot free and tugged it open. His lips stayed on yours as fabric fell away from your shoulders, legs, and chest, pooling around your wrists. There was no time for the usual, momentary panic of finding yourself naked for the first time with a new romantic partner.

One more peck, and a whispered, “Lie back, bonnie.” And he was working down your sternum, pushing your knees apart. “Gonnae give you an apology you never forget.”

The apology came letter by letter, spelled through your folds. The S snaked around your entrance, looping over your clit. The O stayed there, spinning around your bud. The Rs wandered, following the O’s path before tracing each side of your entrance. The Y started at your base and swept up, teasing either side of your clit in turns.

He said it over and over again. The clever rhythm had him smiling against you as you tugged at his mohawk, trying to chase each sensation. But his hands were strong, and he kept you spread and stationary. At the mercy of his repentance.

The Os never circled long enough, and his tongue dipped inside just enough to remind you how much you ached for more on every Y.

It was driving you crazy, and tears of frustration gathered, blurring his self-satisfied gaze. You’d had it with him. Even when he went down on you, he took his own pleasure first, playing games you had no spoons left to enjoy. You wanted him to take care of you like he’d promised. You wanted to lose yourself. Wanted to feel desired. Wanted to feel good.

Your whining plea didn’t sound at all sexy to your own ears, but the way the tongue shook with suppressed laughter between your legs proved someone was having a good time.

Solid heat you’d learned to recognize in your sleep slipped up behind you. Long, thick fingers petted back your sweaty hair, and a hand pulled you back, urging you to relax into a solid chest. Ghost, once again coming your rescue.

“Be good, Johnny,” he rumbled. “Stop teasing.”

Eyes glinting, your tormentor’s face appeared. He licked his lips with a wolf’s fervor, eyes flashing from yours to Ghost’s.

“Yes, sir.” His voice had gone rough. Deep. You shuddered, and he squeezed your thighs. “Mind givin’ me a hand, LT?”

Ghost huffed, almost a dry laugh, and his hands left you. You had a mind to complain again, but then his grip appeared under your knees, lifting and spreading even farther than Johnny wheedled earlier. You were obscene. You were desperate.

“You doing alright? Let us make you feel better. Give Johnny the chance to start paying you back for all the trouble he’s caused, yeah?”

One hand clamped onto his arm, unsure whether you planned to push it away or simply cling on. As you vacillated, Johnny craned forward, blew on you, and you spasmed. Your free hand jumped back to Ghost’s balaclava, and you knew what you wanted.

“Yeah. I’m alright. Please.”

“You heard the woman.”

“Happy to serve.” Johnny grinned, nearly feral, and lunged forward with fresh determination.

Now free, his fingers pulled you open, giving him better access to the mess he’d made with all his teasing. His tongue pressed hard, spearing deep as it could reach. It worked relentlessly, trying to scoop out every last drop, but the slick only grew, and he returned to your clit.

Ghost held you at an angle that defied your attempts to ride Johnny’s face, and you turned into a twitching, writhing mass in his lap. When his partner started suckling your bud, you shrieked, and Ghost crooned. His thumbs worked circles in your flesh, soothing the edge of delirium rising with your pleasure.

“Good girl. There you go. Finally letting us take care of you.”

A finger pressed inside, petting and curling as it hunted for the right spot. Every muscle rolled, trying to participate, to join the dance, and then Johnny found what he was looking for, and you screamed.

He’d tormented you so long. You didn’t have a chance to give a warning or brace for the snap. Your orgasm practically exploded, and for a minute you couldn’t even breathe. Everything froze, trying to catch and keep the high as your vision went white and your ears rang. Your thoughts ran slow and thick, like honey in winter, just soft enough for Ghost’s words to penetrate.

“How you feelin’? Rung out or ready for more?”

What a stupid question. Appreciated, but stupid. You’d ask for more until your voice gave out.

You consciously, carefully unclenched your fingers from his mask, from his sleeve. He still held you open, shivering and bare apart from Johnny’s face, still pressing slow kisses with tongue and teeth anywhere he was tempted to taste. Glimmers of firelight caught in the arousal smeared over his cheeks.

“More.”

Johnny muttered something very Scottish you couldn’t quite make out through the fading white noise in your head. But your eyes worked perfectly well, and he put on a show, yanking off his shirt, showing off like he used to when he shoveled the drive.

“Tell her, Johnny,” Ghost prompted. “Give her everything you’ve been thinking since you moved in here.”

“Fuck.” The Scotsman worked his belt free as talked, staring at you. His eyes roved, chasing the paths his tongue had traveled, rising to your heaving chest, to your face, so close to his LT’s commanding gaze. “Heard the neighbor was a hermit. Expected – doesnae matter. Prettiest hermit I’d ever fuckin’ seen. Showin’ up with biscuits and makin’ friendly.” The belt swished free from its loops and clattered to the ground. “Had me graspin’ after my manners with one look. An' after I tried catchin’ your eye in the snow, you took care of me an all.” He popped his button free. The zipper went down. “Wanted to bring ya inside and make things cozy. Had to wait for Ghost. Had to let ‘im see ya. Let him understand.” His hand slipped under his clothes, bringing a swollen red tip peeking over the elastic of his underwear.

“Should’a heard him on the phone,” Ghost murmured in your ear as Johnny pushed down his remaining clothes, already hard and weeping for you. “Thought he was gonna come to just the thought of you some nights. Started giving me ideas before I even had a chance to thank you for minding him.”

Naked, practically glowing in the fire, Johnny swooped down for a kiss. He squeezed a breast, thumbing the nipple relentlessly until you broke for air. Everything about him hummed with energy. A livewire sparking over the street. “Wanna fuck you. Please? Please let me fuck you, bonnie. Sweetest little cunt I’ve ever had. Please?”

Standing where he was, and held as you were, his dick rubbed against you as he spoke.

You were going to combust, and you’d enjoy every fucking second of it. All thoughts of snow and ice had melted. Everything had turned to steam.

“Yes.” He’d dived to work a hickey into your neck during your brief hesitation, and you fought to even whisper your answer. “Please.”

He lined up, rocking shallowly once, twice, and pushing home in a long, burning stroke. You yelped, and he moaned, both going still until the sting had passed. By the time you nodded your permission, he had his hands on your hips, trembling with need.

He fucked you like he was dying. Like you were his last meal and the only lifeline thrown in a storm. It was months of yearning, months of confusion and false starts and greedy hunger that spilled over and burned you like hot wax. There was no shelter – not that you wanted any – and you once again seized Ghost’s arms because they were the only fucking thing he’d let you reach. They would take care of you. You weren’t allowed to do any of the work. Not in that bed. Not that night.

Johnny keened, huffing and growling and whimpering as he went faster and faster. He brought you so far. So close. Just a little more.

But not enough.

His hips stuttered, his head bowed, and his warm release splashed out.

“Fuck.” Blushing from exertion – and probably something else – he looked up from where he was still balls-deep to sheepishly meet your eyes. “I swear, never finished so fast in my life. Didn’t get you there in time, did I?”

He pulled out, and you dropped your head back on Ghost’s shoulder with a wail of frustration. You were too close to stop now. You reached down to touch yourself, but before you could rub one out, Ghost shifted. He moved closer to the edge of the bed, dropping one of your legs to swat your hand away from your clit.

When you didn’t fight him, he reached behind you, and you both heard and felt him work his cock free.

“May I?”

Too horny and too frustrated, you nodded wildly. “I said I trusted you.”

“Glad to hear it.”

He didn’t pick up where Johnny left off. Thick fingers that had really only held you up to this point reached down, groping over breast and belly to reach your center. Long strokes kept the spark in your belly alive as he ran his hand over you, lubing his fingers in the mixed spend.

One dipped in. He paused, considering. Then a second joined.

“Minute I saw you at the door, knew you were a carer,” he said. “Knew it’d been so long since someone took care of you that you’d forgotten how a good neighbor should act.” The fingers curled, scissored, working you with clear and vulgar intent. “Wanted to be more than neighbors. Had to close that door quick. Every filthy thing Johnny said hit me, and I wasn’t fit company.” The full implications of that didn’t quite hit you in the moment, but a hazy vision of him watching you through the windows, palming an erection sent your cunt fluttering.

A third finger. All together, they were wider than Johnny’s cock. A deep breath helped. The thumb flicking over your clit like a moth drawn to a porchlight did more. “Had to figure out how to fix all the fuck ups then. So many delays. Took too damn long.” He pulled his hand free, denying you release.

“You said you’d take care of me.”

“We will, sweatheeart. Easy now.” His hand hovered in front of you, fingers spread so he could watch his good work cling and drip like a liquid spiderweb between his digits. “Fuck. You’re perfect.”

He spread his knees, pushing yours wider, and he lifted you up until his dick rubbed over your entrance. Even without looking, you could tell he was massive. You’d need to relax. You’d need to trust him.

Unlike Johnny, he took things slow. He read every flutter and clench, every gasp and hiss like he was fluent in your personal language of carnality. The stretch constantly rode the edge of too much, but it touched places no one else had reached, stuffed your senses full of bliss. And he was so careful. Tactical.

When he’d sheathed himself, his hands slid to your thighs, positioning you in a similar way as before.

“Think you’ve got more apologizing to do, Johnny.”

“Yes, sir.”

You’d closed your eyes at some point, overwhelmed by everything Ghost had to give, but you snapped to attention when a tongue ran over your clit. Johnny smiled up at you, pleased as punch. Devious fucker.

Ghost thrust, and the sound he pushed out of your mouth was pure filth. Helpless, you made it again with the second push. It happened again and again until it became an unbroken string of praise and pleas. Johnny made a game of keeping his tongue on you, pulling back, going still so Ghost would bounce you along it as he drove into you.

A hand pressed over your lower belly, and you moaned in tandem with Johnny.

“Fuck, Simon. Can feel you moving in her.”

After Johnny’s performance, Ghost clearly had something to prove. The first time you came, you clenched so hard on his dick it actually slowed him down. You thought that would be it, that he’d ride high to the end having achieved his goal. Instead, he kept going, fucking you brainless as Johnny actually giggled below. A second climax left you boneless, and by the third you’d entered a fugue state. Ghost slowed down until you could respond (I’m okay.) and then he drove you over the edge until you forgot how to count. Johnny offered kitten licks and praise throughout. When Ghost finally finished - pulling you flush to his chest and panting in your ear (Good fucking woman.) it was Johnny’s attention to your clit that broke you. He sucked and worked his tongue under your clitoral hood like he was sucking nectar from a honeysuckle blossom.

But you were tapped.

“Can’t. Too much.”

Johnny disengaged immediately, and two pairs of hands lifted you from where you sat impaled. Soft words and warm washcloths bathed you in the afterglow. Gentle suggestions guided you under the covers, and a familiar touch turned you to rest with your back to a heated chest. Warmth crowded in from the front, too, murmured joy and praise leaking through the haze to find you.

You didn’t even realize as you slept that you’d found something far better than a good neighbor. But that understanding would come with the dawn, a cup of tea, and a suggestion to go thrifting when the weather broke so you could find a matching set of truly hideous mugs.

[uncle-fruity]

I appreciate everything OP said here, and so much of it rings true. And while we're on this topic, I wanna bring up something I've been mulling over that I think is related.

We have got to stop thinking of marginalized people as a monolith -- even when that homogenized version in our heads is mostly positive. What I mean is that not every trans person is a good person. Just like not every cis person is a bad person. There will be trans people who are uninformed, willfully ignorant, rude, mean, abusive, manipulative, misogynistic, hypocritical, and honestly pretty bad allies to anyone who they don't understand or don't like or who challenges their worldview. There will be cis people who are extremely well-read on the issues, understanding, supportive, encouraging, open-minded, willing to listen & learn, kind, respectful, dedicated transfeminists, and honestly some of the best allies you'll ever have.

