#than it was for him and people are so vocal about how grateful they are of him like???

[torgawl]

never thought i'd see people try to argue or analyse wriothesley's murder in regards to his personality. i think people are missing the point. the situation has nothing to do with him and has everything to do with an extremely traumatic environment that made a small boy think the only solution so save himself and the people he cared about was to take the life of his abusers. it's not supposed to be rational, it wasn't premeditated, it wasn't about getting away with it. if you read his description of the murder you can see how out of it he was. his goal was to protect himself and his siblings and that's what he did. that's why he admitted to the crime so easily and why he is keen to associate the fortress as a rebirth place. he was just young, lost and traumatised and that's about it when it comes to the extension of it all.

[chibinasuu]

Zoro x Reader ― by the fire; cuddling

part of the cozy holidays event

🎁 ― @kyllium tags: sfw, pure fluff, established relationship, GN!reader, no use of y/n

Roronoa Zoro was not and had never been a cuddler. 

…or so he claimed. 

As you sat on a log by the bonfire, in a banquet after the Straw Hats successfully liberated yet another kingdom, Roronoa Zoro was clinging to you like his life depended on it. 

Sanji was running around trying to find a cam-snail, hoping to capture the moment for future blackmail material. Robin was giggling quietly to herself, amused by the swordsman’s uncharacteristic behavior. 

The green-haired man was too drunk to care. 

He had (foolishly) challenged Jinbe to a drinking contest, which he had obviously lost, badly.

The fishman was chatting happily with the locals across the clearing, seemingly unbothered by the unholy amount of alcohol he had just consumed. Meanwhile, his opponent had entered a relaxed, half-drowsy state that he always found himself in whenever he drank more than he should, which admittedly, was not often. 

You could only sit frozen in space, cheeks burning, trying to avoid Nami’s gaze as she teasingly made kissy faces at you. Your arms were tight on your sides, trapped by Zoro’s thick ones wrapped around your figure. His face was buried in your neck, and your breath hitched when you felt his lips brush once, twice, against the sensitive skin. 

You were no stranger to Zoro's touches. He had his affectionate moments whenever the two of you were alone, but in public? The most he had ever done was hold your hand in front of the crew. 

“Zoro,” You whispered, “People are watching.”

“Don’t care.” He mumbled as he nuzzled closer to you, “Let ‘em see how much I love you.”

You couldn’t stifle the smile that crept up your face, but Zoro was apparently not done talking yet. 

“Do you know how much I love you?” He slurred as he pulled his head back to look at you, his smile as soft as you had ever seen it, “I’m so in love with you, it‘s making me dizzy.”

You decided that you liked drunk Zoro. 

The man was not exactly vocal with his declarations of love, so it was always nice to hear him say it out loud once in a while.  

You laughed and wriggled your arms out of his tight grip, using them to pull him even closer to you. You gave him a small kiss on the top of his head, “I love you too, Zoro, but that’s probably the alcohol making you dizzy.” 

You know your beloved swordsman would probably be mortified by all of this tomorrow – if he could even remember anything – but for now, you gladly basked in his affection, despite being slightly embarrassed yourself. 

You let him lean on you as he rested his bones  – he deserved it after today's long battle. The crackling of the dying fire only added to his drowsiness, and you could see his eyelid fluttering, struggling to stay open. 

You stroke his hair gently, playing with the spiky ends on his nape. Zoro sighed out your name, muttering a couple more I-love-yous into your ear for good measure. His hand on your waist subtly slipped under your top, his thumb drawing lazy circles on your bare skin. 

As the flames slowly turned into embers, you were grateful for the darkness that hid your flushed skin and dilated pupils. 

“Zoro, are you asleep?”

A soft grunt indicated that he was still awake, but barely.

“Do you want to go back to the ship? You should get into bed and get some proper sleep.”

He answered with a deeper grunt. You were fluent enough in Zoro’s grunts by now that you knew that meant ‘yes’. 

After bidding good night to everyone who remained at the banquet, you half-led, half-dragged Zoro back to the Thousand Sunny, with your arm wrapped around his waist, and his arm slung around your shoulders.

You didn’t complain about his massive weight bearing down on you – not when he stopped every few steps to press tender kisses to your cheek.

a/n: this is practically a self-indulgent fic that feeds into my headcanon that zoro gets extremely affectionate whenever he was drunk

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊ main event page || event masterlist ₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

[hughiecampbelle]

The Boys Preference: Dating After A Toxic Relationship

A/N: Not requested, just an idea I had 😊 Remember, requests are open! Be sure to read my rules and please respect that I'm only interested in writing for these characters. Thank you! Feedback is always appreciated 💜

Butcher is very vocal. He knows you jump and scare easily, so he always makes a point to say where or if he's going to touch you, if he's upset and why (so that you don't worry you're the reason), when he'll be back, etc. This takes a lot of trial and error between the two of you. Butcher is an angry, violent person. You knew this going into the relationship. There's always a worry it could turn on you, and that's what he fears most: that you'd ever be afraid of him. He reassures you constantly he would never, ever hurt you. He knows all about what your ex did. You wanted to be up front and honest, knowing some of your behaviors might seem strange or out of place. The last thing he ever wants to do is emulate your ex and though it takes a lot of rewiring and assessment of his actions, he's trying to be better for you so that he doesn't lose you.

Hughie hates what your ex has done. Bit by bit, you give him the overview of your relationship, what they were like, and how they treated you. Sometimes you jump or flinch and he's reminded all over again that, despite what he does, there will always be this underlying fear and distrust. It took a long time to date him let alone tell him everything. He's patient and gentle and makes sure you're okay with every step you take further into the relationship. He takes every relationship show regardless of past history. When you see your ex again you have to pull Hughie away, not wanting him to start anything. He can't help it. He looks at them and he sees red. He's filled with disgust and hatred. Hughies always been on the timid side, but the thought of someone hurting you like that boils his blood.

Annie never wants you to feel like you have to hide that kind of thing from her. She knows all about power hungry people who take advantage of others. Still, she can't believe it. You're kind and funny and sweet and you always have everyone's best interest at heart. You know what it's like to get hurt, you wouldn't dare hurt someone else. She knows you don't want any trouble with them, you just want to move on, but she can't help but light up when she sees them. Secretly she goes to them and makes it known if they so much as look at you, even think about you, they're done. She's always asking if what you're doing is okay and wants to be as open as possible about boundaries. You're grateful she likes innocent touching, mostly hand holding, and when you're having a hard time you know she'll grab your hand and squeeze it, reminding you she's always here for you.

M.M knows all about your ex. He was the one to help you get out of that relationship in the first place. Since then you've become really close, so close he's now your boyfriend. After your ex shows up at your work one day, Marvin decides to take things into his own hands. The Boys make a special appearance at their apartment where they make it known they are never to go near you ever again. You have a lot of fears about trusting someone again, especially in a relationship, but M.M. is patient. He never wants you to feel like you have to do something you don't want to or aren't ready for. He's more than okay with taking things slow. He actually prefers it that way. He's extremely protective over you and, unfortunately, are his biggest weakness. If Homelander ever found out about you, M.M. would be done for.

Frenchie met your ex a few times before you broke things off. The way they spoke to you, wanted to control you, all the sings were there. He feels awful that he didn't see it sooner, but you could never blame him. You're just glad you got away from them. Frenchie is attentive and devoted and males sure you're comfortable with every step in your relationship. He offers, jokingly though not jokingly, to have your ex killed when they start sending calls and texts and emails. You assure him it's okay, you'll handle it. He knows you're more than capable, but he's always got a back up plan ready just in case they want to try anything more. He's extremely patient when you decide to tell him. He knows there's more to the story than what you're sharing, but he doesn't push it. He's grateful you shared anything at all. It's a big step and means a lot that you'd trust him.

Kimiko is learning to trust just like you are. You've both been through a lot, but you find a great solace in one another. Kimiko isn't sure who this random person is that shows up looking for you, only that the rest of The Boys are suddenly cagey, angry, and very protective. They're grateful you're not there. When she asks about them, you finally tell her. You dated a while ago and it wasn't a safe relationship. You thought you could get away from them, but they seek you out. They like to know they're in control. She feels awful. You're genuine and smart and sweet. Those terrible things that happened to you only made you softer and, unfortunately, more prone to anxiety and distrust. She leaves it up to you to take the next steps in your relationship. You appreciate more than you could ever put into words. You love her, but you need to take things slow.

Bonus! Homelander killed them a long time ago. The moment you showed up in his life, he knew there was someone who'd hurt you. It takes a long time to tell anyone, let alone him. One day the phone calls and texts and emails just stop. They stop showing up at Vought looking for you. You think you've finally scared them off or perhaps they got bored, but it was actually your new boyfriend. Normally he'd like to boast all about how he tortured them, h9w easy it was to kill them, how stupid they looked when he pulled out all their teeth, but he knows you wouldn't like that, so he keeps it to himself. He knows no one will miss them. You certainly don't. You're sleeping better now and getting more comfortable in your relationship without the constant threat of them showing up or following you. Homelander rests easy knowing they can never hurt you again. He lacks a lot of self-awareness in this department.

[vrisrezis]

Atsv characters realizing they’re in love with you

Gwens on the verge of tears, it’s the first time you’ve ever seen her like this in all the time you’ve known her. You’ve known gwen for almost your entire life, and never once have you ever seen her in such a state of affairs.

You suppose it’s reasonable, she lost Peter and she thinks she lost her father forever, the only other people she ever had. And then there’s you. Somebody she felt such deep emotions for even if she was unaware how deep they ran.

There’s so many emotions and so many thoughts running through her head, when she sees you for the first time in what feels like years.

You don’t say anything.

You stare at her, the state she’s in.

Your movements are slow and meticulous, calculated. And she wonders if you’re doing that because you’re cautious, because you’re scared of her.

“I don’t know what dad told you.” fear drips from her vocal cords, “but I promise you,” she’s desperate, wanting your touch so badly but fearing you truly saw her as a monster too, “I would never, ever, kill Peter.”

the building you’re both on, feels so much darker than it really is. It feels like she’s revealing herself to her dad for the first time all over again. She wants to cave in on herself but she fights every need to push you away because she needs you in her life.

“And believe me, I wanted to tell you! I did! I really did!” she tries desperately to explain, finally letting a tear slip out.

As soon as she let one go, it became a waterfall of tears.

“I love you.” she says, voice barely above a whisper, taking you both by surprise.

She realizes what she said, but she doesn’t dwell on it for much longer. Because she realizes, finally, what she said was true.

And now that she finally knows what it is she’s truly been feeling for you all these years, it hurts even more to look at you and not know what you could possibly think about her. She wishes she knew what was going through your head, she wishes she could just tell what you were feeling by searching your face but she just can’t find anything. She doesn’t know what you make of this. She doesn’t know if she’s going to lose you today.

“Please.” she feels her lips wobble, she knows she’s going to completely break down if you don’t say something, anything, in the next minute.

All she’s met with is more silence.

Miles knew he had a crush on you, sure. That simply made sense, it was common knowledge to anyone that wasn’t an idiot. Well, except you. But miles didn’t think you were an idiot, just maybe oblivious. It’s not like he minded, he was grateful that he liked the one, singular person in this very world that was oblivious enough to not catch onto Miles’s adoration for you.

Miles talked about you a lot, admittedly. His parents were naturally happy he had found an actual friend that wasn’t away, that wasn’t ganke, and that clearly made him so happy. In fact, Rio mentions how she’s never seen her son so happy to talk about somebody. She had teased him a few times, and although miles tried to deny it, both her and Jeff knew he liked you a little bit more than a friend should. Though, a little bit is a stretch. He liked you a LOT more than a friend should.

And man, when you finally met them. Ohhh boy.

Miles had tried to prevent it for so long, in fear his parents would embarrass him, even worse if they didn’t like you. But he had been delaying the inevitable long enough, and the time had finally came.