There is this sort of underlying assumption that trans people will always understand each other better than anyone else, that we are safer with our own, but that's not always the case. It is fair to assume that trans people are more likely to connect with and understand each other, but it is (clearly, as demonstrated) not guaranteed.

That's because we are humans! Humans are messy, complex, often hypocritical, nuanced beings. We all have different experiences, surroundings, relationships, beliefs, and priorities that make us who we are. Gender is just one facet of the many many things that come together to make us wholly human. Being trans doesn't make you a good person; it makes you trans. And while being trans may give you valuable insight on gender dynamics and trans oppression via direct exposure, it does not automatically make you a scholar or expert on all trans experiences or the historical context that feminism & transfeminism is built on. That kind of information must be actively pursued if you want a fuller picture.

This is why I've been going off about critical thinking so much -- because if you aren't being critical about this, it gets very very easy to fall into a reactive and/or bigoted and/or narrow mindset, and that can be genuinely harmful to yourself and others if you're not careful. Especially on Tumblr, where someone could very easily misrepresent their identity to stir up shit and push transphobic rhetoric behind the mask of an assumed ally. Thinking critically is a vital tool to help us avoid being manipulated by a false or disingenuous narrative.

When we say, "Listen to trans people," we mean that you need to pay attention to a wide variety of trans people and what we're talking about -- because we will and do agree AND disagree with each other on a number of issues all the time. But the more of us you listen to and consider, the more likely you are to see patterns of oppression and common trans experiences that will broaden your worldview and help you make a better informed decision about what to believe or what to look further into or how to spot common anti-trans sentiments/dogwhistles. "Listen to trans people" is not followed by the secret phrase, "and thoughtlessly accept everything they say about trans issues." Anyone who demands that you agree with them without room for question or comment or criticism is trying to control the narrative. Even if there is good reason to believe someone knows their shit, it never hurts to dig deeper into the worldview someone is trying to get you to internalize before you do so.

So, with that in mind, I encourage everyone to really take stock of their priorities & values within activism and judge people on their actual behaviors & impact & quality of information they present, NOT just their stated identities. If something a fellow activist said feels uncomfortable or rubs up against your values, it's okay to examine that feeling and ask questions to figure out what's at the root of it. The trans women who act the way OP described are not representative of all trans women, nor are they necessarily our allies. The same goes for misogynistic & transmisogynistic trans men. Or trans people of any sort who subscribe to any flavor of gender/bioessentalist ideology. That isn't to say that we don't fight for their rights or support them when they fall victim to systemic violence or ignore their issues or give up on trying to educate & elevate where we can -- we are still fighting the patriarchy for everyone's benefit. But, critically, we also don't have to accept hateful rhetoric into our communities and theories just because the fuckos spouting it off are trans.

honestly, as a trans woman who's running a fairly 'popular' or whatever queer blog, i've noticed so much shit in the past 2 years and i'm just gonna lay it out for y'all. it's a new year. it's 2025. i do NOT wanna carry any more of this bullshit forward. i'm calling everything for what it is. if this pisses you off, unfollow or block and move on.

as someone else put it in the tags on one of my other posts:

i am sick and tired of not talking about extremely important queer conversation topics for the sake of "keeping the peace".

this is not giving trans women and transfemmes a better quality of life to attack literally every every and all trans men for being trans men. it's making people fucking scared shitless of us. i hope people realize this isn't helping improve the opinion other people have on trans women and transfemmes. it's making people absolutely fucking terrified to even exist around us, because we've gotten to the point where we're attacking literally everyone and anyone who says something we don't like. people are fucking terrified of talking around transfemmes and trans women and it's time we broke the silence on that.

other transfemmes and trans women: do you seriously, really want other trans people to be scared to death of you? do you really want other trans people to be absolutely fucking terrified to speak around you because they're scared of getting fucking yelled at? do you really want other trans people to be utterly terrified to speak up about their own trans issues for fear of being told they hate you? do you really want other people around you to feel utterly terrified to talk about anything queer related at all for fear of being corrected, looked down upon, or verbally harassed?

i am just completely done with this environment we've fostered where basically everyone is on pins and goddamn needles holding themselves back from having real, genuine, impactful, substantial conversations about gender because they're absolutely scared shitless of being called transmisogynistic and publicly cancelled and harassed at all times for saying something as simple as "trans men don't have it easy" or talking about how AFAB people can also be trans. it really does not take much at all to set people off on this website and start accusing people of being transmisogynists left right and center.

i'm not participating in this weird mind game anymore. i do not like how this is being used to control the narrative on transness and trans experiences.

i am done with having to walk on eggshells in every. single. conversation. we have about gender.

i am done with acting like talking about transmasculinity and transmanhood is somehow magically attacking and silencing trans women and transfemmes.

i am done with people having to tack on massive disclaimers saying that they're not attacking trans women and transfemmes just for talking about their experiences on just about every post people write about gender.

i feel like every conversation about gender on here has to be so fucking sterile and calculated and meticulously planned out and stripped of most of its contents in order to not immediately get slammed with a "oh so you hate trans women" or a "oh so you're transmisogynstic." it's fine to point out genuine transmisogyny, i'm not gonna say you have to put up with it when it's real, but can we acknowledge that people are leveraging the fear other people have of being called transmisogynistic to shut people up?

at this point it's being used as a scare tactic and i'm so over it. i loathe how accusing people of being transmisogynistic is a default insult. trans men can't make a post about transmasculinity without someone getting pissed off and calling them transmisogynistic. trans men can't talk about a goddamn thing without being told to shut up, for some reason? why is this happening? like literally why are you doing this? trans men can't talk about ANYTHING at this point. like they needed to be able to coin words for the specific types of oppression they face so they could talk about it, and instead they just get fucking yelled at and told they're being copycats and that the violence they faced wasn't real? what the actual hell is this accomplishing?

why are we acting like we own oppression and no one else can even come close to understanding what its like? come on now, we don't own the goddamn concept of oppression. we also don't own transness. i am sick to death of this idea that transfemininity and trans womanhood are the only "real" ways to be trans. we do not own the concept of transness. it's not just about us. "trans rights" applies to more than just us. it can't be about us all the time. WE are the ones being self centered right now. WE are the ones who are forcing the conversation to be about us in situations where it's completely and totally inappropriate.

we need to say it for what it is: we're fostering an environment where, at this point, only trans women and transfemmes are allowed to talk about anything queer related at this point. like can we call it for what it is? for some reason, trans men and transmascs aren't allowed to talk about trans manhood or transmasculinity at all. ever. they're not allowed to say a fucking peep. they have to shut up and listen to a trans woman explain it to them, because for some reason, the trans woman knows trans manhood better than the trans man. this is out of fucking control, we should not have trans women explaining trans manhood to other people unless they are also a trans man. this is just unacceptable. transfems attack transmascs who speak for transfems, and yet this is seen as good and the norm?

you are not cool if you hate trans men and misgender them on purpose. this isn't feminist. this isn't progressive. you're not getting back at the patriarchy- most trans men do not benefit from patriarchy and never will- you would understand this if you listened to them. instead of talking over and for trans men, and listening to people who talk over and for trans men, if you listened to trans men, the source, you'd understand that no, transmasculine lives are NOT easy and no, trans men do not instantly benefit from patriarchal society if at all, ever. if you listened you'd understand that T doesn't make people aggressive and hostile and evil. if you listened you'd understand that there are a lot of wonderful, loving trans men out there are who are not transmisogynistic just by virtue of existing.

nobody is saying that we want to you prioritize men over trans women when we talk about trans men's rights. we're not saying that we need to talk about men all the time and never talk about women, and that men are the only ones allowed to talk, now. we really have to let multiple people participate in conversations. we can't keep doing this thing where One Gender Has To Be Superior Over another. that's gender essentialism. why must you keep yourself trapped inside the binary like that? why are you so desperate to stay stuck inside of the machine that's trying to destroy you?

challenging someone else's transphobia is not being transphobic. challenging someone else's behavior is not hating them or their gender. criticism is not an attack on trans womanhood and transfemininity. transfemmes are trans women are not immune to criticism and we need to stop acting like we are. we're not. we've created an echo chamber where only trans women and transfemmes are allowed to talk right now and it's not transmisogynistic to point that out, because it's literally happening before our eyes.

if we're demanding that other people treat us better, why are we treating other people like shit in the process to get it?

stop silencing other people talking about other trans experiences. transfemininity and trans womanhood are not the only ways to be trans. stop forcing yourself into conversations you don't belong in. if you don't want trans men do that, don't do it as a trans woman. don't barge into conversations you have literally 0 stock in just to be rude and mean and make the conversation about trans women instead. let other people talk. this has gone on for way too long.

let. other. trans. people. talk. we shouldn't have let it get this bad. but i'm not letting it stay this bad. if you want to accuse people having genuine conversations about transness of being transmisogynistic just because they're not a trans woman, then feel free, i'm not gonna stop you, but i'm not listening to you. i don't care anymore. i'm sick to death of not being able to have REAL conversations on here because some people don't like being reminded that they are not the only people who suffer under cisheteronormative patriarchy. if you can't accept that you are not the only one who suffers under patriarchy and that men need to be liberated from patriarchy as well, then i'm not interested in having a conversation with you to begin with.

seriously, if any of this bothers you, please just block me. i'm not participating in these dumb ass little mind games anymore. i do not give a singular shit about offending people who think this behavior is okay. i spent way too long being afraid to speak up about real world issues because of shitty internet trolls. i don't give a fuck if someone you don't like speaking about their experiences hurts your feelings- you are the problem here.

this is affecting real people in real time and i care about that. i care about people, not stupid ideologies and fighting over who is or isn't "really trans". i care about people, not fighting over labels. open your mind and understand that is is about real ass people, and not just ideologies. trans men and mascs are real ass people. they're not antagonists made specifically to attack and piss off transfemmes and trans women. enough of this.

[orangeblossomsintheair]

MASTERLIST

! LN4

[ LANDO NORRIS ] — lando fingering you

[ BRAND AMBASSADOR ] — Sure, it had been a fun little joke, “Pay me in a LaFerrari or I’m not doing this shoot," but you never expected Lando to actually follow through.

series :

LIONHEART

[ 1 ] — He blinked, his aquamarine eyes wide with disbelief, before breaking into a grin so wide it could’ve lit up the whole room. “I’m going to be a dad?”

[ 2 ] — It had to be some kind of cosmic joke, you thought to yourself, the more you watched your son grow up. Nine months of carrying him, swollen feet, back pain, cravings, and sleepless nights, only for him to come out as an exact replica of his father.

[ 3 ] — “Happy Mother’s Day, Mama!” he shouted in his sweetest little voice, his face lighting up with pride as he approached the bed. He climbed up, his movements a bit clumsy as he tried to balance the flowers.

! CS55

[ ARMS ] — you wake up with your boyfriend's arm around your head

[ EAT ] — carlos eats you out

[ TEENAGE DIRTBAG ] — carlos' gf likes his old nose ring a little too much

[ DON'T BE A STRANGER ] — charles' younger sister accidentally stumbles inside the changing room of sainz, ferrari’s masked driver.

[ BUTCHERED TONGUE ] — carlos is going to teach you spanish whether you like it or not

[ WRITTEN IN THE SAND ] — He was too old for this. For you. For the way you looked at him like he wasn’t already years past the reckless abandon that seemed to define everyone else in this house. He shouldn’t have noticed the way your laughter sounded like sunlight, or how your smile seemed to tug at something deep in his chest.

series :

ILLICIT AFFAIRS

[ 1 ] — “Bossy, isn’t he?” The voice is smooth, warm, and laced with amusement. You glance to your left and—of course—it’s Carlos Sainz. You freeze, your brother’s voice echoing in your head like a siren: Run. RUN.

[ 2 ] — You tap on his profile again, almost like you’re double-checking to make sure this isn’t some kind of glitch. But no. Apparently, it’s real. You thought it was just a one-night stand. Maybe it still is. But who the hell follows their one-night stand’s Instagram?

[ 3 ] — You shouldn’t have said anything. You really shouldn’t have. But it’s too late now. “He sent me a dildo shaped like his cock,” you mutter under your breath, so fast you almost hope she didn’t hear you.

[ 4 ] — coming soon…

! MV33

[ honey, you're familiar ] — For a second, he thinks about turning around. Walking out. Pretending he never saw you, because what’s the point? It’s not like he can just waltz up to you and say, “Hey, sorry I ghosted you for no reason other than I’m emotionally constipated. Want to get a drink?”

series :

GRIEF ASIDE

[ 1 ] — You fancied your fiancé, you realized with horror. Oh, God. You fancied your fiancé.

[ 2 ] — coming soon…

[lohotine]

``A More Vulnerable Side of the Elusive Moon``

Shadow Milk Cookie x GN Reader

CW: Slight Angst, not heavily proof read

The moon only shines because of the sun; yet it claims that light as its own. It is as greedy as it is illustrious. It appears bigger than it actually is due to an illusion. If placed in a room alongside a certain jester, and you were told to point to the liar, which would you choose?

Despite all of this, you can't help but admire it all the same. Even with all of its flaws, how can one not acknowledge its beauty?

"Thinking about something?"

You turn your head away from the moon only to be met by another. This one has a blueish hue and a signature, masked smile to go with it.

"Nothing you'd find entertaining," you say to Shadow Milk.

He continues to stare at you, unblinking. Despite him only having two eyes, you feel the gaze of hundreds more still on you.

Shadow Milk takes a seat next to you, taking your hand in his nearly instantly. It's cold to the touch.

"Hmmm, you think too much," He takes a strand of your hair and begins to twirl it. "There's no need for all of these silly thoughts to be running around in your mind."

Ever the touchy cookie.

"It's nice to think sometimes," You'd respond.

Shadow Milk Cookie only rolls his eyes before releasing your hand. "But that's so BORING. The only thoughts you should be thinking about anyway should be about me!"

You feel him place his head on your shoulder, and though his face is not visible to you, you're sure he's pouting.

"In a way, I was sort of thinking about you."

He lifts his head and turns to face you, his signaturing smile returning just as quickly as it faded. "Really?" He sounds akin to that of a small child receiving a gift on their birthday. In response, you nod your head.

"Mhm..." You shift slightly so you are behind him before wrapping your arms around his waist and resting your head in the crook of his neck.

His expression is almost unreadable, yet there seems to be some sort of... annoyance.

"I'm always the big-spoon," Shadow Milk grumbles.

He hates to admit it, but he just loves to always be in control. Sure, this is a small example of it, but not having the upper hand in situations like this causes him to feel stuck.

Shadow Milk absolutely despises feeling stuck.

Even if you read through the dictionary one hundred times, you'd never find quite the right words to describe the disdain Shadow Milk experiences when it comes to feeling stuck.

"Just this one time please... I wanna hold you," you'd mutter.

Shadow Milk thinks it is absolutely pathetic how quickly he folds when you ask like that; yet it doesn't change the fact that he still does.

He may not have said it out loud, but him not moving out of your grasp was his own way of voicing that he would allow it.

Actually, it really was quite odd how quiet Shadow Milk was being. Normally he doesn't shut up.

But as you look up at his face, you can tell that something is different. He's thinking about something.

It's not like he never thinks, though. He thinks quite a lot, actually. He's just never so... obvious about it. So still... silent.

Perhaps he hates it. Perhaps he loves it.

Or... maybe a bit of both?

When it comes to Shadow Milk, it really is hard to tell.

"Thinking about something?" You parrot his way of speech from earlier.

His gaze locks onto yours. It's sharp and filled with something... Hatred? Confusion? Maybe it's something more innocent, like surprise. Whatever it is, it only lasts a moment.

One small, fleeting moment.

Then he's back to grinning, back to hiding behind that mask he's so carefully crafted.

You admit, you're not sure if you love him or the mask.

He, too, is unsure.

"You don't need to worry your little head about it!" He flicks your forehead.

"But I like to worry about you," You'd say.

And once again, Shadow Milk finds it absolutely disgusting how quickly he folds when it comes to your words.

Think about it; a beast such as him, falling for a mere weak, stupid, and frankly, rather gross mortal?

Just what would the other beasts think about him if they were to ever find out?

What would YOU think about him?

No, he simply cannot let you find out. Or anyone! But mainly you.

In fact, there isn't even anything to find out! Since he doesn't like you...

And as you observe him, you realize he's fallen silent once more. There's no grin or anything hidden on his face. He simply gazes at you. Admiring you, maybe? Staring? You're still not sure.

But you do know that this version of him is something different. A more fragile... more real version.

It's something you haven't seen before.

Perhaps it's even a more vulnerable side of the elusive moon.

AN:

This writing is actually pretty messy tbh, but this has been sitting in my drafts for like a week and I didn't know what to do with it.

I might write more using ideas from this, and hopefully that'll give me time to let all of this marinate.

I'm not sure how well the ideas in this work together, since there's a lot of them, but I still think they're pretty interesting to explore.

IE; Shadow Milk's fears, reader's doubt when it comes to loving a liar, and the comparison of SMC to the moon.

Idk what I'm even doing anymore tbh, but um yeah. Here's something to chew on IG

[leia-writes]

hi! i had a dream about this recently and was wondering if it would be anything you'd be interested in writing :)

it starts off with the reader and in-ho going through a really rough break up but they still have feelings for each other. right before the s2 games started, in-ho went to a bar and saw reader there and her job is to perform live music, so she sings about in-ho and their breakup, not realizing that he was actually there

Maybe You'll Be There

hwang in-ho | front man x reader

ao3 link

masterlist

song inspiration: maybe you'll be there by etta jones

note: thank you so much for your request!!

warnings: angst

“Get out.”

You glared through teary eyes at In-ho, who was standing in the middle of your apartment with a bouquet of flowers. He sighed and dropped his arms in frustration, a few petals and leaves falling to the floor.

“I said I was sorry. I really am.”

“How many times have I heard that? You’re a broken record at this point.” You turned away from him and began cleaning up your kitchen. It took everything in your power not to break down crying right then, but you were just so tired of doing this with him. 

“I know. I messed up again. I’m sorry. Please.”

You sighed, dropping a glass into the sink. It clattered noisily as you turned towards In-ho. “Please what? Please forgive you for the thousandth time? Please forget how you ignore me whenever something important happens for me? Please let you play with my emotions?”

He stood there silently, trying to mask the shame spreading across his face.

“Which one, In-ho?”

He clenched his jaw, looking away from you. He still wouldn’t say anything. With every passing second he was silent you could feel your heart breaking even more.

You scoffed. “That’s what I thought. Get out.”

He gave you one last look, tears starting to form in his eyes. You’d never seen him cry, never even close to it. You wanted so badly to run to him, but you had to be strong this time.

You watched him as he set your flowers down on the table and walked to your door. He looked at you once again. For a brief moment you hoped he would say something, anything to make it right again.

Instead, he left, closing the door behind him.

~~~

You cried in bed that entire night. It was supposed to be a good day - you had just performed a full-blown concert all by yourself for the first time ever. Even though you worked for a very dark and secretive organization, you always made it a priority to pursue your passion for music. As time went on, you started gaining a reputation for being an outstanding jazz singer, and you found yourself wanting to move on from your high-stress job and live a more normal life.

After winning the squid games you participated in a couple years earlier, you soon found yourself working for the same organization alongside In-ho. Despite his cold exterior, you got along well. You had been dating almost a year before you started running into problems.

In-ho worked as the Front Man for a while before you joined him. You had only been working with him for a couple years, and you didn’t really have the same connection to that place like In-ho had. You both went through something extremely traumatic by playing and winning the games, but it seemed to bond In-ho to that place when you couldn’t care less. In-ho seemed constantly tormented by his decisions, as if he didn’t want to be there but couldn’t help himself.

As you started becoming more popular, you didn’t feel the need to work for them anymore. You wanted to leave many times, but In-ho always convinced you to stay. He promised over and over that you two could make it work, splitting time between the island and your apartment. And he promised he’d be at every one of your performances.

A promise he was never able to keep.

There were so many nights like that night, where In-ho would show up late in the evening, well after your performance, begging for forgiveness and promising to be better. You’d cry in front of him, break his heart a little, fall for his sweet words, and then make up as if nothing happened. Then you’d have another upcoming performance that always happened to conflict with work, and fight endlessly about how you navigate your relationship. Repeating the same vicious cycle over and over.

You couldn’t stand to keep breaking your heart like this. The love you felt for him was undeniable, something you felt you’d never get over, but the pain was just too much. Tonight was your final straw.

The next day, you finally quit your job and started your new life.

~~~

In-ho waited outside the lounge, the cold, night air whipping across his face. His hands were awkwardly stuck in his pockets as he scanned the people around him, looking for her. He was reluctantly waiting to meet someone on a blind date, set up for him by an acquaintance.

He didn’t want to be there at all, but figured he needed to start putting himself out there. Or at least that’s what everyone else was trying to convince him to do. After looking around for another brief moment, he spotted her approaching him.

She was beautiful. But she wasn’t you.

Ever since your painful breakup, he was tormented by thoughts of you. He couldn’t help but remember you in the little things around him, even now a year later. It was a constant reminder of his failings, how he ruined one of the only things that was good for him and made him truly happy.

He knew he was pushing you away the more you wanted to quit. He knew he was hurting you every time he missed a performance, ignored a call, prioritized anything else over you. He knew you’d be better off without him and his baggage.

In fact, it seemed true. Ever since you had finally broken up, he saw you rise to a whole new level of fame. You were constantly putting on performances and releasing new music. He tried his best to ignore any news he heard about you, but in moments of weakness couldn’t help but look you up and try to get a glimpse into your new life.

She approached him with a smile and they entered the lounge together, sitting at a small, intimate table for two. The atmosphere couldn’t have been any more romantic - warm, low lights, candles and a rose on the table, drinks and conversation flowing with ease around them. He couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt, as if he was doing something wrong.

A waiter approached the table and took their drink order. Upon returning, he excitedly pointed to the currently empty stage.

“Are you here to see the show?”

They looked blankly at the waiter, and she asked who was performing. In-ho felt his blood run cold when he heard the waiter say your name.

You.

You were performing at the lounge tonight. 

He gave a polite smile as he internally screamed. “Oh, we’re just staying for a drink, so we’ll probably miss it, won't we?” He glanced at his date.

She scoffed. “What? Of course not, we can’t miss this! I didn’t even know she was playing tonight.”

The waiter smiled. “It’s a special one-night performance, just for us. This is where she had one of her first solo performances!”

The waiter and In-ho’s date chatted briefly as In-ho tuned out all the noise around him. The one night he tried to get you off his mind, he found his way into the one place in the entire city you’d be. He felt his heart rate quicken and his head start to spin.

Suddenly he was pulled from his thoughts. “Are you a fan too? You seem the type,” his date asked.

He snapped out of it. “Oh, uh,” he cleared his throat and sat up straighter. “Yes, I am.”

She smiled. “Great! We can’t wait.”

The waiter smiled and left. In-ho and his date casually sipped their drinks while making small talk. His eyes would dart wildly near the stage, anticipating when you’d appear on stage, wondering if you’d be visible nearby. 

“Are you alright?”

In-ho brought his attention back to his date, who had a concerned look on her face. He smiled. “Oh. Yeah, sorry. Uh… just a bit nervous, I guess.”

She smiled and sighed, relieved. “Oh god, me too. I’ve never done anything like this before.”

He laughed softly, but couldn’t ignore the uncomfortable feeling he had inside. He looked around, noticing how busy the place was getting as your performance was about to start. 