In the past, Rio had teased him about being in love. Of course, miles denied the fact. He had a crush sure, but love? That’s a lot, isn’t it?

But seeing you interact with his parents, getting along with them so well. Even with his dad?

He just can’t stop staring, and while normally Rio would be concerned, she simply walks over to her son with a knowing smile.

“I think Im in love.”

“I know, mijo”

Hobie had a rough day, to say the least. Being spiderpunk, spiderman, was tough. And as much as he complained about it, he was perfectly content with the way he went on living. Especially since it had given him the power to protect you, and fight for his beliefs.

But regardless it was sometimes a painful experience, being spiderman. The gash on his side wasn’t too huge, but was deep enough to cause him pain anytime he walked. Swinging around wasn’t much better.

He decided to swing by your place, since it was closer to him and while he hated the idea of bothering you while he was in this state, hated the idea of worrying you, he knew it was the best option if he wanted to get back to fighting as quick and as painless as possible.

He lets himself in through the window, as always. He walks over to your hunched over form at your desk, peeking over. “Biochem?” he asked aloud, and you, unbothered, simply nod. “Yknow you should really start locking the window sweets.” he says with a grin, and while you’d normally be annoyed by his remarks, you notice a strain in his voice that makes you look up at him.

You’re quick to stand up, “hobie! Jesus what happened to you!?” you said, ushering him into your bathroom so that you can get your first aid kit.

He sits down on the toilet, before shrugging. “Stuff..”

you’ve fixed him up before, but this was a little different. There was a change in your demeanor. It wasn’t out of this world for you to worry for him, but this felt vastly different this time around.

You were so kind, so gentle with him.

In his mind, he’s undeserving.

The warmth of your hands on him, was the only thing he could think about. Not even the pain of literally being stabbed could compare to how electrifying your touch felt.

Perhaps it was the blue led lighting in your bathroom or the loss of blood but, you looked so beautiful right now.

“I think I love you.” he whispers quietly, staring into your eyes.

Staring back, you can’t help but think you love this idiot too.

Pavitr is an idiot when it comes to romance, whether he likes to act like he’s good at it or not. He is not as smooth as he pretends to be. He realizes this anytime he tries to shoot his shot at you. He fumbles with his words and has to come up with some excuse as to why he needs to leave in that exact moment, immediately. Even pretending to flirt with his best friend, gayatri, doesn’t work. He does it so well with her, but when it comes to you he just cannot articulate his words. He finds himself totally lost.

It doesn’t take an idiot to figure out his feelings for you are strong, and that his feelings go deeper beyond friendship. You seem to be the only moron in all of mumbattan that hasn’t noticed, and he’s not sure if he’s grateful or in great agony.

One of the biggest reasons he was so obvious about how he liked you, was shown through how clingy he was. Physical affection is his love language, after all. But it goes beyond that, he always finds himself wanting to spend time with you. He even insists on walking you home even when his house is in the opposite direction, his excuse being that he wants you to get home safely despite being in broad daylight. It’s still a dangerous world out there, is his reasoning.

But it’s been so long since he last walked you home. When you were kids, he did it all the time. As you grew older, the tradition seemed to stick but as he became spiderman this occurrence became less frequent. It’s been months since he’s been able to do this.

The sun is bright, but it hits your face perfectly. And he can’t help but think you look like some ethereal god. Given his line of work, he doesn’t think it would be that weird if you were one.

He feels like he can’t breathe, and he doesn’t even realize its cause he’s way too focused on you, every little feature. Your hair, eyes, your nose, cheeks, mouth. Anything he could possibly look at on your face, he’s looking. He’s not listening to a word you’re saying, he watches your lips move but he cannot catch a damn thing. The grip he has on his bookbag becomes tighter, his face feels hot and he wants to say it’s because of the sun but he knows that’s not true. God, has your laugh always been so pleasant to the human ears? Or was that just him?

His lips move, before he even has a chance to stop the words from coming out, like word vomit.

“God I love you”

[elllisaaa]

desperately need you to make a jihoon version for bf thoughts huhu 😭😭😭

BF!JIHOON who sometimes gets lost in his own world, but you're always here to bring him back to reality, and he never fails to show you how grateful he is for you.

music takes such a huge part of his life, it's impossible for him not to involve you in all of this. he tried to keep it away at first - because it was work and he didn't want to annoy you. but as soon as you show him that you're interested in what he does, in how he produces his music, jihoon is more than happy to introduce you to his universe. he makes you sit on his lap while he explains to you how he creates his music step by step, and he feels both so shy and so proud whenever you tell him that he's talented or that he's a genius. it leads to him letting you spend a lot of time with him at the studio - jihoon loves to have you there because you're his main source of inspiration, and you love to be with him because it motivates you to work too. you're always the first one he shows a song to, because he values your thoughts a lot, the most important opinion is yours. jihoon has definitely written so many songs for you, or about you. one time, you listened to a song he wrote before the two of you even got together and you noticed that jihoon was talking about you. you always get emotional when he does music for you and your boyfriend melts inside everytime you listen to the songs he made for you.

"can you listen to this and tell me if you like it, jagiya ? i'm not sure about what i've done with the vocals but maybe your voice could be a cute addition, don't you think ?"

jihoon gets so sleepy around you. some would argue that it's because he often comes by after work or because his sleep schedule isn't the best, but he knows that it's much more than that - it's because you're his home, and when he learned that you tend to feel sleepy when you're with people you deeply trust and love, he was sure that you were the one. jihoon also loves it when you're the one falling asleep on him, be that on his lap, on his shoulder or against his chest, he will wrap his arms around you and caress your hair every time. he has so many pictures of you sound asleep in his arms that he cannot count them - it means that you're just as comfortable around him that he is around you, and it makes him feel like the luckiest man in the world. jihoon always gets shy when you decide to attack him with random marks of affection. it makes him blush like crazy, but he's so cute with his red cheeks that you can't help it and he's so in love with you that he doesn't stop you - plus he cannot deny how it makes his heart melt every time.

"you won't ever stop, right ?" - "never." - "good, i like it when you kiss my nose…"

he's very attentive to every detail about you and your habits. jihoon knows literally everything about you, and it's so soothing to feel this loved. he always makes sure that you feel included in every conversations, especially when you're spending time with his members. he knows that thirteen people can be a lot, so he always take care of you so that you feel heard and listened to. if you're talking about something and you stop mid sentence because you think no one he's listening, he makes sure to remind you that he always listens and he asks you to continue, fully focused on you. he loves, loves, loves when you do your nails - that he obviously pays for - and especially when they're very long because it feels so good when you scratch his back or his scalp with them. jihoon almost purrs like a cat when you do that, his eyes fluttering shut and he nuzzles his head in your neck. you love it so much when he gets so cuddly and soft, and jihoon loves to be babied by you sometimes.

"let's just stay like this for a little while, please ?"

BF!JIHOON who's sweet when he's with you, but who cannot hold back his possessiveness once the two of you are alone.

jihoon works on his muscles too much to not use them to his advantage. it all started when you began to compliment his muscles every time he came back from the gym. it fuels his ego, yes, but it also makes him hard in his shorts. to know that you find his strength attractive, to know that he could overpower you every second when you're playfully fighting, it drives him crazy. so now, everytime you piss him off, everytime you're being a brat, he's using his strength to manhandle you in every position he wants. the fact that he can do anything with your body is turning him on too. when he's fucking into you and not letting you cum, he grips your hips tightly to stop you from squirming around. when you're not allowed to touch him but you try either way, he pins your hands down to the mattress. when he's having you from behind, he holds your hips up and forces his cock into you no matter how much you moan and cry. jihoon loves to know that he's able to take over you so easily, loves to know that he can do whatever he wants from you and that you're gonna love it.

"you're not moving until i let you, you know that so why are you trying ?"

he's a producer, he loves people's voices and he loves to work with them. so it's no surprise that jihoon is addicted to the way your voice sound. he thinks it's soothing when he's stressed, and it's so sexy when he's fucking you. he loves how he can always tell how you're feeling by the sounds you're making. he drinks every noise you make - gasps, moans, wimpers, whines and mewls, he loves it all. that's the reason why he prefers to fuck behind closed doors, where he can make you scream his name without risking anyone hearing you, where he doesn't have to muffle your pretty moans that make him even harder. when you gasp and whine against his mouth when he's kissing you, he speeds up his thrusts, and when you wrap your arms around his neck and whimper against his ear, he has to squeeze your waist harder to not lose his mind. jihoon even goes as far as holding back his own moans to hear yours better. he loves your noises so much that he might put them in one of his songs, and he seriously considers releasing it, just to make it clear that you're his.

"that's it jagiya, let everyone know who's making you feel good… shit, i love your pretty moans so much."

one thing about jihoon is that he loves to hear you moan, yes, but he also likes when you're begging him, begging for him. when he's already fucking you rough and that you plead for him to go harder, it makes him lose his mind. he asks you to beg for virtually anything in bed - you want him to eat you out ? beg. you want him to fuck you from behind ? beg. you want to suck his cock ? you have to beg for it. jihoon will never admit it, but he kinda likes it too when you're teasing him in public by begging him for something simple but you both know he cannot help thinking about your words in another context. one thing he will never tell you either is that he thinks it's hot when you are the one making him beg sometimes. not gonna lie, it's not easy to get him there - you have to catch him on a day he's tired because then he lets you take care of him and ride him. but when he does beg for you, it's so attractive you just want to do it all over again. jihoon is shy about it though, and he still prefers when you're the one saying please and being putty in his hands.

"you want me to fuck you ? then you know what to say, uh ?" - "please, jihoon, please fuck me." - "that's right, good girl."

[thecharacterchronicler]

The Bitter Taste Of My Fury (Part 4) || Coriolanus Snow X Reader || Smut

GIF is not mine, credits to the creator/owner ❤️

Outline: After a vicious attack from the rebels, Coriolanus lets some of his true feelings for you show.

Word count: 5’133

Warnings: death, murder, PTSD and explicit smut.

Author’s note: I wrote this forever ago and can’t seem to be 100% satisfied with it for some reason, I’m feeling awfully self conscious putting this out so please have mercy on me.

I made a few changes to the original story so that it would fit with my fanfic. (Making the quarter quell for which they sent two boys and two girls the 25th one instead of the 50th so that Coriolanus and his wife’s ages would fit into my plot.) I tried to make it readable as a one shot but keep in mind that it’s actually part of a multi-part series if you need/want more context.

It would help me out a lot with my next WIPs if you could answer the poll down below 🖤

((Part 1 - There Will Come A Ruler)) - ((Part 2 - Snow Lands On Top)) - ((Part 3 - Insatiable)) - (( Part 5 - Craving ))

Coriolanus risked a glance from behind the black curtain to survey the large amphitheater quickly - and noisily - filling up. It was his last speech before the day of the election, his last opportunity to convince the people of Panem that he would be a good president. He had been working on his text for weeks, the last few days he had even stayed up all night to practice and memorize it to the point that the words were constantly turning in his head. He was nervous and, even if he usually was pretty good at hiding it - he felt like all the citizens taking place in the room to listen to him would notice how much he was afraid of messing up.

“You’re supposed to go on stage in five minutes.” Minerva said, Coriolanus’s young assistant was stressed out, as per usual. “Excuse me Sir, but I couldn’t help but notice that your wife isn’t here… Yet ?”

The last time Coriolanus had seen you, you both got into an argument which ended with him, fucking you rougher than what he ever allowed himself to until then. Once he was done with you, you still seemed upset with him and the reason of the dispute still grated on his nerves. For the three following days, he had spent his nights at his office. He had been mulling over what your strong feelings about such a futile matter might mean. He had expected you to be unhappy with his decision to fire Marius, your driver, but he hadn’t thought you’d be so vocal about it, even daring to demand that he be rehired. He had fired a lot of his employees in the past and you had never complained about it once, but your personal driver seemed more important to you than all the others… Was it because you had an affair with him ? Was he the one to provide you with comfort and attention whenever Coriolanus worked late ? And what if he was the one who ended up getting you pregnant ? Surely he couldn’t accept that. His heir needed to be his.