“Want another drink before the show starts?” he asked. The waiters were incredibly busy, and he needed an excuse to step away.

“Sure. Just the same. Thanks.”

He quickly got up and walked to the bar. It was filled with people getting their last minute orders in, but he took his time getting the attention of the bartender. Anything to delay having to go back to the table and put on a facade. How was he supposed to act once you began performing?

As he was waiting for the drinks, you arrived on stage. The entire place erupted with applause. In-ho wanted it all to not be real, just a dream he could wake up from at any moment. He wanted to look away from you, to keep his focus on the drinks he was supposed to be getting, but he couldn’t stop himself from turning to you.

It was as if all the air in his chest escaped at once. You were standing at the microphone looking like an angel. The lights had dimmed in the room, with a single spotlight illuminating your face. You scanned the room with a soft smile on your face.

“Wow. Thank you all for coming. I’ve never seen this place so packed!”

A quiet laughter sounded from the audience as you continued. “As some of you may know, this is the spot where I had my very first solo performance ever, almost a year ago now. I have so many memories in this place. Some good, some bad, but… that’s life, isn’t it?” 

You paused to take a deep breath. “Tonight I’ll be singing some of your favorites, some I even performed here that first night. And I even have a new special song I’ll be performing at the end for you. I hope you enjoy.” You smiled as the band started, the crowd applauding again.

In-ho stood still, frozen at the bar as you began singing. He immediately recognized your first song, remembering so vividly even now how you practiced it and played it for him over and over. He didn’t even notice when the bartender gave him his drinks.

Instead, he stayed there almost your entire concert, completely mesmerized by you. With the songs he recognized, it was like watching his memories in a movie in front of him, as if he was experiencing those feelings again just like before. And with your new songs, it was like getting to know someone he’d never met. He saw the parts of your life he had completely missed. It created a deep sense of loneliness and longing in his heart.

Before your last song, he finally became aware of himself and brought the drinks to his table. His date looked surprised.

“Oh. I thought you ditched me.” She scowled.

In-ho gave her an apologetic look. “I’m so sorry. The drinks…”

“The drinks didn’t take that long.”

In-ho sighed. “I know. I’m sorry, I got distracted.”

She sighed, taking a long sip of her drink. “You know, it’s fine. I was warned you might be like this, anyways.”

He was taken aback for a second. “What?”

“Your friends, they all told me they basically forced you into this.”

He scoffed. He wanted to defend himself for a moment… but they were right. He stayed silent.

“I just thought you’d have better manners than this,” she said, rolling her eyes.

He wasn’t sure what to say. Before he could think of something, you spoke before your last song.

“I want to thank you all for being here tonight. It means the world to have your support. Thanks to you, I’ve been able to make my dreams a reality. I’d like to thank you by playing a brand new song, just for you all. I wrote this recently, but it’s about what some of my life has been like this past year. 

“Like I said before, some good memories, and some bad. I wrote this to reflect on some of those bad memories, and hopefully let go of the pain with them. I’m sure some of you can relate, right?”

Many in the crowd nodded. “This one is called Maybe You’ll Be There. Thank you.”

As you began your song, In-ho’s blood slowly ran cold. He knew after the first verse you were talking about him. He studied your face as you sang, watching how your eyes would subtly flutter at particularly emotional moments. It was something most people wouldn’t pick up on, but he knew you. He still knew you so well.

Your voice filled the space with ease as you reached more intense moments, gracing the ears of the audience with your rich tone. Once you reached the last verse, a tear fell down your cheek in perfect timing. In-ho’s heart strained in his chest. He wanted nothing more than to run to you on that stage and wipe the tear from your face, and do anything to make you happy again, anything to make the two of you whole again, anything to heal the wound that festered over the last year.

He almost cried listening to the final words of your song, hearing how you wished he would come back. After everything you had gone through together, and all the time you spent apart, you still missed him. His heart broke - he didn’t deserve you, and you deserved so much better than him. And you said it yourself, that you hoped you could finally move on after releasing this song.