“I sent Alastair to get her an hour ago, they should arrive any minute now.” He replied, his tone unexpectedly soft in contrast to his growing irritation. But he had faith that his own driver would drag you out of the manor himself if you refused to attend such an important event for your husband.

Coriolanus glanced in the amphitheater once again, scanning the crowd in search of your familiar face but still didn’t find it. He tugged on his collar, feeling more stressed than ever before. He knew every word to his speech, he knew exactly how to behave, how to move, how to smile to win this once and for all and yet, beads of nervous sweat were forming on his forehead, his tie suddenly too constricting for his rapid breathing.

When Minerva waved a hand at him, he had no choice but to take his place at the center of the stage, even if he still hadn’t spotted you among the crowd. It was unlikely of you to be late. And even less likely that his driver would be late… The applause and cheers from his audience as he walked out from behind the black curtain almost made him forget about it all though. For a brief moment, he felt the adrenaline buzzing in his body, making him believe that he was capable of anything and proving yet again that his place was there, on stage, at the center of everyone’s admirative attention.

He smiled, waved, spotted a few influential people seating in the first rows and made sure to make eye contact with each of them as he started his speech. His best one.

But no matter how perfect his tone was, how carefully chosen his words were, the crowd slowly began to grow agitated. A few heads turned to take a look at the doors, some noise coming from behind them and before he could even fathom what had happened, an intense blow pushed him back, making his ears ring.

The loud explosion made the foundations of the ampitheater tremble, windows shattered, pieces of the ceiling came crushing to the ground but the chaos that followed was by far the scariest part. People screamed in terror, rushing in every direction to get out, pushing and stepping over each other with no decorum left, the crowd had turned into a bunch of frightened animals and they all were individually fighting for their lives.

A door was opened and a thick dark smoke rapidly filled the room, making everyone cough and scream louder. Coriolanus pulled his collar over his mouth and nose, trying to filter the smoke he’d inhale and retreated behind the black curtain, knowing there would be a door for him to escape much more easily there, out of the frenzy and chaos of the crowd.

He rushed to the back, fleeing by the concealed door while his people kept fighting to escape the suffocating smoke. He looked around, trying to get his thoughts back in order to come up with a plan, he needed to find a way to warn your driver about what had happened, so that he could avoid bringing you straight into danger. Better yet, he could drive you far away from it.

He walked in hurried steps while the people who had managed to escape ran away, the magnificent and imposing capitol building menacing to completely shatter and tumble down into dust. Leaving and reaching the street outside was the best course of action to ensure his safety, but a part of him with visibly no instinct of survival, remained determined to look around in search of a phone or whatever device he could use to warn you. To make sure you’d be safe.

He reached the front desk of the town hall, searching among the fallen bricks and thick layers of rubble with the hope to find something that would work to contact your driver…

Alastair ?

Coriolanus blinked a few times, stopping his frenetic search of the desk to stare at the silhouette running to the doors, recognizing the bald head and small frame of his driver.

“Alastair ?!” He called, as loud as he could to be heard above the distant screams and cries. The man turned around to look at him, fear appearing in his eyes when he recognized his boss… So he kept running.

Coriolanus took off after him, his tall legs giving him a clear advantage to catch up on the older man. He pushed him aside, grabbing him by his collar and slammed him against a dangerously unstable pillar.

“Where is my wife ?” He asked, leveling his face with his so that he could stare at him with his most menacing look.

“The rebels, they attacked… It was an explosion.” Alastair mumbled, inconherently. Coriolanus purposely slammed him against the hard surface again, hoping the shock it caused to his head would bring him back to his senses.

“WHERE IS MY WIFE ?!” He shouted, making it clear that if he had to ask again he might knock him unconscious instead.

“I don’t know, it exploded… The smoke… I ran.”

“You left her ?!” Your husband asked him, rage dangerously starting to take over at the realization that the one he had trusted with your security had so easily left you behind to save his own life.

“I have a family.” Alastair justified, his voice weakening and his breathing coming out raucous and labored. What was that supposed to mean ? That he was more important than you because he had children ? Was he implying that you didn’t deserve to live as much as he did because you hadn’t gave him a heir yet ?

Coriolanus’s gaze fell to his hands, the ones he was holding tightly around his driver’s neck, squeezing with all the strength of his rage. The older man started choking, tried to fight his employer off but he wasn’t strong enough and the shock of the whole situation didn’t help him think rationally enough to hope win this fight for his life.

Tighter.

Alastair’s face became alarmingly pale.

Tighter.

Alastair’s lips turned blue.

Tighter.

Alastair’s body dropped down on the floor.

Dead.

Coriolanus took a step back, watching the limp figure on the ground with clear disgust but he wasn’t sure if he felt it because Alastair had abandoned you or for himself, for adding someone else’s blood to his already stained hands.

There was no time to ponder his actions anyway. The judgment of his morals would have to wait until he found you and got you to safety. It was all that mattered. So, while people were still running out of the falling apart building, he ran back in, straight towards the thick smoke.

He called your name, so desperate to hear your voice answering him but the fleeing crowd was way too loud and agitated for him to hope hearing it and let it lead him to you. But he kept shouting anyway.

Some of his employees found him, tried to convince him to turn around and leave before the ceiling would collapse on him but he refused, determined to find you, even with the smoke burning his lungs and irritating his eyes.

His head was spinning, if the first people he had ran into were wearing their formal attire, slowly he started recognizing the red academy uniforms he used to wear every day. Then, he noticed the colors of a rainbow dress, fading in the thick smoke in front of him. A long time ago, the person wearing it had ran to him to save him from a similar situation, now she seemed to be running away, impossible for him to catch.

Was she the one who had led this violent attack against him ? And now she was here, running around the debris like an untouchable wild animal just to taunt him ? Of course she did. All she ever wanted was to end him. Ruin his life. Ruin everything.

Real or not, he followed her path, desperate to see where she would lead him. He didn’t like the feeling it gave him though, the feeling of being an eighteen years old boy who knew nothing about anything anymore. A naive man, who thought his survival depended on other people rather than on himself.

“Coryo…” Your voice called, answering his calls.

He perked up with a renewed determination to make his way through the smoke and find you. Rainbow colors and blood red uniforms faded from his vision. You were close, so he kept shouting your name, frantically searching around him until he collided against you.

He knew your body well enough by now to instantly recognize you, no one fitted in his arms the way you did. He looked down at you, trying to decipher wether you were injured or not but the dust covering your skin and hair made it hard to spot any trace of blood. He turned around, wanting to go back on his footsteps now that your hand was secured in his but he stopped when he noticed you could barely keep up, limping and coughing after each wince of pain that deformed your face.

Without a word, he came back to you and picked you up, carrying you in his arms even if his lungs were about to give up too. If he was going to die today, so be it but not before he got you out of there.

A plea for help resounded next to you, the barely visible shape of a woman stuck under a heavy pillar outstretching an arm in your direction, begging for her life. Coriolanus looked at her but kept walking, collateral damages were inevitable.

Finally, the smoke started dissipating, replaced by fresh air that burned your lungs in an entirely different way. A large crowd had formed in the street, kept at good distance from the collapsing building by peacekeepers. Many pairs of curious eyes turned to you, recognizing the presidential candidate heroically carrying his wife away from a vicious rebel attack. Some peacekeepers approached, freeing your husband’s arms to carry you to safety. They brought you to a medical tent that had been set up, where professionals and volunteers were running around, trying to care for the many injured and wounded victims.

An oxygen mask was placed on your face, providing you with the air you so desperately needed while a young woman tried to make you as comfortable as possible despite her apparent overwhelm.

“I’ll find some oxygen for you too, Sir.” She promised Coriolanus but he shook his head, refusing.

“Take care of my wife first.” He asked, and the woman nodded before scurrying away.

Time seemed to slow down as Coriolanus spent countless hours in the armchair next to your hospital bed, watching over you, making sure you were taken well care of and mulling over his thirst for revenge. The rebels had crossed a line with this attack, they were clearly targeting him - and you - with it and that was simply unacceptable. His desire to become the new president of Panem was consuming him more than ever, thinking about the possibilities such a position would offer him to retaliate in kind against the districts. He could order the troops to bomb them, erase them from the map and the surface of the earth. He could decide of the fate of the very ones who committed the crime to try and kill him, he could set an example of what doom would be brought upon anyone who ever tried to hurt a Snow again… But he wasn’t president, yet.

However, his position as head gamemaker of the Hunger Games gave him quite a unique chance to keep the districts in check and remind them who truly held the power, after all, he had learned all the tricks from Doctor Gaul during the few years he had been working for her. He knew the only way to get his message to the rebels would be to answer in kind and make sure they’d know the fear of potentially loosing someone precious to them too…

A few days later, the doctors cleared you to go home so he decided to go back to his office and put his plan in motion.

As soon as he sat behind his desk, Minerva entered his office, holding a large file against her chest.

“I received the official report of the incident.” She announced, handing him the paper. He flipped the pages, brows furrowed and eyes rapidly darting across each paragraph.

“Twenty four deaths… And counting.” He read out loud.

“And I’m very sorry to tell you that I was informed that Alastair is among the victims.” She told him, which caused him to look at her, gravity etched on his face.

He had the perfect reaction. Not too emotional. Still professional. Believable.

“Do we know what happened to him exactly ?”

“The coroner said he died of asphyxiation from the smoke, like many others unfortunately.”

“It’s unfortunate indeed.” Coriolanus nodded, with a forced frown. “Make sure to send our condolences to his family.”

“Of course, Sir.” His assistant said, taking notes. “Anything else i can do ?”

“Yes… Call the press, I have an important announcement to make.” He stated, still more determined than ever to make everyone involved pay for what they did.

“And now, a message from Coriolanus Snow, head gamemaker of the Hunger Games and candidate for presidency.” The news anchor announced, as the camera zoomed in on your husband’s tired face, his brow furrowed and severity marking his traits.

“On Friday, people of the Capitol were the target of a terrible attack from an outlawed and violent group of radical people. We’ve lost precious lives and many of our citizens were gravely wounded during the attack.” Coriolanus spoke, solemnly, as the cameras shifted between different point of views of him. His voice was calm despite the rage displayed on his face. “Therefor, in retaliation, as head gamemaker, I have decided to make the 25th edition of the Hunger Games one that will remind everyone of the Capitol’s power… For this first quarter quell, each district will be required to send two boys and two girls into the arena.”

You watched your husband’s press conference on the television in the quiet and lonely living room of the manor, jaw dropping at his announcement. Was he taking advantage of the attack to give a lesson to the district, show his almighty power and advance his presidential campaign by gaining the Capitol’s support ? Or was he seeking out revenge for you ? Your chest tightened at the thought, could he care about you enough to be doing this for you ? Imagining you could be one of the reasons - among a thousand more important ones - for the punishment he decided to impose on the districts made your heart beat faster. With a husband so shy for words, a gesture like this one would speak volumes about how he truly felt.

You reached for the remote with a wince and turned the TV off, plunging the living room in darkness apart from the faint light coming from the crackling fire in the chimney. You stood with another wince, silently cursing at the doctors for sending you home without any meds to manage the pain you still felt so vividly in your body. If you had been a simple citizen, surely they would have kept you there longer, made sure that you were fully healed before letting you leave the private sector of the Capitol’s hospital but since the crowd of reporters, cameras and photographers was increasing with each passing day by the entrance of the hospital, they took the decision to send you home. Officially, it was meant to reassure Panem about the health of their potential future First Lady, show them you were as strong and courageous as your husband. But really, they just wanted to get rid of the public disturbing their other patients‘ peace.

You climbed the stairs leading to your bedroom slowly, and then sat at your vanity with a sigh. The reflection in front of you didn’t do justice to how you really felt. As soon as you had been discharged, a team invaded your room to make you look as flawless as you were always supposed to be, taking care of your hair, your makeup, your clothes, hiding any trace of the attack so that you could walk out, dazzling and smiling for the cameras. And of course you did just that. You managed to answer a few questions shouted at you with elegance and respect , offering sympathy to the ones who had suffered more than you did , smiling as some children handed you flowers and holding your head high just to let the rebels know that it would take more than this to bring Mrs Snow down.

But deep inside, you were a wreck. Images of the attack kept popping in your mind, you could still smell the smoke, feel it filling your lungs, suffocating you. You could still hear the screams, the cries, the shouts and the explosions. You could still feel the sharp pain in your shoulder when the column behind you collapsed and a heavy piece of marble hit you. You still had the bruises and the scratches on your skin from all the debris that flew in your face, even if they currently were hidden under a thick layer of makeup.

You slowly took it all off with a wipe, feeling almost relieved at the sight of the purple mark on your cheek and the other one on your neck, like a validation that you weren’t feeling so bad for nothing. You reached up to untie the sophisticated hairdo your beauty team had insisted on doing, but the sharp pain in your shoulder combined to the stiffness of your neck made it impossible to take more than two pins out before having to bring your arms down and take a deep breath to try and soothe the pain.

You had always considered yourself lucky to have such a big team of talented people to prepare you for every event you had to attend, sometimes they even got you ready and looking your best for simple shopping trips or private dinners if they expected you to be followed by reporters and photographers. But then, once the lights were out, the crowd long gone and the cameras pointed somewhere else, once you were back in the privacy and loneliness of your own home, then there wasn’t anyone to help you take off all this attire and help you be yourself again.

You were about to give up. At the moment, sleeping with twenty pins stabbing your scalp didn’t seem merely as painful as lifting your arm again did. But a movement in your mirror caught your attention. You lifted your eyes to the reflection, noticing a white silhouette, almost glowing in contrast to the darkness of your room, standing by the door, big blue eyes set on you.

You observed him quietly for a moment, unsure if he was really there or if it was yet another trick your mind was playing on you. Because you had a lot of visions of him lately. His face appearing in thick smoke. His voice shouting your name. His arms carrying you out of the chaos. His hand holding yours in the cold hospital room… You weren’t sure which memories were real or not. You couldn’t tell if he really had been by your side at the hospital this whole time or if you had just imagined his presence to reassure yourself. Were you imagining him there again so you wouldn’t feel so desperately lonely ?

“Let me help you with that.” He said, his tone softer than usual. He took the few steps in your direction, stopping behind you. You watched in the mirror as his fingers wandered in your hair in search of pins to take off, letting locks of hair fall down on your shoulders each time he removed one.

His touch was real. The heat you felt coming from his chest and radiating on your back was real. The expression of worry on his face every time he met your gaze in the reflection was real. He was real.

And instead of reassuring you like you thought it would, you suddenly felt invaded in your privacy to have him here, in your bedroom for the very first time. He shouldn’t see you like this, with your makeup off and your hair down, the bruises and the sorrow all too visible on your face. This wasn’t the image of the wife he had asked for. The wife who he wanted to impregnate. It was a pathetic reflection of a wounded and scared girl, wondering if she’ll ever be able to recover from such an horrific incident.

“I didn’t leave the hospital looking like this.” You felt compelled to say to justify how you looked in front of him, uncomfortable at the thought that it was the very first time he’d see you as you really were.

“I know, I watched the news from my office.” He simply said, focusing on finding the few last pins still tugging at your hair.

“And I watched your press conference.”

“What do you think about my idea for the quarter quell ?” His pale eyes found yours, silently gauging your reaction.

“I think a lot of people will love it, it’ll probably gain you many votes for the next round…”

“Probably but I meant what do you think about it ? Will it be a clear enough message to the districts that there will be hell to pay if they ever even think about hurting us again ?” He leaned closer, his breath brushing your ear. “Do you think all of Panem will now know that nobody hurts my wife without meeting the consequences ?”

You left out a breath, shocked by the rage you saw burning in his usually charming eyes. Either he was masterfully manipulative, wanting to make you believe that the decision he took to hold special games in retaliation was to avenge you, while it was, in fact, all about his career first. Either he really had done it for you, and the implications of such a revelation in regards to his true feelings for you were as terrifying to you as the first hypothesis was.

He remained quiet, removing his hands from your hair once he had pulled out the last pin and reached down to the zipper of your dress, slowly pulling it down with his pale eyes fixed to yours in the mirror.

Your breath caught in your throat. Was he trying to help you ? The zipper being in your back, you probably would have struggled to reach it, but the way he was taking care of it, so torturously slow, the tip of his fingers grazing the soft skin he revealed on his path made you question his true motives.

He leaned forward and planted a soft kiss on your neck, exactly where your heart started pulsing wildly in reaction. He pulled the fabric of your dress down, until it pooled around your hips. You saw him take a look at your reflection in front of him, the sight of the bruise on your chest and the other one over your clavicle setting his fury ablaze. He balled his fists tightly, as if he was trying to contain himself so you turned around to face him, placing a gentle hand on his cheek.

You didn’t dare consider that the reason for his anger was because he cared about you enough… But the way he relaxed into your touch made you wonder if you should.

He kissed your lips. Softly. Gently. Almost reverently, as if he was taking the full measure of what he could have been deprived of for the rest of his life with a different outcome of the events of that night.

“I will kill them.” He declared, a cold determination in his tone you had never heard from him before. “I’ll kill every single person responsible for this.”

He moved his fingers over the purple bruise on your chest, a featherlight touch that still caused you a sting of pain, to mark his words.

You remembered a quote you had studied in school, it said something like “pain is the only thing that makes us feel alive.” And, since it was written in your book and taught by your professor, you had always considered it to be true… Until now. Now you knew that there wasn’t anything else on earth that could possibly make you feel more alive than Coriolanus Snow and the way he kissed you, touched you and filled you up. And no pain would be able to stop your determination of feeling alive tonight. Maybe his way to cope from the attack was to hunger for violence and blood, but yours was to live.

You leaned towards him and kissed him with more fervor than he did. He returned the kiss but kept some restraint from the usually hungry and rough way you were used to having him.

“Don’t tempt me.” He groaned, against your lips. “Not when you’re hurt and still recovering.”

“I’m not made of sugar.” You assured him, with a soft smile but he didn’t return it, moving away to look at you like he had seen a ghost. Did he have flashbacks of the attack too ? Or something else ? He’d probably never tell you anyway, because he shook it off before you could open your mouth and ask him if he was alright, worry leaving its place to resolve on his face.

He walked to your bed, stopping at the edge and scanning your nightstand carefully as he slowly started unbuttoning his shirt. Then, he looked around, his eyes taking a moment to consider each object, each piece of decoration in your bedroom. It was the first time he entered it and although the way he threw his shirt on the floor and began unfastening his belt suggested he had other plans than simply asking you for a tour, he still took in most of the details of the only place where you could find privacy in your own home.

You stood up, removing your dress too and feeling suddenly very exposed to him. Your room, your face without makeup, your hair undone, your bruised skin, everything you usually kept hidden from your husband was now on display for him to see and you felt self conscious about it.

“Lie down.” Coriolanus demanded, kicking his pants off, leaving him with nothing on but his bare body for you to stare at, his skin almost as white as the suits he liked to wear.

You obeyed, climbing on the bed from the opposite side from where he stood. You let your head fall down on your fluffy pillow, breathing a sigh of relief as you noticed how the many aches in your body were appeased by the comfortable mattress under you.

He climbed on the bed next to you and it felt somewhat strange to see him there, in your room, on your sheets, naked. He hooked his fingers under the elastic of your underwear and gently pulled them down your legs, the lace fabric sending shiver down your spine on its way down your body.

He spread your legs open for him, and placed himself between them, sitting back on his knees. He looked at your bruises again so, instinctively, you tried to hide them with your arms and hands in fear that he might change his mind and leave you wanting. Thankfully, he had mercy for you and, even though he didnt seem quite sure about how to proceed this time - as if he was worried that he wouldn’t be able to tame his usual roughness - he slowly stroked the tip of his cock between your folds.

He guided it in circles, teasing your entrance every once in a while, pressing over your bud, spreading your growing wetness all over in its wake and you noticed how it made him harden too, his cock increasing in length and girth in his hand with each movement.

It didn’t take long for either of you to be ready for more. After all, it had been a whole week during which the only physical contacts you had shared was him holding your hand at the hospital or placing a chaste kiss on your forehead each time he had to leave you for a while, and that was if you hadn’t dreamed or imagined it.

No longer able to tease you, he ended up pushing his erected member inside you, finding its way in so easily it felt like you were made to fit him by now. He noticed it too, how easy it was for him to bury himself all the way in you until his balls were squeezed between your bodies and he sighed with contempt as your warm and wet pussy engulfed him fully.

You said his name in a panted breath, loving the way he filled you up with his hard cock and his eyes darted to yours, his gaze shining with lust. He moved, starting with short slides back and forth to make sure you could take it then, once he saw you close your eyes and bite your lip to conceal a moan, he got a bit rougher and faster, shoving himself back in with enough force to make the bed crack loudly.

“Yes!” You cried, as you felt his dick repeatedly hit the perfect spot so deep inside you, sending such pleasure through your entire body that you already felt close to coming undone. If there was any pain in your bruised body, you didn’t feel it anymore. All your mind could focus on was the intensity of his thrusts inside of you and the ecstasy building in your core in reaction.

He moved to hover over you, the change of angle making his strong movements even more intense. A moan fell from your lips but he silenced it with a hungry kiss, his taut chest pressing against yours.

He gathered you in his arms, holding your body tightly against his as he kept relentlessly thrusting inside you, swallowing all the moans that escaped from your lips with his desperate kisses.

You closed your legs around his hips, holding on to him as tightly as he was holding on to you. His thrusts lost their speed and intensity, but he still hit exactly where you needed him, making you whimper and moan with pleasure. His grip tightened and so did yours, both of you determined to never let each other go, him holding you like you might vanish at any moment and you holding him like your life depended on it.

He groaned, spilling his seed inside you with one powerful push. You dug your nails in his back, as his movements slowed down and your body contracted, your mind swimming in bliss.

He was panting, from his efforts and from the feverish kisses he kept giving you through it all. And yet he captured your lips with his again, in a much softer - almost loving - kiss. Then he set you free from his embrace, rolling on his side next to you and you istantly felt cold without the weight and warmth of his body on top of yours.

You shivered and he noticed, pulling the sheet over your numb body. You looked at him, wondering if he’ll stay the night. It would be the very first time you’d get to sleep with your husband. If the idea would have been dreadful to you just a year ago, now you wanted nothing more than to press your spent body against his and feel his presence as you drift off to sleep, knowing that you are safe with him by your side.

♡ - (( Tip Jar )) - ♡

[cyberrose2001]

TFP Optimus with a goth and metalhead reader. Reader is female. Fluff.

TFP Optimus x Fem!Goth/Metalhead!Reader

Heyy so this was pretty cute to write. I had come up with a couple different ideas but I went with something simple and took creative liberty. I hope you enjoy!!

Warnings: None, Fluff, reader is human.

Word Count: 1,259

'There's no escape from the thoughts inside my head,

Dark days has taken the best of me,

I can't go on like this.'

Sliding the volume bar up, you relax into the stained lounge not currently occupied with kids bickering for player one. They can be pestering at best. However, you love them a lot, especially Miko. That little rockstar has wiggled her way under your skin more than you would've liked. You can't count how often she's come to you with a new metal song she wanted to destroy your eardrums with, in a good way, much to the chagrin of the rest of Team Prime.

So when your fellow metalhead friend goes home with a big smile on her face and the second guitar she's broken this week, you take the opportunity to relax with your own music. With added earbuds, of course.

'Can you turn back time,

To change what you have done?

To shape who you become?'

Shutting your eyes, you let the rolling drums and metallic melodies flood your senses, the lyrics soothing you better than any therapist you could throw money at.