Although it pained him greatly, and forced him to defy the longing he felt in every fiber of his being, he knew you’d be better off without him. And so, after your performance ended, he politely excused himself from the date and went home. 

~~~

You entered your apartment later that night, pleasantly exhausted. It was late, but you were still buzzing with emotion. You hadn’t expected to become so emotional while performing your new song. It had been a long time since you cried on stage, but singing that song brought back so many painful memories that you couldn’t help yourself. Despite that, you were proud of having such a vulnerable moment become something beautiful.

You collapsed on your couch with a glass of wine, too tired to get changed just yet. The silence enveloped you. You remembered a year ago, the last time you saw In-ho in your apartment. The somber look he gave you as he left. The ensuing rush of tears and pain that you couldn’t keep in that night. 

And the painful ache of longing you’ve had ever since then.

You sighed deeply, finishing your glass of wine and willing yourself to stand up. Life goes on, you told yourself. You were well-acquainted with the act of ignoring your feelings and pressing forward. No matter how much you wanted In-ho to appear in front of you, it wasn’t going to happen. He never once tried to get you back in the entire past year. Maybe now you could finally let go.

As you walked to your bedroom, you heard a light knocking at your door. 

You stopped. Were you hearing things? The following silence was filled with tension.

You were about to dismiss the noise and continue walking when you heard it again, this time louder. Your heart was beating through your chest. 

Slowly, you walked to the door. Your heart leapt, as if you knew who was behind the door. You weren’t sure whether to cry, or get excited, or get angry. A flurry of emotions filled your mind as you grasped the door handle, turned it, and pulled the door open.

You froze at the man standing in front of you. His grief stricken face. Flowers in his hands. The way he breathed a sigh of relief. 

The way your heart breathed a sigh of relief.

In-ho.

[vanillarosekiss]

♡ p!link ♡

can you tell i'm really craving him right now?

warnings: smut, bsfdad!simon x reader, size kink if you read into it, age gaps, not considered very ethical to fuck your bsf's dad but... :b

He was so hot. Every time you came round your best friend's house, because her dad was so accompanying, you could never take your eyes off him. You'd often go home and touch yourself to the little interactions you'd had with him the previous day, which were all innocent of course. He was just so much bigger than you, so strong, and he was extremely good looking for a guy his age. A small part of you was self conscious of the fact it was deemed morally wrong to think of him that way, you felt like it was a crime against your best friend. Although.. it wasn't like anything was going to actually happen, right?

Another Saturday night rolled around and you arrived at their house, not bothering to knock before you went inside because they were used to you coming over so much; you even knew where the spare key was.

It got quite late fast, and after a long girly talk of boys, updating each other on love life's and doing face masks whilst eating a takeaway, you got changed into your pyjamas. You both slept in her room, usually watching shitty, low-budget romcoms before drifting off into a drowsy sleep, but tonight you were restless. You decided to wait until she was asleep, and got out of bed, careful not to make too much noise.

Going downstairs to the kitchen to get a glass of water, you made the awful mistake of accidentally bumping into her dad. Simon. The sheer size of him made it almost impossible for you to not lose your balance, and he grabbed your shoulders so that you wouldn't fall over.

"Are you ok? Sorry, I didn't see you" he said calmly, checking you were alright.

You blushed a little, and nodded without saying anything. If it wasn't obvious that you had a thing for him before, it definitely was now. He was bound to notice soon anyways, your night clothes becoming slightly more revealing each week.

Simon glanced down, noticing how much of your cleavage was on display, for him. He kept his hands on your shoulders, one hand toying with the light pink elastic strap of your pyjama top.

"You don't have anything else to wear?" he asked, in what you thought was a judgemental tone.

"I- No I do, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to.. like.." you rambled and trailed off, flushed with embarrassment.

"M'not complaining, love, don't worry your pretty head" he said reassuringly, before moving behind you and gently leading you into his room to the ensuite bathroom, lower hand grazing your back lightly.

"What are you-" you began, turning but only to be met with a view of his chest.

"You want this, yeah? I'm not stupid, I can tell when a pretty thing like you wants something."

You hesitated, before giving a small, unsure nod.

"Gonna need more than that, sweeth'art."

"Yes. Please."

"Good girl." he praised, before locking the door and stripping you down completely naked for him, making you turn and admiring your body.

"So pretty. Wanted this for so long, haven't you?"

You were still shy, and stood not really knowing what to do with your hands.. hell, with your entire body.

He took you carefully and got you down on your knees, before pulling his already leaking cock from his boxers. It was big, too big. It would never fit. He could immediately see the panic in your eyes, and tried to calm you down.

"S'alright, baby. I'll go gentle on you, I promise. You tell me if it hurts too much, or you get uncomfortable, okay?"

You nod, swallowing a little anxiously.

The next thing you know, you were swallowing his cock, as he guided your head down carefully. His hands caressed your hair, in an almost soothing way, so as to make you feel safe with him. You were definitely not as anxious anymore. Just took a little praise and soft guidance from Simon.

He pulled you back before he came, making you sit on his thighs before plunging into your already soaking core, stretching you out in ways you never imagined you could be. It was hard to take at first, but it quickly became pleasurable, him using you like a little toy. Thrusting you up and down on his large cock, hands grabbing at your waist and squeezing you as he hit your g-spot over and over again.

"God you feel amazing." he groaned, thrusting fastening at the sound of your preciously soft moans. He adored how little and delicate you were, so pliable in his hands.

It was safe to say that the next day, his looks and subtle lingering touches were no longer innocent. You were his pretty little secret, and unless you no longer wanted him, it would stay that way.

Tag list: @punkkture @soapisgod @slut-lmao @sebastianstans-slut @ilikeoldmen @g1rlfa1lure0 @queenoflaflames @tmartin0918 @kkloubee @goldie-221 @patricksoulmate @writingandsins @mxnee777 @caro-line19  @decaffeinateddelusionbread @poohkie90 @lovidovii @xoxoxoaspen @i-ship-stony-and-superfamily @simonrileysdarling

[withlovemark]

you were never mine

warning(s): none

pairing: minho x reader

words: 400+

an: hi friends, anyone here watched xo kitty? i know this is a little different from your usual steve harrington fics but i cant get this cutie out of my mind, i had to write something :)

summary: minho's on tour and you're a back up dancer on tour with minho's brother. you are also minho's childhood friend turned best friends (with benefits). but thats all there ever is! really!

-

hands entangled in the hair of the boy towering above you, lips in sync, minho's warm hands leaves a burning sensation around your waist as he pulls you in closer and closer - the feeling of want escalating throughout the enclosed space of his hotel room. sounds of his tiny whines and grunts occupying every second of your headspace, until… 

“kitty-”

you quickly push him away, halting every movement. silence. 

“what did you say?,” you asked, in shock of the name that slipped past his lips. 

“i-i said…pretty,” minho stumbles over his words for a second before his confidence returns, standing his ground and twisting reality. 

“you’re joking right?,” you let out a sigh, sitting up at the edge of his bed as he quietly joins you, slightly afraid. 

sitting side by side, you decide to end his torment, playfully nudging your shoulder against his “i knew you still liked her,” you giggled and he lets out a sigh of release, quiet laughter mixing in with yours.  

“i’m in trouble aren’t i?,” his shoulders droop down, looking like a defeated puppy, awaiting your answer.

“why don’t you tell her?” you suggest to the broken hearted boy beside you. 

“i already did that remember,” he reminds you. 

“how could i forget?...you facetimed me as you were leaving the plane and complained for a straight six hours about how much she’s missing out and that you’re the best there ever is and blah blah blah” you smiled at the memory, remembering the sadness in his voice, one that he tried so hard to mask off by playing it cool. 

“it was actually five,” he corrects you, the two of you bursting into another fit of giggles. 

“i also remember,” you say as the laughter dies down, “that you confessed to her literally the same day she broke up with dae,” you remind him. 

“yeah, and?...she still rejected me,” he argues back. 

“well, time can change things y’know?,” you point out, “but this thing between us is not gonna help you get the girl,” you continue, catching his attention. 

you knew that if you really wanted your best friend to be happy, you would have to spell this out for him.

“are you giving me away?” he playfully smirks, eyes on yours, as gentle as ever. 

“you were never mine,” a quiet laughter escapes your lips, replaced by a sad smile. a snap back to reality that this - this thing between the two of you, was never meant to be. 

pressing one last gentle kiss on his lips, you savor the feeling, completely aware that it's over. 

“friends?,” you whisper against his lips, forehead against his. 

“friends.” he agrees, pulling away and sharing a smile of recognition.

his heart belonged to someone else and just like every other kiss with him, there were no butterflies in your stomach flying around when his lips touches yours.

but still, it was good.

it was safe and comfortable, and completely…over. you tell yourself. 

-

an: im such a kittyminho shipper im not letting you have him. sorry! requests are open for minho fics! thank you for reading<3

[mtcloudsworld]

𝑵𝑶𝑻 𝑺𝑶 𝑯𝑼𝑺𝑯 𝑯𝑼𝑺𝑯

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 | black!fem reader intended BUT could be anybody, vigilante!reader, stake out kind of mission, boyfriend!Jason Todd, suspicious!dick grayson, edited but if you see any errors please ignore, ty!!

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 | He told you. He actually told you. I can't believe it...

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑 | drabble for the brain. Enjoy lovebugs!! :)

𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐒𝐎𝐍, didn't think he had it in him. He didn't think it was gonna work out. Not that he didn't ever have faith in his little brother, he just figured since 𝐉𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐎𝐃𝐃 was more reserved with his feelings, admitting them to a love interest seemed ideal. But it worked out perfectly and that's what's mind blowing. And just like any other older brother out there who wants there siblings to achieve every and anything, he was proud to know he successfully passed this test. But what he wasn't happy about was that he found out a month later???? ON ACCIDENT??? He was just strolling through the manor when he heard giggling coming from the kitchen. Seeing you seated on the stool, across from the isle was Jason preparing dinner. The manor was supposed to be empty tonight since everyone was doing their own thing, Dick was supposed to be with Barbara but had to drop off something for Bruce before heading her way. There was a bunch of chatter on whether you two should tell the others or not. Should this be hush hush? Jason wasn't too keen on people meddling in his business and you didn't mind whatever decision he made. You were willing to keep it under wraps until...whenever, until he was ready. Alfred had already known, Bruce had his suspicions about it but didn't have the heart to ask. He knew how reserved Jason was. He figured whenever Jason was ready to tell him, he was all ears. Dick on the other hand? Not so much─ Did I mention Alfred was there too? He's the one who helped Jason set all this up, but you obviously didn't need to know that, and now Dick was trying to figure out how in the hell he was going to bring this up.

Frequent eye contact. subtle, hidden touches here and there, always so close─ hip to hip. He noticed every little thing, and as much as it swelled his heart to see his brother try to be affectionate for your sake, he was a detective at heart and he had eyes everywhere.

No doubt you two keep it professional but the way you and Jason have been acting lately, isn't the usual behavior he's used to. Missions have been more intense, on the edge, there's more caution and frequent check-ins between you two.

The constant eye contact is what keeps him on edge, and when you think no one is watching a quick brush along the fingers when passing by each other or holding each other's hands till your fingers slide past seemed a little too romantic in his opinion.

But it told him everything.

It let him know something...

"You told her, didn't you?"

He asked in the middle of patrolling.

Currently placed between two gargoyles, they scaled over the streets in search of something major in solving this case.

With his arms crossed, Nightwing was leaned up against the triangular shape roof with his eyes nowhere near his target but on Red hood, who happens to be leaning over the ledge in support of his foot with his forearms rested over his knee.

"What are you talking about?" He asked, his voice modulated a little bit more deeper than usual.

His eyes focused on a particular street. Two u-haul trucks full of cargo brought into an abandoned warehouse by a bunch of goons dressed in all black suits and masks.

The obvious, Black Mask associated.

"You told her you liked her," Nightwing states, trying to clear up the confusion, "didn't you?" He pushes himself off the roof to come a little closer.

"What makes you think that, detective?"

"Because, you two have been acting all lovey dovey lately. I even overheard you two talking with Alfred about last Friday night, date night to be exact? You even made Alfred's most famous chicken Alfredo and garlic bread knots?"

Through Jason's mask, Dick could feel his eyes piercing through his thick skull. Might even be throwing daggers, but either way it was clear he was not happy with him eavesdropping on their conversation, nosey ass. "You think I don't notice, Todd, but I do. I've been watching, I've been paying very close attention to you two."

"Tch," Jason scoffs with a shake of his head, pushing himself off the ledge with his foot now rested on the roof, "so what if I did? What's in it for you? It's not like it's any of your business, Grayson." He renders, crossing his arms to make himself look a little bit more intimidating.

"Because I felt my ears burning like crazy last week, Jaybird," Nightwing claims motioning towards his ears, "and they were hot as hell! You guys were talking about me, huh?" Jason's eyes roll with a heavy, annoyed sigh and Dick put his hands on his hips with a tilt of his head as he gleams, "Let me guess, the doll mentioned how I knew you possibly, maybe, might have a crush on her and vice versa?"

Sigh, "not everything is about you, boy wonder." He moves to the other side of Dick for a closer look at the street.

"Stop projecting and just spit it out already!" He whines in deep agony.

"Hey, a little less chit chatting and a little bit more eye searching, okay? I just saw two more trucks pull up on your 6." You suggest through the coms.

While Dick was thinking upon his next words, Jason took it upon himself to get a closer look. Now in between the dark and wet alley, his steps were silent as he knelt behind the brick wall watching as the men store the boxes inside.