'DEATH BY A THOUSAND CUUUUU-'

Tap tap.

"GAHH!"

After nearly giving the base a new emergency exit via a Y/n-shaped hole through the roof, you rip off your earbuds to glare daggers at exactly who tapped you on the shoulder in your mid-maladaptive daydreaming.

A very concerned, slightly mortified Optimus Prime stares at you right back.

You have now exceeded your yearly quota for embarrassment in the span of five seconds.

"Oh! Optimus, sorry I-" You fumble for your phone that went airborne to the other side of the lounge, quickly pausing your music and clearing your throat, "Sorry, is there something I can... do for you?"

Optimus recovers from your sudden outburst and clears his vocalizer, "Nothing to be concerned about," He pauses, "I think... but I couldn't help but overhear music coming from your small device."

"Oh, these?" You show him your earbuds, heavily used and on its last string of wire, "Yeah, that's what they're used for. Personalised music only you can listen to from, called earphones."

"Ah, a device that recognises its user," Optimus says confidently, "Would it still be functional if another were to use it?"

"Uh, no," You hold back a soft chuckle. Optimus may be an eons-old robot, but it seems he still has much to learn about human culture, "I phrased that wrong. It sends music directly into your ears. Not only does it sound better, but it's more... respectful to the people around you."

Optimus seemed to understand that, nodding and leaning in to get a closer look at the magical, elusive earphones, "Hm, I see. How interesting, I am not sure if Cybertron ever had these."

You're unsure if you should explain the crucial 'ear' part, but then again, you also had some things to learn about Cybertronians.

"Maybe," You say, giving him an unsure smile, "Would you... like to try them out? I'm not sure how they will fit because, y'know, ears."

The mech perks up at your offer, seeming interested in something other than having a candle-lit dinner and wine with his datapad.

"If you allow me," Optimus holds out a servo, "I would be grateful for the opportunity."

God, he's so sweet. It's like you asked him to accompany you to a high school dance, except it's not. He wants to try out earphones.

"I am sure they will be fine. My comlink had previously been modified to accommodate external inputs."

You smile sheepishly. That's a good enough answer and one you were hoping for. You move from the lounge to step onto Optimus' outstretched servo, and now you realise that you've never actually been held by Optimus. You know he's big, but suddenly becoming inches close to his faceplates and getting a feel for the mech's true size has your mind spinning.

And this piece of heavy metal that holds you like a delicate flower is about to experience true heavy metal.

Optimus studies you for a moment longer, and his optics finally get a proper, up-close look at your unique style, "You look quite... different from the others. Before proceeding with this 'personalised' experience, may I ask why?"

That shouldn't have made your face flush, but it did. Questionable choice of wording, but he's right. You do have a different style even compared to Miko. Instead of colourful streaks of pink and the brash early two thousand' get-up, you chose to adorn yourself with all-black clothing and absolutely no bold colours in your hair. Even your make-up, black lipstick, and harsh eyeliner that would make a Christian mother weep. Optimus would undoubtedly question why you chose a different way of representing yourself.

"Well, I'm sure it's strange to you," You begin, trying to ignore how high off the ground you are, "But it's another way for humans to express themselves. It's more of an aesthetic of sorts, but a way of life for others. I guess you could compare it to Cybertronians choosing their alt modes."

Optimus nods, absorbing the new knowledge like a sponge. For some reason, that was easier to explain than the earphones.

"Ah, so it is a distinct way to present yourself to others—an identity of sorts. We Cybertronians are quite limited in our own modifications, partly due to the war." The mech reaches his other servo to your hair, toying with the ends to admire the softness, "I do not find that strange at all that you would choose to modify yourself this way. It's rather endearing and unique; I admire that about your species."

"That's..." Your cheeks flush once again as you watch him play with your hair, "Kind of sweet." You give him a soft smile, touching his servo near your head. He makes eye contact with you, and that's when your breath hitches, and you clear your throat, "But it's not just clothes or... or other mods we can use - we can use music too."

Optimus nods his helm in familiarity, "Yes, I have become aware of that. Miko can be quite the musician." You're unsure if he's saying that to be polite or if he genuinely means it.

"Yeah, I've been trying to teach her, I promise." You chuckle softly, as does he. You continue, unconsciously gripping his servo, "But music is the pathway to the soul, at least for me. It can help me think and even untangle my emotions or just let them be and only soothe. It helps me live in the moment. Like a... a therapist, if that makes sense."

The Prime seems to have connected the dots, "That is why you spend most of your time resting on the couch listening to your music?" Optimus realises his impudence towards you earlier when he startled you, "I see. I apologise for interrupting your therapy earlier; that was rather brash of me."

God, no, he is exceeding unprecedented levels of sweetness now. His optics' soft, apologetic look nearly obliterates you, thinking he had legitimately interrupted a therapy session.

"No, no, Optimus," You suppress a laugh, "It's okay, really. It's a figure of speech. It feels like therapy. Sometimes it's better."

Optimus exhales a gentle sigh, "Apologies. You humans have such expressive figures of speech I have yet to catch onto."   

"It's alright. Now, speaking of therapy." You try to hide your ever-growing affection for him and retract your hand, holding up one end of the small earbud, "How about that personalised experience?"

[onismdaydream]

tw: afab reader, fingering, sex in a public place (they don't get caught), pet names, not proofread

note: i asked what i should write the other day and @papersirens said suguru and then this happened so yeah :3

"look at that guy over by the bar."

suguru hums, you can feel the faint rumble of his chest on your back, and turns his gaze towards the direction you're facing. "the one in the red?"

"no, no, three people to the left of him. he's wearing that flashy chain. you see him?"

"what about him?" your boyfriend hooks his chin over your shoulder, his arms wrapped around your stomach pulling you ever so closer.

"he just struck out with this one girl, must've said something real bad because she threw her drink at him. see how his shirt is wet?"

"mhm."

"well, now he's talking to that blonde girl and i'm pretty sure that she's friends with the first one because they came in together."

it's common, at this point, that whenever there's some sort of outing with your friend group, you and suguru find yourselves tucked away in the quietest corner you can find. you'd much rather people watch than quite possibly make a fool out of yourself and suguru didn't mind the change of pace it provides. nursing drinks and pointing out the interesting things people did was plenty entertaining in your opinion.

"and," you continue, grateful that the music isn't as loud over here and you don't have to strain your vocal cords to be heard. "i think he's about to blow it here, too."

almost as if on cue, the girl tosses the remainder of her drink at his face and storms off, leaving the man alone and rejected once again. he grabs some napkins from the bar counter, wiping at his face and grumbling, before he walks off towards the bathroom. you would feel bad for him, but you have a feeling that he deserved it.

"looks like you were right." suguru chuckles, his arms loosening around you and allowing him to run his hands along your sides slowly. you can practically hear the smirk that pulls at his lips.

"you should know by now that i often am."

"then tell me, angel," his voice drops, his head turning so his mouth ghosts along the shell of your ear. "you think people can see us?"

suguru's hands drift lower, one squeezing at the fat of your hip and the other skirting dangerously close to the edge of your dress. a shiver runs down your spine, anticipation coursing through your veins as his fingers grazes against your skin.

"suguru," you whisper, your own hands reaching out to rest on his. you don't stop him, don't pull him away, don't want him to pull away.

"i don't think they can." he answers for you, his hand slips under your hem and your legs spread for him on instinct. humming softly in approval, he presses a tender kiss to your jaw. "only way they'll know is if you make noise. but you can be quiet, right? be good for me?"

his fingers tease you, sliding up and down your slit through your underwear. you're already wet, the dampness soaking through the thin fabric and you'd be a lot more embarrassed if it didn't earn you that throaty groan from suguru.

"you like this, hm?" rubbing at your clit to draw a quiet moan out of you, he nips at your neck, a sharp pinch that makes you arch into his touch. "better be quiet, baby. don't wanna draw attention to us."

"don't," your breath hitches, his fingers sliding underneath the band of your panties, touching you. "don't tease, suguru."

he must take pity on you, on your desperate state, because the next moment, he's properly fingering you and your head falls back against him, mouth open as you gasp at the sensation. if anyone were to look over, one glance at your fucked out expression and they would know, but your corner is secluded enough. suguru wouldn't risk you getting caught — he didn't want anyone else to see you like this. this sight, your face scrunching in pleasure and chest heaving as you try to catch your breath, was his and his alone to savor.

long and dexterous fingers prod at that spongy spot inside you, slick wetness coating them so there's no resistance. it's hard to stay composed when the heel of his palm grinds against your swollen clit. he can tell you're getting close, the little whines and the way you're clenching around him pointing towards your inevitable release.

"cum on my fingers, angel."

and you do. you would do anything he says, follow him everywhere and anywhere, so long as he gives the word.

his cock throbs in his pants, you can feel the hardness of his length against your body, but he doesn't pay any attention to it. his focus is on you.

"so pretty." he whispers, almost to himself as he admires you, your beauty that he could never tire of. he waits a moment, allowing you to regain yourself before pulling his fingers out. your slick and cum web between his digits, making them shine even in the low light.

suguru places them in his mouth, groaning at the taste of you, tongue swirling around to get every bit of your essence. you watch in awe and arousal, your core thrumming with another wave of desire.

"we're going home." suguru smoothes out your dress before pulling you with him. "gonna make you come on my tongue next."

[havoc-7]

I wasn’t a die-hard Tech Lives believer (more of a “I HOPE Tech Lives” believer) but the end of the show has me grieving hard all over again, so here’s my little ode to Tech based on things I’ve noticed about him from rewatching the show:

Tech LOVES his brothers, and he genuinely misses Crosshair. When he has his heart to heart with Omega in the ipsium cavern, the way that he mentions Crosshair—even though that wasn’t even really what they were discussing—shows how often Crosshair is on his mind, so much so that he can’t really talk about people leaving and changing without bringing him up. When they get the Plan 88 from Crosshair, Tech is vocal and insistent about doing whatever they can to bring Crosshair back—because “he is still our brother.”

Tech is incredibly moral. Not that he’s any more moral than I think generally TBB is, but he’s not afraid to speak up when he sees something that he disagrees with fundamentally. “The systematic termination of the Jedi is a big one for me.” “There’s a fundamental different between taking fire in battle and being used for target practice.” Even in just the first episode, we see how firm his opinions are, based on what he believes: that people are people, that HIS BROTHERS are people, that they deserve better, that there is such a thing as right and wrong.

Tech may be practical, but that doesn’t make him any less crazy than his brothers—in fact, I would argue he is one of the more unhinged members of the bad batch. His plans and ideas see everything factually, factoring in risk not as an emotional factor but as a numerical one. He knows their skills, and what they are capable of, and he pushes them to those capabilities, even if the resulting strategy is absolutely insane. The best part is, as insane as he may be, his brothers trust him, because, as Tech himself said, he is seldom wrong.

Tech has a beautiful sense of wonder and awe for the world around him. How many times do we see him go wide-eyed as he encounters something that absolutely fascinates him—even if that thing is a Zillo beast that just ate an entire Imperial crew.

Tech is INSANE. Not unhinged, like I said earlier, but skill-wise, ability-wise, he is an absolute powerhouse. I will forever be grateful to the writers of TBB who gave us a techy, intelligent character who is not your average scrawny computer guy that we get in action movies. You have to have a lot of guts to be the guy in your squad who turns your back on the fight to bend over a computer and hack into a file or break an encryption or alter the programming—already a delicate operation, but with the added risk of getting shot with your back turned. He frickin wields double blasters so that he can shoot more clankers more efficiently (if that’s not practical Tech, I don’t know what is). He DOESN’T WEAR LEG ARMOR SO THAT HE CAN CARRY HIS TOOLS WITH HIM INTO THE FIELD. In “Faster,” we see his hand inching towards his blaster, ready to defend and protect the second it’s necessary—and you know he would’ve beaten anyone to the draw. He fought a group of Imperial troopers!!! With a broken leg!!!!!

Tech was amazing, and I hate that he’s dead, that we never got to see him grow old, that he never saw Crosshair again. But WHAT A LIFE HE LIVED.

[heraldeez]

i saw your requests were open temporarily, may i request a first kiss with jayce ? i think it'd be cute. i hope youve been well !

I have been well, thanks for asking! Life's crazy because I'm getting ready to move.

DEFINITELY CUTE. I want to smooch him. I wasn't sure if you meant his first kiss, the reader's first kiss, or their first kiss together, so I just knocked down two targets and hoped for the best 🙈. Hope you enjoy!

Jayce x Reader | 962 | SFW

Contains: bad group projects, falling asleep on someone, and some sweet sweet smoochin.

Jayce stiffens as your jaw comes to rest against his shoulder, hands freezing their progress. Chancing a glance down, he confirms that yeah, you’re out cold.

It's another late night at the Academy, spent doing curriculum work instead of work that could change the world someday. Jayce was fighting with a tricky relay of copper fittings. You'd finished your share of the project twenty minutes ago, both the clean copy of delicately illustrated schematics and all the vocal presentation bits that Jayce dreaded.

Nobody likes group projects. Jayce knows he isn't out of the ordinary there. He just can't help but feel that it grates on him more than the average student, faced with the fact that most of his peers didn't actually care about discovery. They just cared about making themselves look good. 

Not you, though. He'd only shared classes with you this semester, but you were always fair in your division of the work.

And you were one of the only people who seemed to be able to stand his… candidness, always laughing it off when he’d get frustrated with the pace, being slowed down by others.

‘It’ll get done either way, slow or not.’ You'd been smiling at him so sweetly when you'd said that, despite the fact that he knew he had been nothing but irritated and fussy. Your patience had left him stricken with… something.

Jayce decides to leave you be, asleep on his shoulder. This project wouldn't have been a problem if the rest of your group members had anything to offer except slapdash efforts and excuses, leaving the two of you with the brunt of the work.

Tonight, Jayce is the one slowing you down, grumbling his way through fixing the shoddy work your other partners had put forward and finishing the things they had neglected to do entirely. To get this project up to his usual standards…

It’s eating up far too much time. The least he can do is let you rest a bit.

---

Your pillow is talking.

“Finally. Alright, I’ve got it dialed in so the fluid can actually cycle through all of the cooling chambers even as a prototype – the professor should be impressed. This is almost professional quality, so our marks should be flawless.”

Your pillow also smells incredibly good, nice and warm, so you elect to ignore it and nuzzle deeper.

“Are you listening?” – it sounds incredibly put out – “Hey. Wake up, we can go home now.”

Blearily, you blink your eyes open and find yourself caught up in Jayce’s gaze, the low lamplight reflecting off the gold of his eyes and revealing him peering down at you, close and tired and – dare you say – almost fond looking.

This close you can see every last eyelash, and how his stubble is starting to come in from the late hour on the alluring curve of his jaw. Despite the bags under his eyes, they’re bright and satisfied, his face almost glowing, the way it always does when he’s worked hard and made something perfect.

In fact, you can almost feel that glow on your skin. When did he get so warm? His ears are starting to get red.

That little detail reminds you just how close your faces have become, but a sleepy contentedness has drizzled its way into your joints, and you can’t bring yourself to pull away.

He’s just so –

“You’re really lovely when you’re making progress, you know that? It opens you up,” you sigh, still half dreaming, watching the flush spill across his face.

Jayce is too busy looking at your mouth to respond, his own ever so slightly parted.

Were you not half asleep, you probably never would have chanced it. But the way he was looking at you almost lost, how close he was –

It felt natural, to wriggle in closer, tilt up your jaw invitingly.

You catch the way his brows shoot up just as your eyes slip shut, and your mouth slots perfectly against his, slow and –

And unmoving. A little shocked stiff. Jayce makes a funny little noise in the back of his throat, something aching and perhaps a touch confused.

You jolt back, suddenly a whole lot more awake. “Sorry. Wow, sorry, I should have asked first –”

“It’s fine,” Jayce cuts in, a little strangled, busying himself with wrapping the prototype in oilcloth and setting it inside its small crate as an excuse not to meet your eyes. “You were – It was nice, just – I’ve never done that before.”

The end of his sentence leaves him in a rush. If it’s possible, his ears seem even redder now.

“Never?” you echo, a bit disbelieving in the wake of how plush and soft his lips had been against yours.

His shoulders hunch up defensively, looking awfully small for such a large man. “I’m kind of a busy guy, alright?”

Jayce’s fingers snap the clasps shut on the lid of the box, but your brain wrapped itself around the way he’d said your kiss was ‘nice’, and you’re itching to try again, to give him something even nicer to latch on to.

“Too busy to give it another go?”

Jayce’s wide eyes cut over to yours finally, from where he’s tucking the prototype into his satchel.

His fingers loosen on the strap of his bag. “Well. Maybe not,” Jayce mumbles, leaning in close enough for you to close the gap again.

The shuddering exhale Jayce gives you when you bring your lips together this time is everything, your hand coming up to cup his jaw and guide him into the most comfortable angle. His movements are still a bit stilted compared to yours, but he’s mimicking your motions in an incredibly earnest fashion.

You have no doubt he’ll be a quick study.

[feligayzed]

YEAH IM HERE AGAIN ABOUT TO ASK ABOUT YOUR FUNNY FISH MAN AU YEAH THATS RIGHT

Okay okay, so we've seen you absolutely are a firm believer in Animal sounds and behaviors Sebastian right?

Now it makes me curious.. do you think some of these habits he ever accidentally carried over into being back to his mostly human daily life? Whether is be some sounds, old behavior he just didn't scrap, or otherwise; any of them that might've stuck with him?

🥹🥹🥹 I'M SHAKING I THOUGHT YOU'D NEVER ASK

Oh they absolutely do ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿ very much so. Wayyy back I was supposed to draw up some scenarios about this specific thing in mind but uh. Oopsie *executive dysfunction blast*

Being a Creature for over a decade comes with its quirks, many of which are not easy to shake...not that he'd even care to try to, tbh. Old habits die hard and he's just tired, man, he couldn't be bothered to rein it in to appeal to the public anymore— this is as good as it's gonna get and if you have a problem you can take it up with the wall

That being said, let's talk about em!! The most obvious is his lil ear fin thingies; they still very much respond to emotion and he's actually become quite reliant on them for nonverbal communication. As a matter of fact, he didn't realize just HOW much he relied on it until after his big ole tail disappeared and he remembered rather quickly that humans have extremely limited variations of social cues (no this isn't an autism moment what pfft.....totally)

Smiling was also an adjustment he had to acclimate himself to. He couldn't recall when baring his teeth became a sign of aggression/fear to him, but the discomfort other (well-meaning) people brought him was realized very early on. On that note, he tends to get snarly when troubled or anxious, so. A good chunk of the time LOL. A small inconvenience happens and his lip is twitching

AS FOR NOISES his vocal chords were pretty much returned back to normal, so physically he isn't capable of a lot of the ones he used to be able to do, but that doesn't mean he won't give it his best shot. Unconsciously. He never tries to purposefully recreate any of the sounds because he just assumed they would make themselves known whether he liked it or not LMAO (it would be because. Embarrassing. But he bid farewell to his dignity a LONG time ago and now he's just resigned). Like if he stubbed his toe or some shit he would hiss from deep in his chest, and that's about the extent of his current range 😭 now me personally I like to think that he can purr still but it is a Deep Dark Secret the likes of which are career-ending

And now misc thangs 🕺

he was weird about food for quite a while, and it took a lot of work with Pai to get over it. This kinda looked like: refusing to eat anywhere other than his room, refusing to go out for dinner, staring long and hard at the raw meats section in the supermarket and consequently making the butcher uncomfortable. You get the idea

He'll instinctively reach for his non-existent lure when he enters a dark room, effectively grabbing at nothing

Avoided bodies of water at all costs for a hot minute. Took to washing his hair in the sink while he begrudgingly worked through some things with his lovely spouse whom he is so grateful for

His bed? Nest. Painter? Making it every morning without fail

He doesn't have to worry about shedding anymore but the Trauma of the experience was so great, he is thoroughly lotioned

[lazyneonrabbitt]

Instincts

Daryl Dixon x reader [pt.2]

Daryl finds a woman with her newborn pup, taking them into the group. Slowly their bond grows stronger.

The group traveled by foot after losing their vehicles. Tired and worn they walked on the road when Daryl decided to move into the woods to hunt while the others rested.

"Don't leave for too long, we gotta find shelter." Were the last words he caught before he walked off.

He got lucky finding two squirrels rather quick, but his nose caught a different scent he couldn't ignore.

With the squirrels strung over his shoulder he moved through the forest, not a sound as he stalked low to the ground and using all his heightened senses to seek out the source of the scent. He usually never went after anything other than food on these short hunts, but his instincts were screaming to go with his guts and follow his nose on this one.

The scent grew stronger and he could now tell apart all the separate ones. Human, low to the ground. And wolf, like him. He was either walking into something amazing, or he walked to his doom. He'd find out soon enough seeing his target wasn't moving.

"Hey, ouch! Come on, what did I tell you about those teeth.." a sigh left your lips as you softly rubbed the cheek of your son, who was nursing huddled against your torso as you sat against a large tree, partially hidden by low greenery. "God damn, what child has teeth this sharp at a couple days old.."

You were so focused on the feeding child that you didn't catch the man who appeared from behind the tree until a crossbow was aimed at you.

The second you saw you curled around your child, eyes closed and waiting for it tk be over.

Daryl heard the voice of a woman complain. Teeth, babies. Weird. But he now had her location pinpointed to behind a large tree, and made quick strides to round the tree, crossbow at the ready.

The woman came into view and so did her child. He watched her duck around it and waited, but Daryl dropped his crossbow instead and turned around before the blush creeping up on his face could be seen.

"M'sorry. Didn' mean ta watch ya feed." You watched the man's back, one hand lifted and the other holding his crossbow loosely. You shuffled your layers back over your chest with lots of vocal protests of the fuzzy newborn in your arms. His whines and grumbles were so strange to you, never had you heard a newborn sound like that. But then again, you never had seen a newborn like this.

"So, what's a human doin' with a werewolf pup on 'er own? Where's dad?" He still had his back to you and kept his distance, knowing full well he needed to keep his scent off the new mom and child if he wanted to survive. Male werewolves were insanely protective of their newborns.

"Human mom's traveling with her son, surviving like everyone else out here." You weren't going to respond to that last bit. Not now, not yet.

"Righ, if yer alone ya can tag along. Got a group tha' won't mind havin' ya an' the pup." He had turned his head and peeked if you were decent again, fully turning to catch your response when he saw you were covered up. "How do you know what he is? You're too okay with this."

Daryl let out a soft, breathy laugh and sat on his haunches to be at eye level with you. "They're common where I'm from." His voice was so calm as you stared at the smile on his face. You watched him stare at your son who was squirming in your arms. He was restless and you couldn't understand why.

"If yer comin' I gotta ask ya sum questions." Daryl was back on his feet again, ready to start heading back.

"I want to join you." Your answer was quickly given, much to Daryl's surprise. "I'm alone, and have no clue how to raise him so if I can stick around and get help from people who know his kind I'd be forever grateful."

Daryl let out a grunt of approval and nodded for you to follow him as you both exchanged names. He still made sure to keep a respectful distance from you in case dad was still around, but easily led you all back to the road where his group still rested.

"Hey! Daryl's back." "Wait, who's that?" "He found someone?"

"Did you ask her?" Rick's voice cut through the chatter and watched his friend shake his head no. He stepped over to you but was held back by a strong arm before he could get close, only letting out a simple warning. "Keep yer distance."

You watched the man give Daryl a look before turning back to you. "So, miss. How many walkers have you killed?"

You gave him a funny look, unsure who in their right mind kept track of something like that. "A bunch. Mostly avoided them lately, I assume you can guess why." You gave the pup in your arms a look, but averted your eyes back to the other man who continued his questionnaire. "How many people have you killed?"