He heard a grappling hook click and then a splash of a landing from a distance, till they came a little bit closer. Luckily the two weren't that close to the warehouse for the goons to hear them.

Silence.

"..."

"Y'all are dating, aren't you?" He presses one more and Jason groans, "Oh for Christ sake, Nightwing, let it go!"

"No, Red, I will not let it go! Just admit it. It'll make my life so much better if you'll just say it."

"What? So you can lavish on the idea that you possibly had something to do with us being together?" He then scoffs bitterly, "Yeah, no, not happening."

Out of habit, you found yourself butting into the conversation and vocalize, "twelve o'clock, babe."

Before Jason could respond the way he wanted to, it took him a second to realize what you just said. A second for him to whip around with wide eyes, hearing a sudden 'oop!' through the coms and a curse underneath their breath.

It dawns on everybody the obvious.

The answer to everybody's question.

And with haste, Dick's jaw drops and immediately his whole body turns to see Jason frozen in place.

"bAbE?!"

Jason's eyes widen as he stands up and expresses, "Doll!"

You make a 'yikes' look cringing a little to the sound of Jason's panicked yet annoyed voice.

"Oop, sorry..."

Feeling a tad bit bad, you were honestly stiffling a laugh at your little slip up.

Though you couldn't physically see him, you were positive his face was flushed right about now and was shaking his head in slight embarrassment as Dick was going off on a little tangent.

Tim, alongside you, could only smirk and chuckle, declaring, "Oh yeah, y'all are most definitely together," before jumping off the roof into the dark alleyway with you following in pursuit.

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃

𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐋 ©𝐦𝐭𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝𝐬 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓

[eyelambspider]

Stream Starting Soon! || COD Hcs

⤷ summary : 141 just so happens to watch some of your streams !

┊pairing : tf141 x twitchstreamer!reader ┊content warning : fluff, pining, sfw, swearing (by me smh) ┊a/n : again, a prompt recommended by @lady-boketto that had me in a chokehold

honestly, who knows how it starts... but one day gaz and soap figure they've both 'off-handedly' seen one of your clips and liked you.

the two of them talk more about your streams after that.

a murmur between two friends... occasionally holding their phones up to show each other new clips and vods of yours...

maybe they both secretly sub to your channel without the other knowing...

whatever the two of them 'chat' about though, ghost and price initially don't pay them much mind

until soap finally shoves the phone into ghosts face and forces the masked man to watch

ghost actually quirks the smallest grin under his mask at one of your clips

its you playing a horror game and getting scared (he loves your horror streams)

price on the other hand, picks up the chatter about you and fills in the blanks himself

each of them thinks your cute, with ghost and price usually having their eyes on your webcam instead of... whatever game you're playing

Once, price caught the three of them huddled together. supposed to be gearing up for a mission. And instead its Soap and Gaz sitting shoulder to shoulder, snickering to themselves and nudging each other knowingly while Ghost stands, glancing occasionally over their shoulders while pretending not to care. When caught, they expect price to scold them, but the captain just sighs and nods "Come on then, lets see it"

they all watch it.

soap actually gifts some subs to you, just to rub it in everyone's faces that you thanked him and said his name

yes, he plays the clip to annoy the others. its saved in his phone "just for that reason"

ghost and gaz eventually follow you on your other platforms, but only gaz would bring it up in conversation

ghost cannot be caught looking personally at your stuff

price on the other hand, just likes to relax on his off days. remembering how calming your voice is when you're 'just chatting' or playing something relaxing and falls asleep with your streams playing in the background

(opening fan mail) soap would send a gag gift to you (him and ghost snorting as they watch you open it)

ghost would get you a stuffed animal/plushie, which he's surprised to learn that the little thing is still sitting on your desk, in full view of the webcam.

they all think its fucking hilarious when you rage, slam shit, or just turn away to cool off

(hear me out) all their phones pinging-in sync-to notify that your stream is starting...

[igotanidea]

(7) Cheater: Dick Grayson x reader

part 1/ part 2 / part 3 / part 4/ part 5 / part 6

A/N: ladies and gentlemen I give you : THE FINALE! happy early b-day @pookieisme4life 🎁🎁 (I was about to wait till 24th but it turned out impossible I am so excited to post it!!!)

***

„Who the hell are you?”

Honestly, he could care less about the ID of the mystery person, nor he hoped for the actual answer, but the initial shock did just that.

They were driving towards some unknown destination that was allegedly the location of the place Y/N was taken to.

“Nice try, Nightwing. Keep dreaming” the person, who was already deemed as a woman, laughed, swirling abruptly yet skillfully.

“Seriously you can’t just expect me to address you in a hey, you way.”

“Valid point. For the sake of it, let’s settle on calling me Shadow.”

“Fine. Whatever. Now why are you helping me?”

“I did some bad things In my life. Maybe this is my way of making up for them.”

“Huh. Seeking redemption?”

“Pretty nice trope, isn’t it?” she laughed. It was actually pretty nice to be able to use humor even in dire situations. “I was always a sucker for the character who wants to do better in their life.”

“Yeah. At least you chose a better way to do so than my brother.”

“You mean Red Hood?”

“For someone I don’t know shit about, you seem awfully knowledgeable about my family ties.”

“Intel is everything, Nightwing. And yes, I know what your other brother, Red Robin, might say.”

“Who the hell are you?!” At this point Dick was really getting curious.

“A friend.” She responded, looking right at him, her eyes shining from behind the mask.

***

“Let me go!!”

“Easy princess. Behave or this might actually get worse for you.”

“LET ME GO!!” she struggled against the binding on her wrist and the sack put on her head.

“What did I tell you, you bitch!?” She was abruptly pulled out of the car and thrown onto the ground. “Do you have a death wish?!”

“Fuck you!”

“If I were you, I’d cooperate, you little slut. Otherwise we might have to scar that pretty face of yours more than it’s necessary.”

With a sharp movement the sack was torn off her head and she had to squint her eyes from the light that hit her eyes with excessive force, reinforced by the fact she had just spent god knows how much time in a dark car with eyes covered.

“Shit…” there was no possibility to hold back the hiss and a few tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Yes. Yes sunshine, you’re in deep shit.” The kidnapper kneeled to her level and caressed her cheek in a condescending gesture, obviously misreading her tears as a sign of fear and submission. “So pretty…”

“Piss off!” she acted instinctively, ending up with a slap on the cheek and stinging sensation that only added to her anger.

“Didn’t I tell you to behave?”

“I had a stinking sack on my head, maybe there was something wrong with my hearing at the time and – “ her head spun to the side as another slap, this time far harder landed on her cheek.

“Well you definitely heard me now. And if you didn’t I won’t hesitate to remind you again. Now get up, we’re taking you to the boss.”

Great.

She was in a freaking video game, when two brainless thugs captured her for a reason that was still a mystery to her and was now taking her to the den of a final boss on the level.

***

“Y/N Y/L/N.”

Should she even be surprised that said den had a design of a video game? Dark, cold, adjourned with different kinds of weapons scattered here and there, huge desk in the middle and three monitors that took up the entire wall?

Almost grotesque.

But hey, who was she to judge the taste of Gotham’s criminals, right?

She probably should have been terrified, praying to every higher power to be saved by Batman, Red Hood, Robin or – damn – even Poison Ivy in the worst case, but for some reason she couldn’t bring herself to that particular emotion. It was like her brain refused to anchor in reality and everything turned into a freaking dream she was sure to wake up from any second now.

Though maybe getting back to reality in which Dick was still with Sienna and she was brokenhearted wasn’t really a good alternative.

Right. Dick.

Did he even notice her gone? Or was he too busy patching things up with his girlfriend, already forgetting about Y/N? The girl he claimed to love?

A kick in the back of the knees that send her to the floor (again) made her realize that while getting lost in her thoughts she missed the obviously very important and very detailed speech of the villain who was describing his wicked plan to take over the world and –

“Ouch!”

“Stupid bitch.”

“It hurts!” she tried to squirm away from the kicking but it was immensely hard with her hands still bound.

“Hold the fire, boys. Easy. The lady is our guest after all and this is not how we treat guests, is it?” The goons chuckled darkly, because clearly guests were deserving of a far more cruel and brutal treatment. “Now, now, don’t be scared little one. We won’t hurt you. Much. At least not until you give us what we want.”

The owner of a deep, husky voice, who clearly was the host of the party finally decided to step forward and show his face.

Well.

Not exactly showing his face.

***

 “Could you at least tell me who we’re dealing with here?!” Dick muttered, keeping his voice low as he and Shadow pulled at the abandoned building on the outskirts of Gotham. “Do you even know?”

“Why? Does it matter?” Shadow joked “Would you use a different contingency plan for Riddler and another one for Two Face?”

“Could you please stop joking about it? This is my girlfriend we’re talking about!”

The emotions started to come to the surface, and Nightwing started becoming uncharacteristically scatter-brained.

“Idiot. Keep it down!” Shadow hissed, pulling him behind the corridor crease, miraculously avoiding the watchful gaze of the guardian. “Here’s what I get for putting myself at risk. Nightwing announcing his presence to the entire compound filled with criminals. Get yourself together. Or is it too hard for you?!”

Dick grimaced. He hated himself at the moment. For both losing his cool, especially in front of someone who could hold it against him and for missing on precious time since every second counted.

“Y/N. Think about Y/N.” he muttered to himself “She needs your help. Now more than ever.”

He took a few deep breaths, calming down the storm inside him to the point where he was actually in control and capable of turning the fear and concern into anger.

If anyone touched his Y/N….

“You back?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m back.” He opened his eyes, completely focused, eyes sharp, instincts on high alert. “Tell me who’s the fucker who dared to take her.”

“Black Mask.”

“Fucker.” The word left Dick’s lips without the involvement of his brain. That was how much he loved her. The golden boy, teasing, joking and playful nightwing turned into a machine, swearing and ready to freaking kill, almost Red Hood like.

“So? Ready to kick some asses?”

“After you.” The predatory smirk blooming on his face was a sign of incoming violence and spilling blood.

***

Her screams mixed with the ones coming from the corridor in a beautiful, gory cacophony of sounds. An ode painted with blood and pain. Maybe that was why for a longer moment no one in the room actually paid attention nor was willing to try and differentiate the sources of notes in the song.

 Or maybe it was the fact that the goons’ cries were extremely high-pitched, almost reaching the same key as the yelling of a woman trapped in the torture machine, losing strength with every passing second.

“Oh no, no, no, no.” Black Mask laughed cruelly “you don’t get to pass out on me yet. Info first.” The iron grip on her wrist tightened even more, as if that was even possible, cutting into skin and muscle, amplifying the blood loss.

For the last whatever-time-passed she was kept on the edge of consciousness as if Black Mask was hoping that choking, hurting and injecting with some substance would cause her to lose inhibitions and finally blurt out the information he was so dead set on getting.

Who is Nightwing.

Who is Batman.

Any piece of information would turn out to be useful, but since the beginning of the questioning it became painfully clear that that stupid girl was either too weak or too strong to answer.

Too weak because it seemed that even the slightest amount of pain made her repeatedly pass out and too strong because on those intermittent periods where she actually was conscious and aware of the surroundings enough to talk was the one making her extremely stubborn and uncooperative.

And Black Mask was losing his patience.

Here he was, gracing that little scum with his presence instead of submitting her to the treatment of his lower men, with less than gracious methods and she had the audacity to be bratty.

A vicious circle in which he was using the moments to get information only to be refused, beating her again and ending up with a thoughtless body, achieving nothing, over and over again.  

He should have just stuck to using his rat, skillfully planted in Gotham.  

“Fuck!” he yelled seeing as once again she went limp on the chair only because he pulled her nail. “Stupid bitch!”

“Mmmmm…” Y/N muttered and for a moment the room was completely quiet save from her little whimpering.

And then –

“OUCH!”

“FUCK!”

“RETREAT!”

“The hell?” Black Mask walked to the door and looked through the peephole. “Fuck!” Seeing his guards and men being thrown in different directions, sounds of yelling and snapping bones alongside with blood streaming on the floor was not the best view before 7 p.m. and definitely not the best without his favorite drink. Under any other circumstances he would be giving zero fucks about the violence outside the safe door, but now – he had a plan to complete and no one, fucking no one would prevent him from succeeding.

The loud sound of a door’s guard crashing with the metal surface and pictorially sliding down with crushed skull caused Sionis to quickly recalibrate his plan.

Seemed like Red Hood was in the house. And not that Sionis was scared, but-

“Hold them back!” he yelled, grabbing the limp body of Y/N and rushing towards the safety exit, to the roof where his private jet was landed just in case of emergencies.

And this was clearly an emergency.

***

The door broke about 30 seconds after Black Mask rushed to the passage.

“You carry explosives with you everywhere?” Dick muttered, equally impressed and shocked.

“What? It comes in handy and -”

“AAAAH!” Both goons rushed at the two vigilantes before Shadow could finish a sentence, but their brave loud cries quickly turned to quiet, broken sobbing as they were laid down.

“Be a sweetheart and tell me where he went?” Nightwing leaned over the goon with an almost soft smile.

“mhm…” inert waving towards the passage was enough of an answer.

“Good boy. Thanks.”

***

“NO!!” she yelled as Black Mask was dragging her through the roof. Sudden realization of all the things that could go wrong making her much more valiant and strong. As long as she was still in Gotham and not exported to another city or – god forbid – country – could result in being deemed as another missing-without-trail- person.

That is – if someone was even looking for her in the first place.

Tears pricked in the corner of her eyes at the thought that she could be so easily forgotten.

And the terror she was holding back for so long, since the moment of being dragged into that black SUV, finally found a way out…

“NIGHTWING!!!”

***

“Y/N!!”

A dead man would hear that cry and even a dead man would rise from the dead at the sheer desperation beaming from the voice.

“Y/N!!! I’m coming!”