Fuck. "Two."

"Why?" The question came so fast you had no time to even think.

"First one turned when we were asleep. Hid a bite and I'm a light sleeper." The man raised his brows, a clear sign he was waiting for number two.

"I killed his dad." You nodded to the pup again. "Tried to kill me and take him when my water broke. Guy was a psycho." You looked down at your arms, bundling your son even closer to you at the memory.

Suddenly Daryl stepped closer to you, holding out a hand and watching as the almost fully black furred pup stared at him with big eyes and made grabby hands at his fingers.

"Ya had him on yer own?" You nodded at Daryl's question and ran a hand through your son's fur. "I'm still sore.. having to move around immediately after is the absolute worst."

Seeing you were alone and with a child you weren't seen as a threat and allowed to travel with the group, much to your relief. You never expected your life to get even a little bit better, but now that you were traveling along with more folks you felt content. They watched your back when you fed your son and had a very handsome man help you feed him leftover meats from his hunts.

You were falling for him. Your son was absolutely in love with the man and you were starting to head in that direction too.

It wasn't helping your case that you r son wouldn't let anyone else but you and Daryl carry him, so when your arms were too sore to keep going he had to step in and stay close to you.

Your group shared dog meat and cheered in the rain, all the way to the point of the rain turning into a storm and having to run to seek shelter.

That’s how you ended up where you were now, all together huddled in a barn, desperately trying to catch up on some sleep while Rick kept first watch, but your don wasn’t helping the situation at all. He was whining his little lungs out with no signs of stopping. You had walked around with him, tried to breastfeed and give him some meat but he wanted none of it. Carol had offered to look him over but quickly retreated when a small clawed paw swiped at her when she reached out for his tummy. You were desperate, on the verge of tears as soft sniffles escaped your lips. Not being able to quiet down the whining pup was bad enough already, to have you crying on top of that would be the absolute worst. You pulled him close to your chest, his side against the soft flesh of your exposed chest, hoping the feel of your warmth would help but again it did nothing.

On the other side of the barn Daryl had settled, just around a corner and out of view. He had been trying to sleep for longer than most, but was having a much worse time than them. The pup’s whines weren’t directed at the others. They were for him.

With the distance between him and you there was no chance you’d hear his frustrated growls under his breath. Each peak in whines had him quietly snarl until eventually he couldn’t handle the child’s desperate cries anymore.

“Can ya tell yer kid I ain’t his goddamn dad?!�� His voice rang through the barn, a deep growling tone to it that scared you so bad you lost the ability to hold back the tears you were trying to keep at bay, and had your pup go from whining to full on crying. Loud scraping howls and cries shook his tiny body, no attempts to shush him succeeding.

On the other end of the barn you could hear the soft groans of Judith waking up and quickly joining the chorus of cries. With her awake and crying now as well the mood in the whole barn dropped to a heavy negative. On one end you tried to shush the pup and on the other end the rest of the women huddled around the young girl to quiet her down.

From your angle you could see Abraham sit up from his spot next to Daryl who remained hidden behind a low wall. You watched the large man reach out his arm and whack it beside him, earning him an annoyed snarl from where Daryl laid. “Get yer ass up to the lady and her pup so we can all get some shut-eye.” Another rude snarling noise sounded and it was returned with another harsh smack. “Get movin’ or I’m gonna get the lady and plant her pretty little self and the noisemaker in your lap myself.”

Abraham’s words made you softly giggle, but you quieted down when a tired grunt came from beside him and Daryl came into view. He rubbed a hand over his face and stretched out his back as he moved over to you with his sleeping bag in hand. “Move over.” His voice was stern, and you complied immediately, scooting over to make space for him between you and the low wooden wall. With his appearance the pup’s cries had gone down to sniffles and hiccups, his paws outstretched in Daryl’s direction while he was laying out his sleeping bag.

On his way to lay down your pup managed to wiggle himself from your grasp and clamp himself around Daryl’s arm, who had to pry him off while you apologized on his behalf.

“Ain’t yer fault.” His voice was barely above a whisper as he laid down and pulled the pup against his chest. With his one free arm he grabbed you by the shoulder and pulled you closer too, laying you opposite him with the pup nestled in between you. Almost immediately he calmed down and curled up to sleep. “M’sorry fer yellin’. Jus’ tired.”

You forgave him immediately, thanking him for going out of his comfort zone and sleeping with the two of you.

The barn was finally quiet, safe for the rain still pouring outside, and sleep soon took over.

The next morning you woke up to a pain in your chest. Jerking up you almost smacked Daryl who was now grumbling as he was woken up by your sudden movement.

He watched you sit up with a hand covering your breast, inspecting it by peeking down the neckline of your shirt while an eager furball made grabby hands at your chest.

“I think I’m gonna head out the door and feed him. Need some fresh air after last night..” Daryl followed suit after your words, he had some confessions to make and properly apologize for making your son behave the way he did last night. You watched him follow you from the corner of your eye and held the door ajar for him. With a soft thanks he shut the barn door behind him, crossbow in hand. He still kept his back to you as you sat down against the outside of the barn and got ready to feed the pup. He's always turn away until you started talking again, signaling you were decent enough.

You watched Daryl pace in front of you, chewing the side of his thumb in thought. "Hey, what's wrong?" Truth being, his pacing was making you really nervous.

He let out a groan and stopped his pacing, now nervously shifting his weight from one foot to another. "We gotta talk. S'about the pup." He shook off his nerves and sat down with you.

"Was he really crying for you last night? You yelled at him about not being his dad." You knew that. He was a kind stranger who helped you with your child.

"He kept whinin' fer me ta hold 'em." He's unsure how to continue. He had to tell you the truth before the pup entirely imprinted on him, if it wasn't already too late.

"Back when I found ya it weren't by chance. Picked up yer scent an' sniffed ya out. Got excited when I caught 'nother wolf."

He watched your face go from focused to confused at his last sentence. Deciding words weren't going to help him right now he raised his hand into view, taking a deep breath and letting his claws come out. Fhe skin of his finger pads darkened as his nails thickened and extented into full claws. "Pup thinks 'm his dad. Didn' think it'd happen so quick, m'sorry."

As you watched Daryl's hand change, yous son squirmed out of your grasp with all his might and plopped into Daryl's lap and grabbed at his wrist.

"So, we co-parent now? You know I'm mkre than fine being with a werewolf." Oh god, those weren't the words you meant. Yiu weren't telling him you were into him like that. Wait. Could he have sensed it already when you thought about it earlier?

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks as you watched him try to keep your son from climbing on top of him even more.

"Ya still ne'er named him, didya?" Daryl felt the change in energy and decided to change the topic. He remembered one of the women asking for the pup's name and you admitting to never giving him one. It was still something you ran through your mind every day, nothing seemed to fit.

The scene went silent aftet that, both adults watching the little furball as he dug his paws into the sand, fished out a worm and stuffed it in his mouth, swallowing it whole.

You scrunced up your nose at the action, but Daryl only smiled proudly and watched as the little black fuzz hopped around and jumped up to chomp at a fly, missing the first two times but catching it the third try.

"S'gon be a good hunter, tha' one."

Hunter.

"Little Hunter, huh?" It rolled nicely off the tongue, it fit. You looked his way and called for him. "Hey, pup. Hunter, come here." He quickly came back to you and plopped himself on top of you.

Daryl wanted to grab and hold you both close in congratulations of naming the little guy, but he wasn't the father. He should keep his respectful distance up, Hunter was only yours.

A lot of happened between then and now, where you sat on the porch steps of a home in a safe community.

Hunter rolled around in the grass in front of you and Daryl sat on the railing with his crossbow and a cloth in hand.

"Hey Daryl," It was Carol who came from the house, all dressed up nicely. "Have you showered yet?"

Daryl only grumbled at the question. "Sweety, why don't you go take a shower with him?" She aaked as she walked past you and watched you smile and saw Daryl's face turn beet red.

Not long after you arrived in the community Carol had taken you aside and told you about Daryl's feelings he couldn't put into words, and in turn her learning about your love for him too. Ever since then she had been trying to set you up.

You and Daryl already shared a room, still sleeping apart from each other but still actively being parents to Hunter. Daryl hated to admit it, but caring for your son helped with the anxiety surrounding his new home.

"You know, Dee? Catol makes a great point. Come on." You got up and motioned to Rosita to watch Hunter for you while you went to try something.

Walking over to Daryl you took his hand in your and softly tugged for him to follow and to your surprize he let himself be dragged into the house and up the stairs.

This was easier than you expected it to be, hsving him upstairs and in the bathroom with you in a matter of minutes.

When you let go of his hand and turned away to run the water you half expected him to run off, but when you turned back he stood at the sink. He was staring at you through the mirror.

"How come you're so distant again today? Yesterday you were good stepping up to me and hugging Hunter." Daryl was difficult to read, and you often needed Carol to translate for you, not that you could call her over now that you were trying to get closer to Daryl in this way.

His gaze kept following your movements in the mirror as you went to grab towels and place them near the tub, making sure you had all the needed soaps and shampoos and a brush and sponge at hand.

"It ain't jus' me in ma head, ya know tha' righ? Me, I wanna make sure m'not invadin' yer family 'n respect tha' he aint mine ta care for." He spoke while he watched you undress. His head told him to look away and be respectful, but somewhere a voice kept telling him you wanted this too. He had smelled it on you that you were happy and content around him, he only smelled love and adoration on you but with you never saying it was okay out loud he never acted on it. But now you took him here and stripped down to just panties and a shirt. "And what says the other you? The one that's staring at me right now?" He watched a wide smile appear on your face as yiu pointed at your eyes and then at him. He hadn't even noticed his eyes had changed as he listened to his feral side talk inside his head.

"Tells me m'wastin' time not bein' withya. Found someone who ain't afraid of us, survived havin' a pup. Keeps yappin' about havin' a perfect mate walkin' around fer me an' bein' a bitch fer not goin' for ya." It was clear in his voice he was struggling with this day after day, and you weren't making it easier by not just speaking your feelings to him. You led him here to confess, to have the balls to outright tell him what you felt for him in the privacy of the room.

Even barely dressed and inviting him into the shower he still didn't take the hint you wanted him. He needed the words so you gave them now. Standing beside him and turning to look at him you grabbed his leather vest and pushed it off his shouders.

"Daryl Dixon, both human half and wolf, listen to me." Your words made him turn to you, and just as it was easy to drag him up the stairs, it was easy now to undress him ever so slowly. "If you truly believe I'd be a good mate to you then, please.." You were giving him time to stop your hands as you ever so slowly pushed his shirt off his shoukders and followed his arms down to his hips. "I want you to make me your mate. Hunter has already claimed you as a dad and now I want us to admit to our feelings." Your fingers worked at his pants and got them open, but quit when his hands moved.

You thought he was going to stop you, but instead he reached for your shirt and lifted it over your head. "I wanna try withya. But ya gotta be patient with me, please." You, the human, had to be patient with the werewolf. It was adorable in a way, but you'd keep that to yourself.

"I promise to be patient with you. Except for right now, come and get your ass into the shower before Rosita gets tired of Hunter." With a laugh you undressed entirely and went to feel the water temperature and swap to the showerhead before stepping in. "I'm still telling you to join me in the shower, just to make sure you got the hint."

He may have been slow, mentally preparing for something so intimate, but he ended up in the tub with you. He sat half under the stream as you gave his hair a spa treatment and scrubbed his skin. You were scrubbing harsh, but he didn't mind. It felt nice to be rid of the grime and dirt for once. He felt good once you were done, and returned the favor with the utmost care. His touch was so soft, if you weren't facing him you barely believed it was him who cleaned you.

That night, long after retrieving Hunter and having a quiet family dinner you shared a bed for the first time. Just to sleep, nothing more.