***

“You’re becoming a trouble!” Black Mask hissed, slapping her repeatedly, drawing another stream of blood this time from the broken lip.

“I – “

“I’m so done with you. Should have just killed you the second you turned out to be of zero significance to the cause. Now come here you little bitch-“

“No!!”

She blindly started to run away, only to trip (obviously) and ending up back in Sionis’ grip.

“NO!!”

He was too strong and she was too scared and stiff to fight anymore. Digging heels into the ground did no harm and was definitely no hindrance in being pulled towards the ledge of the 10-stories building.

“NO!!!!”

“Y/N!!”

Both the girl and Sionis froze for a moment as another male voice cut into the screaming match.

But it was too late.

***

“Go!” Shadow was probably the only one who didn’t lose cold blood.  “GO!”

***

She was falling.

And it was beautiful.

Knowing that she would finally be free of all the pain, of all the heartbreak, of the guilt coming with betraying another girl by sleeping with someone else’s boyfriend. Liberated from being stuck in the memories of the past when she was actually happy, before everything went to shit.

“I love you Dick…” she whispered, finally crashing to the ground.

***

“Who the hell are you?!”

“Oh, come on, not this again!” Shadow hissed, extremely dissatisfied with the fact that everyone she encountered was far more interested in getting to know her personality, rather than fearing her killer skills.

For Black Mask it took a record time of ten minutes before calling defeat and ending up bound and being taken by the GCPD.

***

“Y/N.”

She opened one eye and much to her surprise found out that she was not a celestial body looking at her bloodied pulp of a body on the pavement.

“I love you too…” the warm embrace around her was welcomed but in time started to become a little suffocating and her battered body refused to be squeezed.

“Dickie…”

“Shh… shh, I got you.” He whispered again, caressing her hair, kissing her forehead, doing everything to assure both her and himself that it was all over and that he got her, that she was safe and he would never let it happen again. Never.

“H-How? W-what happened-? I – I thought-“

“You thought so little of me, didn’t you?”

“Idiot.”

“Hey!”

“Fucking prick! I swear if it wasn’t for this – “ she swung her injured arm in the air “I’d slap the hell out of you!”

“I saved you!”

“I almost died and you’re making jokes!”

Oh. Right. Maybe, just maybe given the circumstances it was slightly inappropriate.

“Sorry.”

“Yeah. You better.” She pouted, but he knew better, wiping the unshed tears. “It’s over.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

“What happened?”

“I’m an acrobat, remember? I jumped. And damn, I wish someone had that on video because it was really one of my best – Ouch! Ouch! Ok, ok! Stop it! Point taken!”

***

“How are we doing here?”

Once Sionis was seated in the back of a police car, hands were shaken and words of gratitude exchanged Shadow walked towards Dick and Y/n.

“I think she’ll live.” Dick teased with a smirk, predictably moving a safe distance away from his -- .

Right.

Maybe there was no happy ending after all with that messed up relationship thing hanging over their heads like a freaking axe.

“Can’t say the same about Nightwing though” Y/N pushed the thought away, settling on sending him a death stare for making fun of her again.

“Good. I’m glad.”

“I think you made up for whatever crime you were trying to redeem, Shadow. Thank you. I owe you. You saved my –“

“Girlfriend?” Shadow prompted, looking between Y/N and Dick, making them both blush in a bit of embarrassment.

“It’s complicated-“ they both said at the same time.

“Oh, trust me, it’s not complicated at all!” Shadow laughed

“What do you mean? You don’t know-“

“I know more than you think. Haven’t I proved that already?” Shadow turned around, making sure no one was watching and slowly took of her mask.

***

Fast forward. One week later.

Y/N was walking out of the hospital. It seemed like her arm was healing nicely and there were no complications, though her doctor was very stern while telling her she was supposed to rest and not get herself involved in any form of physical activity.

If he only knew that she was in a relationship with Gotham’s and Bludhaven vigilante.

“Y/N!”

Speaking of which, said vigilante was now honking at her from his Porsche.

“Showoff!”

“Get in loser, we’re going shopping!

She laughed and jumped inside the vehicle.

“You’re supposed to hold the doors open for me!”

“Mh. Missed you too, sunshine.” He leaned over the gearbox kissing her with a cheeky grin. “How’s the hand?”

“She’ll live.”

“Quoting me already, princess? Careful, I might think you consider me a superstar or something.”

“Idiot!”

“Ouch! You’re hurting me. But I’m willing to forgive you, giving the circumstances of late.”

He started the engine and took the way to the city.

“Yeah. Crazy, right?” her head fell onto the car’s headrest and she sighed heavily. “I mean – who would have thought…”

***

Flashback

“S-Sienna!?”

“Hey you two.”

“h-hey? What do you mean “hey”?! What is this?! Some sick joke?!”

In her stupor Y/N missed the fact that Dick was as shocked (if not more) as her. Hence it couldn’t have been any conspiracy against Y/N’s mental health.

“Whoa! Whoa! Relax!” Shadow Sienna raised her hands in surrender “Dick-“

“The hell?! How do you know? Damn it-!” he forgot about all the rules of safety and tore off his mask. Getting to the bottom of this shit was far more important.

“- I meant what I said. Really! About that redemption arc! Just – just listen to me!”

“Five minutes.”

“It was all a scheme-“

“Well let me tell you, your explanation is starting off the wrong foot” Dick groaned, pulling Y/N to his side to strengthen her mentally.

“I am Black Mask’s niece in the second line!” Sienna explained dramatically “wait-! Wait-! I have no loyalty to him! Not anymore!”

“One minute left.” Dick hissed

“It was all a plan. He had some vague idea about the ties between the one Dick Grayson and Batman and Y/N and wanted to use all of you against each other.”

“Thirty seconds.”

“Yes, fine! I was his spy for a moment, but then you two-. God! You love each other! And I just couldn’t- I couldn’t-“

Y/N wriggled out of Dick’s embrace and walked to Sienna, grabbing both her hands in her healthy one.

“Thank you.”

End of flashback

***

 “I really hope you took your golden visa with you, cause I am about to go crazy with this shopping spree.”

“Hey. No limits on Bruce’s cards. He won’t even notice the loss of a couple thousands and I got my girl back, so-“

“I think we should send-“

“I already took care of that.”

After all the trouble and drama they got their happy ending.

***

In another part of town a certain girl found a fruit and sweet basket on her doorstep. With a little, but meaningful card.

It seemed like she found her happy ending too.

One in which she was no longer used by anyone and treated as a villain.

With the view for a future of freedom.

@miraculous-panic @fullbelieverheart @xlatinaaxx @ietss @arfrona

@gracescor3 @jaysgirlx @fuzzym4m4 @peachmartini @xenop0p @madness1999sworld

@leovergurl

[thegreyjoyed]

Hidden bird in a pub

John Price x Reader

Cw: Reader is called “Bonnie” and “Bonnie lass” /hinted at being a woman — NOT PROOFREAD or edited

Idk the word count because I wrote this in one sitting in the notes app

Reblogs and comments appreciated!

You and John had been married for several years now, having dealt with him and his bullshit (as you lovingly put it) for “far too long”.

You two had met when John had been freshly promoted to a lieutenant in the army. Actually, you had met the day he had become a lieutenant while he was out celebrating it at a local pub you worked for as a bartender and a busser on slower days.

You still remember his order, a pint of the most expensive beer you had at the time and the soup of the day- a loaded baked potato soup served with a quarter of a baguette and some bacon and chives.

It had been your recipe for the soup as the pub was family run and a well beloved place in the community. You were connected to some local breweries and bakeries who you would get freshly made bread from for your cheeseburger buns, bread bowls and sugary sweets.

You remember being rather enamored by this man- John, you learn later on in your shift. You thought he was handsome, and he had been hitting on you much of your shift either way. At the end of it, he had earned himself a date with you and from then on, it was history.

Now you and John had been married a decade and you had been there for all of his achievements and all of the military balls. However, once he became a captain and had his own team(with the exception of Simon) he had you carefully hidden away so he could truly separate his work and personal lives.

You and John had built a strong life together, if you so wished- you didn’t even have to work and could just be at home. You stayed at your job, eventually becoming a general manager and helping out wherever. You knew all of the regulars who had been there for many years now and some “newer” faces of regular’s wives and even children with how long you worked at the pub.

The bell rung around five in the evening. You looked up and chirped out a greeting, surprised at seeing your own husband followed by Simon with a black surgical face mask and two others you heard of. Johnny and Kyle, you would guess by the haircut on Johnny(?) and the darker skin on Kyle(?).

You picked up four menus and two drink menus and made your way over once the men seemingly got settled. It was slowly becoming busier, it was a Thursday night afterall.

“John! My favorite regular, Simon, how good to see the two of you. And some newcomers!” You said with a bright smile, handing over the menus to the men. Simon looked at you, his eyes narrowing at you. John smiled and nodded, “Aye. These are my sergeants, Johnny and Kyle.” He introduced, pointing to each of the two younger men.

“Hey there.” Kyle greeted nicely, a simple smile on his face before he returned his gaze to the menu to look over all of the food options. Johnny gave you a toothy grin, “Hey Bonnie.” He grinned in return, “Anything you recommend?” He questioned

You hummed, tapping your signature pen- an army green pen engraved with your husband’s initials in gold- on your chin as you thought. Something you had stolen from him a while ago- a pen he had actually been looking for. John narrowed his eyes a little at the sight of the pen, knowing damn well it was his.

You moved to the side a little and pointed at the menu. “Our soup of the day today is fantastic, it’s a loaded baked potato soup, can be served in a bread bowl or a normal bowl and comes with a quarter of a fresh baguette from a local bakery. It’s one of my favorites.” You say and pull back from the side.

“John, would you like your usual with the soup of the day today then? Simon, usual?” You question to the two men, pulling a little notebook out to write the order.

The two men nod and grunt out their yes’s. You write the order down, “Just let me know when you two are ready to order, I’ll put it all in at once.” You say with a smile as you pull away from the table.

Johnny and Kyle look at each other and then to the two older men. “How long have you two been coming here for that Bonnie lass to recognize you?” Johnny questioned as he leaned in a little. John gave the younger man a look, “Over a decade now.” He answered and Simon shrugged a little. “Seven years.” He grunted out as he pulled his surgical face mask off.

Kyle raised an eyebrow, “Over a decade, Cap? Is it that good of a pub?” He questioned. John hummed gruffly, “You’ll see.” He answered simply. “Kyle, did you see her pen?” Johnny questioned, nudging the man beside him.

“Yeah? What about it.” Kyle questioned as he flipped through the two menus presented. “Look at the damn menu, idiot.” Kyle muttered to Johnny, nudging him back. Johnny clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes as he looked at the menus as he was directed to.

John leaned back in his seat, taking the time to admire you as you helped around, budding food and taking orders and stepping behind the bar occasionally. A few minutes later you came back, pen and notebook in hand. “Everyone decide on what they want?” You question as you approach. “Birdie, you’ve got my order and Simon’s.” John murmured, earning a sweet smile from you before you turned to Johnny and Kyle.

The two men got their orders out before you smiled and dipped away. Kyle gave John a look, “Birdie?” He questioned, his gaze dipping to John’s left hand where his silicone wedding band was, the real ring sitting around a chain on his neck with a pair of his dog tags.

“Yeah? What about it?” John questioned in turn as their drinks were delivered by someone else, you were busy somewhere else and out of sight. Kyle hummed, gazing at the wedding band quietly before looking back to his captain and where you were, now in sight of the men.

John huffed a little, shaking his head, “You’re smart. You can figure it out.” He muttered into his drink, a tall pint. Johnny looked at Simon, who just gave him a look. A look like he thought Johnny was stupid.

“That’s your wife? How come we never met her before?” Johnny burst out, getting a glare from Simon. “Because I don’t want my bird in danger.” John grumbled as you came back over with a tray full of food. You began to set the food down carefully, giving each man their orders.

“Bird. When did you take this from my office?” John questioned, snatching the army green pen you had in-fact stolen from him. “Few months ago.” You answer with a sweet smile. “I’ll give you it back when we’re home.” You muse in return.

John rolled his eyes and gently squeezed your hip, you had to leave after a few minutes of conversing with the table to help the rush. Eventually the rush died down and your shift soon over. Your husband had left a bit ago after squeezing your hip and giving you a quick kiss after paying the bill for the lot of them.

Eventually you headed home, your husband had beaten you there. You shut off your car and head inside with the army green pen tucked into your pocket as you pull your keys out and unlock the door. You step out of your shoes and venture into your cozy home.

John came from upstairs, looking freshly showered in his boxers and a bit sleepy. “Hello there, my loving husband.” You muse as you approached and gently grabbed his waist, pressing a kiss to his lips.

John lazily smiled and kissed you in return, “birdie..” he rumbled lazily as he pressed kisses all over your face and your shoulders. “Y’smell like beer and grease.” John muttered, making you laugh. “Yeah okay, big bear. I need a shower.” You giggle and gently shove your husband away to go upstairs to shower in the lovely master bathroom the two of you had designed together.

You got your shower, your husband had been scrolling on your phone while sat on one of the plush shower mats there were. “Are you fucking up my algorithms, big bear?” You tease with a laugh as you dry off and dry your hair off. You got your pajamas on, one of his shirts and some of your underwear.

John grumbled and shrugged a little as he followed you like a lost puppy. “I like messing around on your phone.” He answered as he crawled into bed after putting your phone to charge.

You laugh a little as you got in beside him and earned yourself another kiss as he nuzzled into you. “You’re so lucky I love you far too much.” You mused softly as you two kissed gently on the lips, the taste of spearmint in both of your guys’s mouths.

John groaned into the kiss as he slowly rolled you over onto your back, flattening you as he always did. He nuzzled into your neck and kissed your throat. The two of you settled and eventually fell asleep, just like that.

[aventurineswife]

WAIT WE CAN MAKE SUGGESTIVE REQS???? I DIDNT KNOW THAT

ok so like aventurine x reader

and hummmmmmm

bro actually idk

ILL READ ANYTHING WITH AVENTURINE LMAO

“I am yours”

Summary: In the quiet of a shared moment, you and Aventurine find solace in the unspoken connection between you. Though Aventurine’s guarded nature keeps his emotions hidden, his subtle actions speak volumes, conveying a truth he cannot say aloud: even in the waiting, he belongs to you.

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Emotional Vulnerability, Subtle Romance, Mutual Understanding, Quiet Intimacy, Found Family Themes.

Warnings: Mentions of Survivor's Guilt, Brief Allusion to Past Trauma, Themes of Emotional Guardedness and Subtle Angst.

A/N: that's what you get for not reading my rules 🧍‍♀️... Also I already wrote a suggestive which was almost discreet smut Aventurine.. and I had this lying around so have this instead.

The room was quiet, save for the soft rustle of paper as Aventurine shuffled a deck of cards between his fingers. The precision in his movements was mesmerizing, each card flipping effortlessly into place, as though they were an extension of his will. The air carried the faint scent of his cologne—spiced cedar and a hint of something sweet, like smoke curling from a forgotten ember. He hadn’t spoken in a while, content to let the silence stretch, unbroken but full of meaning.

You watched him from across the room, the dim light casting faint shadows over the sharp lines of his face. His eyes seemed fixed on the cards, but you knew better. Aventurine rarely focused on one thing; his mind was always two steps ahead, weaving possibilities and contingencies, playing a game no one else could see. But tonight, there was no pretense of strategy in the air.

You felt the weight of his attention even when he didn’t look at you, as if his presence reached for you in quiet moments. There was an ease between you, the kind that grew only in the absence of demands. And yet, it wasn’t easy, not really. Being close to Aventurine was always like this—a careful balance, a gamble where the stakes were never entirely clear.

The cards stopped mid-shuffle, and his hands stilled. He leaned back in his chair, his golden rings catching the light as he rubbed the edge of one thumb against the deck. You noticed how his other hand had slipped behind his back, a habit you’d come to recognize in moments of tension.

“Waiting is part of the game,” he once told you. His voice had been light, a teasing lilt that made you smile despite yourself. But it was a truth he lived by—every moment, every pause, calculated with the precision of a master gambler.

Tonight, though, the waiting felt different. Not the cold calculation of a man biding his time but something quieter, softer. His body language betrayed him in small ways—a flex of his fingers, the way his foot tapped once before stilling. You wondered if he was thinking about the words he couldn’t say, the ones he might never find the courage to.

But you didn’t need them.

You shifted closer, your steps slow, deliberate, as though moving too quickly might shatter the fragile stillness. When you stopped beside him, he didn’t look up. Yet, the tilt of his head told you he knew you were there, as he always did. His presence was magnetic, like gravity pulling you into orbit, and you felt that familiar tug deep in your chest.

For a moment, you stood still, unsure of what to say, if anything. The words hung heavy in your throat. He made everything feel like a gamble, even something as simple as reaching out.

Then, as though sensing your hesitation, he shifted slightly, his shoulder brushing against your leg. It was the faintest movement, almost imperceptible, but it carried a weight that words never could. You didn’t need to hear him say it, didn’t need him to look up with that confident smirk that masked so much.

“I am yours,” his actions whispered, even in this silence, even in this waiting.

The weight of it settled over you, not oppressive but grounding. You placed a hand on his shoulder, the fabric of his coat warm beneath your fingers. He didn’t react outwardly, but you felt the tension ease ever so slightly from his frame, like a gamble that had just paid off.

And for a while, neither of you moved. Waiting, perhaps, but no longer alone.

[theshadowsingersraven]

Just some POV to support OP: I don't think anyone here would doubt that I love Azriel. And I absolutely did this in my own writing.

Loving a character doesn't just mean blindly wanting surface good things for them. It can also mean wanting them to face the music for their actions and becoming better for it. This is how I handled Azriel rightfully feeling shame for how he treated Lucien:

Azriel deserved that. He knew he deserved that to the point where he felt an apology creeping up his throat. But his pride snatched hold of it before the traitorous words could leave his lips.

Lucien sighed. “Perhaps one day you can view me as Solara does—a friend. Not just a cage thrust upon Elain, demanding her compliance. I've never thought badly of you until now, Azriel.”

Friend.

Azriel was purposely hurting Solara’s friend, purposely choosing each word as if it were a torture instrument. As if he were no better than the witch she'd sacrificed so much to kill. And a part of him knew that, deep down even then. How disgusted would she be when she learned of the other aspects of his work? For how Azriel was speaking to her friend? Solara would be furious, so disappointed, and—

“I…” he found himself fumbling for words he had no desire to say, but everything in him screamed that he needed to say something. Needed to remedy the harm he caused, even if it was only for the spiteful words he'd just spewed. “I couldn't do what you do. If I were in your position…it would kill me. I do not know how you are not miserable.”

“I never said I wasn't. It doesn't particularly feel good to see your mate falling for a male who gets to be around her. Who she can actually tolerate. Not that you have to worry about that with your mate. You had the privilege of knowing her, being her friend first. You knew what her laugh sounded like and how she liked her coffee before you tasted her fear and panic. I was not so lucky.”

Azriel averted his gaze, keeping his mask of indifference in place despite the tempest of emotions whirling in his chest. The shadows hung off of him instead of curling up like normal. They were probably as exhausted from this day as he was.

As their gazes finally met again, Azriel didn't say anything—couldn't, really. It's not as though Lucien was wrong.

After a pause, the russet-haired male sighed. “I'm not going to lie to her for you, Azriel. That's all I'm saying.”

“Understood,” Azriel murmured, his nostrils flaring slightly, wings tucking in tighter.

Lucien turned on his heel and made his way toward the front door. Azriel watched him close his hand around the ornately carved knob, and then he found himself taking a slight step forward. Found himself saying despite his pride's protests, “I judged you sooner than what was wise. You…You are an honorable male. More honorable than me, I think. By a large margin.”

It wasn't an apology. The Mother knew he was too prideful to apologize, but this was something, at least. And though he doubted this was what his shadows had in mind when they told him about singing the truth, they seemed to perk up a little. Azriel also knew that it was a rather lackluster comment despite the fact that it was enough to give Lucien pause. He heard the slightest sigh come from Lucien, and he looked over his shoulder back at him.

As he pulled the door open, the emissary said, “Well, I believe that is perhaps the one thing we agree on. Farewell, Azriel.”

Azriel’s hands flexed at his side. He deserved that, too, really. Deserved every word from Lucien's mouth, and deserved worse, probably. But he had to keep trying—had to do better. Be better. Even if it was just so he could stand next to his mate and not feel like he was so undeserving of her and the fire she embodied. The fire that seemed to warm and melt every frigid layer of ice he put around himself. And if Azriel wanted any of this to go well, he needed to at least feel like the male Solara would finally find underneath all those protective, icy walls was more than his scars, his anger, and his bitter jealousy. Azriel wanted the male underneath it all to be worthy, no matter what it took.

I really want Azriel to know and feel for himself the depth of the mating bond, so that he feels shame, true shame, for what he did to Lucien.

[dcdreamblog]

Greetings. I’ll admit, I have no way of knowing for sure how much of what I’m about to ask would really be in your usual wheelhouse, but I couldn’t help but wonder if I could ask for information on the Teen Titans…or more specifically, the lineup featuring Dick Grayson (when he was still Robin and hadn’t yet become Nightwing), Starfire, Beast Boy, Raven, and Cyborg. You see, I’ve been a HUGE fan of this team ever since I saw the ‘dramatized retelling’ cartoon about them from the early 2000s as a child. And I’ve not only continued to remain a fan of such in the years since, but also worked to try to gain as much knowledge as I could through reading as many sources as I could find and making educated speculations from there to the best of my ability. However, in light of just how knowledgeable you appear to be, I was wondering if you could give an explanation on the history of that line-up, how accurate that 2000s ‘dramatized retelling’ cartoon was compared to the real thing, and what those five in particular are currently up to nowadays (up to and including their current relationship status if such isn’t too gossipy for you, as I’ve always felt that Starfire was a better endgame girlfriend for Nightwing than Barbara Gordon and am also a proud believer/supporter of Beast Boy and Raven as a couple (though I’m willing to be respectful and not push anything if reality doesn’t match up with my dreams), not to mention have great interest in the rumors I’ve heard about Cyborg and that friend of his named Sarah Simms who runs a social group for disabled kids)?

P.S: Apologies if I got overly rambly in this ask… :/

I'd love to tell you about the Titans but I think you may be falling into something of a common conspiracy theory. Because the Gotham tabloid often get this bee in their bonnets about Bruce Wayne secretly being the mysterious Batman, that of course leads them to bothering Wayne's adoptive children with his first ward, Dick Grayson assumed to be the first Robin and later Nightwing. As is shown by these conspiracy theories (like the equally popular theory that Superman is secretly Daily Planet reporter and Lois Lane's husband Clark Kent) our understanding of who our costumed protectors seem to be in their private lives is seldom as straightforward as we think. This of course goes the same for businesswoman Barbara Gordon who seems to get sucked into this quagmire by virtue of being the daughter of beloved Gotham police commissioner James Gordon. That being SAID, and with groundwork laid, let's talk about the "New Titans"

(The cover of a comic album produced by Detective Comics. Detective has tried to do this "real superheroes as comic stars" thing a few times and it's never been very popular. No wonder they're #4)

(A promotional image of Cartoon Network's "Teen Titans" animated series) While I do enjoy what was done with this series, a lot of the same creatives who worked on the classic MAU cartoons also worked on this. It's not what I would call a first person historical document. First of all, obviously it's line up isn't fully correct. Showing only Robin, Starfire, Cyborg, Beast Boy and Raven as the "main team" whereas the team's actual membership in that era included the first Kid Flash and Wonder Girl. The cartoon also treats this team as the first assemblage of the Titans, when that is also not true in a historical sense. Robin specifically had been a member of said original Titans alongside Kid Flash, Wonder Girl, Aqualad and Speedy. (Who all appeared in the series, save Wonder Girl for some odd reason) I do find it amusing that the show was never able to show Robin without his mask on, because obviously the creative team couldn't know who Robin was beneath his mask whereas the personal details of the other Titans have become at least partially historical record. Again conspiracy theorists love to claim the show contains hidden clues pointing toward the Bat-Wayne theory but I roll my eyes at that as much as I roll my eyes at it anywhere it pops up. (Some particular wingnuts have even chosen to insist that the invented character "Red X" is meant to map onto Wayne's deceased second son, Jason Todd. Which is a theory that is well enough buried simply for being in such poor taste) Most of the stories used in the series are either partially or fully invented, and even what events ARE shown that have a foot in truth are shown DRASTICALLY out of order. Sometimes related to censorship, such as real life mercenary and contract killer Slade Wilson AKA Deathstroke being renamed to simply "Slade" and having his profession softened for television. The Doom Patrol is shown as originally captives of the Brotherhood of Evil, whereas in reality during the show's run the entire team save for Beast Boy himself was assumed KIA after their confrontation with the Brotherhood outside Four Heroes, Maine. They wouldn't be fully reunited with Beast Boy until years after the show's conclusion. I was too young to remember this but I've read anecdotes about the Markovian people lodging protest about American actress Ashley Johnson being cast to play Terra, when the real life Terra was obviously Markovian just by her accent. As well as the softening of her portrayal from a knowing and malevolent traitor to the team rather than a misunderstood victim of Slade's manipulations. There was a short lawsuit involving Neil Richards, aka fashion designer "The Mad Mod" due to his portrayal on the show. while Richards did indeed conduct some rather odd criminal activities, he had, by the time of the show's airing served his time and had founded the now famous "Mad Mod" fashion empire. The suit was settled out of court by Richards who made the public statement "I don't want to be the bad guy, attacking the children's favorite cartoons. I just don't want this all to be summoned on top of me again." The only note he asked of the production is that the episodes never speak his legal name. Though the production went the extra mile of changing the character's appearance for the real Mod's famous ginger bob and green smoking jacket to a crimson bowl cut and union jack coat. As for the modern "fates" of these five, they're all rather simple I'm glad to say. All five are still active superheroes, still close friends and still highly trusted members of the superhero community. As for their romantic entanglements, I couldn't comment on that. Not only am I historian, not a gossip columnist but the personal lives of superheroes are kept rather close to the chest. For the most prominent reason that any public knowledge of their romantic attachments would place those people at terrible risk.

[kkpaaw]

So we're all in agreement that Jay absolutely has depression right? That his laughter and jokes is just a mask to hide his feelings right?(I mean this part is basically confirmed)

God Jay u make me so siiick

Cuz he fr would be the type u have to regularly check on to make sure he's actually alright

Cuz it's easy so easy to forget to do so when he so easily and effortlessly masks how he truly feels behind his jokes and laughter and smiles.

That his anxiety isn't the only thing you have to be concerned about

He's one to keep masking to keep pretending until he literally just can't anymore and breaks and when he breaks its bad. His break downs are awful and explosive in the beginning, his powers going haywire as they respond to his emotions and try and protect him. And he's just crying and screaming and that lovely smile of his so full of life is just gone and in its place is a dreadful frown that seems endless with how deep it is. But them afterwards its like he..shuts down. It takes him so long to recover from his breaks and the entire time his family is just scared for him, cuz he seems so...dull and unresponsive. They are unable unwilling to leave him alone in fear he'll do something drastic-

But when he does recover it's almost scary how much he makes it seems as if he never had that breakdown to begin with

If it wasn't for the explosiveness of his breakdowns that cement themselves in his families memories you would have had no idea he ever..broke

And that honestly scares the others more.

So they make sure to have regular check ups with him especially Cole and Nya.

Safe to say....it's not long before he's officially diagnosed with depression

Once I again u say Jay u make me so sick