Well, a bit more. Soft kisses, brushes of skin and cuddles were shared. Enjoying each other's warmth and find your space on the bed was the priority tonight.

The others all quickly caught the changes in your behavior about each other. The three of you were a real family all of a sudden and Carol gave herself a pat on the shoulder for getting her friends to be real with each other now.

With weeks passing you turned Daryl's downstairs room into his workplace slash quick nap spot and moved all the bedroom stuff upstairs and made a real, adult couple bedroom with a nook for Hunter's crib.

More weeks passed after moving into your new room and everything was so real now and it felt good, but nothing felt as good as certain words leaving Daryl's mouth after you came to an agreement a couple weeks prior.

"Smells so good, hun. Whatcha got cookin?" Daryl had just rolled out of bed after coming home late last night from a hunt. He sauntered over and wrapped his arms around your middle, hands resting on your stomach as he took a long whiff to take in all the scents swarming the kitchen.

You told him shat you were cooking as he followed your words with his nose. The fresh baked bread you went to grab early. The stew simmering in the pan and the eggs baking in the pan. But there was something else cooking, something you probably hadn't realized yet.

"Yer forgettin'bout yer oven, hun." You had yo know what he meant, you were so excited about it before.

"Dee, this kitchen has no working oven." You giggled as his chin scruff rubbed against your cheek as he kissed you there. "No tha' oven.." His hands spread over your stomach and squeezed soffly. "Ya smell even better than I hoped ya would."

You smelled different? You still used the same shampoo and soaps. And you couldn't remember you using a seriously different laundry soap either.

"Hun." Daryl had to stop you srirring the stew for a moment, turning off the heat under the eggs and turn you around. The irony of her joking about having to be direct with him to make him understand, and then now not getting it when he wasn't saying things literal.

"Ya smell pregnant." It was as direct as it could be. Straight to the point and perhaps the only way to bring this.

To say you were shocked was an understatement. You had your whole day planned full of tasks around the community, but you knew you weren't going to get anything done now.

But Daryl let you get back to your stew, staying stuck to your back with his hands massaging your belly.

"Well, ya better start believin' cuz tha' pup's gon' be here soon." Daryl was excited, for the first time in his life he felt like he wasn't that little fuckup redneck boy he was always made out to be. He was ready to be a father, and this time not of an adopted child but one of his own.

"Can't believe it took so fast." You were thinking out loud now as you moved from stirring the stew to cutting the bread for the eggs.

A/N: A very human were!Daryl this time.

[bitter-hibiscus]

This is a very shallow analysis BUT most of my followers are Batman fans and not Green Arrow fans so it's still worth pointing it out:

YOU ARE WRONG ABOUT OLIVER QUEEN.

Oliver is NOT ABUSIVE !! Here's why!

We as a fandom talk a lot about core beliefs of the characters (because DC writers can't do their job right) but here's the thing about Oliver: changing constantly is his core trait. Oliver isn't like Superman, who is inherently a good person since the beginning of forever. He's not like Batman, who figured out how to turn his pain into something that can help people. Green Arrow's story is about evolving as a person. It's about learning from your mistakes and doing better.

Oliver starts his story as a complete douche. Seriously. Just read Green Arrow: Year One and you'll get what I mean. He doesn't care about people, or politics, or even his own life, really. But being stuck in that island changes him to his core. He feels first hand what happens when you don't have people around to give a shit about you. He understands the need for community only after he loses his'. He understands the need for growth and kindness with time. And he keeps re-learning it.

In Snowbirds Don't Fly, which is essentially the only thing that makes non-GA fans think Oliver is abusive, there's three main horrible things Ollie does: He leaves Roy alone for months to travel with Hal, he slaps Roy, and he kicks Roy out. Those are, obviously, bad.

But here's the thing: Oliver learns. After Roy gets sober, especially after Lian comes around, Oliver earns Roy's forgiveness by being better. He starts vocalizing his lofe for Roy, he makes an effort to be involved in Roy's life. He's supportive and helpful when Roy needs him. Oliver learns to be there for Roy. He regrets kicking Roy out and hitting him, and is very explicitly grateful that Roy is a stronger man than he is, that he was able to pull himself together without Ollie.

Most Batman fans (and I myself am guilty of this) expect characters to never change, ever, because we're used to the Batman mythos, which can only exist if Bruce stays the same forever. But that’s not Ollie, and it will never be, because Ollie needs to grow in order to be written well. If he stays stuck in his ways and doesn't learn from being called the fuck out (even if he gets offended) then that's just not a well-written Oliver Queen.

[thebroccolination]

KRIST, FAME, AND WHY "YOU SIGNED UP FOR THIS" DOESN'T EXONERATE THE BEHAVIOR OF THE PUBLIC

Lindsay Ellis uploaded this video to YouTube framed around the myth that Yoko Ono broke up the Beatles. It's phenomenal, as her work often is. I'll probably watch the whole thing multiple times in the near future.

Toward the end of the video, Lindsay expands on the morbid paradox of fame. Many of us see it as this aspirational thing that famous people should be grateful to have, and yet we're also aware that the circumstances of being famous often lead to tragic ends for celebrities, either by violence or by their own self-destruction.

Over the past week, I made this thread to explain the events that led to Krist putting his foot down after months of trying to placate the segment of KristSingto fans who are vocally opposed to Krist sharing any part of his continued close friendship with Gawin, Krist's costar from his 2023 BL series "Be My Favorite."

The day he started his break from social media, Krist addressed his fans about what he'd been dealing with very clearly and characteristically sincerely. He expressed his confusion, explained the impossible situation this unreasonable portion of his fanbase had put him in, and ultimately just gave the vibe of a very tired teacher. Coupled with the reality that Krist's fanbase is on average much older than he is, it's a little absurd that a twenty-eight-year-old had to tell a fair number of middle-aged, tax-paying adults that he's allowed to have friends.

Krist concluded his TikTok Live only to be tagged in even more abuse and complaints on Twitter. I saw some of it and didn't bother saving receipts, but you can imagine it. You're hurting your comeback with Singto by posting Gawin's photos, Krist. This comeback isn't going well, Krist, and it's your fault. You're supposed to be loyal to Singto, Krist. You abandoned Singto at the outing, Krist. If you hate it here so much then just go back to Gawin, then. Don't you feel guilty for ruining Gawin's career, too? He must be good in bed for you to come to his defense like this.

Oh, wait, I did save that one.

Presumably sensing that he had done everything he possibly could, Krist addressed fans one last time on his Instagram Broadcast channel.

Let no one misinterpret this: Krist left social media mainly and specifically because some Peraya were viscerally outraged that Krist didn't cast Gawin aside and spend 100% of his time adhered to Singto. Even though Krist is the one who wanted the comeback, a significant number of Peraya seem to think he's not trying hard enough.

"Not trying hard enough" even though he was so obsessed with getting Peraya Party right that he made himself sick.

This tweet was when he admitted himself for an IV to keep himself healthy, and then he ended up getting admitted anyway for almost a week. During which time he continued working on the concert from his iPad, messaging staff and Singto who continued with rehearsals.

"Not trying hard enough" isn't something Krist knows how to do. He's a self-professed perfectionist who identified so strongly with the character of Anxiety in "Inside Out 2" that he posted about her on his Facebook seven different times. He has an Anxiety plush. He even tweeted about the anxiety attack scene when he visited Beijing for work.

Krist has spoken about his experiences with depression. He moved back home in 2022 to be with his parents at the suggestion of his psychiatrist, the fourth he'd seen.

It's widely known that Krist hates being alone. Singto recently said it's something that concerns him, that Krist has someone or other at his house most of the time because he doesn't want to be on his own. Just last year Krist said his favorite thing about his four cats is that they're with him always, whereas people eventually have to go their own homes.

Rather than close himself off, however, Krist has remained a phenomenally open and affectionate person. He treats his fans like friends. (The ones who aren't trying to control his life.) He took the time to address fans twice in text and in video.

And yet, as soon as Krist stepped away from the helm of his own narrative, some fans were horrified by the idea that Krist might be mad at them. Others began to twist his words and intentions to suit a more palatable narrative. This wasn't about Gawin, no. He did it for Singto.

And while, yes, Krist did also make it clear that he won't tolerate people trash-talking one of his favorite people, this was about Krist.

It wasn't only about Singto or Gawin. This was Krist facing down fans who have relentlessly demanded more than he could have or even should have ever reasonably done for them.

It's a special kind of horrifying to me that fans are misrepresenting Krist when Krist clearly said as recently as last October that what hurts him most is being misrepresented.

I spoke with some Peraya in DMs about this whole mess.

A few said they have no issue with Gawin, they're only envious of the closeness he has with Krist. They're both musicians and singers, and they're both people-shaped emotions who went through hell together during all the "lol who asked for this pairing" and "ew I'm not watching the homophobe show" nonsense.

Others said Krist is behaving childishly and that he should just ignore everyone.

After all, all of this comes with the territory of being famous. It's normal. He shouldn't overreact. He's taken the wife role. He should be cute and soft and sweet at all times.

When I posted my thread about this, some were underwhelmed by the informational tone and had hoped it would be more of a call-out. Thing is, I'd already criticized that portion of the Peraya fandom:

It's frankly beyond my comprehension how Krist has made it this far as stable and as kind as he is. He was bashed by homophobes for starring in SOTUS in 2016, then stalked at his university by fans who disapproved of him having a girlfriend since he belonged to Singto, harassed about his sexuality until he snapped, vilified by international fans who showed up late to the party in 2020 and made everything a thousand times worse by not bothering to fact-check anything they were seeing, tormented off social media, put through four different psychiatrists, lost the partner he'd been through all of this with, found a new one, lost him, and gained his original partner back only for fans to demand more from him.

And the thing is, I don't want to say all of this on Twitter because it's becoming more and more of a noxious hellscape with every passing day, and the people who need to embrace this aren't going to read it. But I did want to say it somewhere.

Watching Lindsay's video, I felt such a bolt of fear. He's just been pushed so far, and fame isn't what destroys: it's people.

So I'm so proud of him for handling this with composure and strength. I'm proud of him for keeping the promise he made to Gawin in October last year at his solo concert, that nothing would change between them.

One of my Gawin fan friends said it best: Krist was the first person to see Gawin's potential and then show the world. He featured Gawin in his own solo concert, he mentored him through promotion, he opened up to Gawin about his life and his thoughts. He would never cast Gawin aside, and the fact that people are still trying to hand-wave how important Gawin is to him is maddening.

He loves Singto. He also loves Gawin. One doesn't cheapen the other. He loves a lot of people. That's who Krist is.

The idea that Krist should be cute and demure and ignore constant harassment he can't avoid because he needs to use social media for work is so unimaginably cruel I can't fathom how it could even transform from an idea to a real belief. Whether you like it or not, he's standing up for himself now.

Being famous eases some things and barbs others. You'll get free stuff and fans who admire you, but you may also get a deterioration of your mental health and fans who feel entitled to your body, soul, and mind.

You tell 'em, sweetie.

[eloise175]

Headcanon: love languages

How Callisto and Penelope are disgustingly in love and decide to make it everyone’s problem. Their specialty is being smitten with each other no matter how much time has passed since they got together—sometimes it’s too much for the eyes of other people, cavity-inducing sight right there from too much sweetness.

➺ Physical touch:

Simply put, it’s reassuring. They always reach for the other, both as a sense of security and comfort. Hugs are very frequent and last for a good couple of minutes because neither of them wants to separate first, or at all.

When Callisto is stressed or is about to lose his temper, Penelope places a hand on his shoulder or seeks his own out. It helps him calm down and gather his thoughts.

Kisses are the best, Callisto can never get enough, and Penelope gets all warm and fuzzy inside when he gives her all the little soft kisses.

Callisto always has his arm wrapped around Penelope or holds her hand, it makes him feel good—it improves his day too (the palace staff will forever be grateful).

He’s very clingy, so much so that even during summer when it’s very hot, Callisto gathers her all to him even when she tells him that it’s too hot for cuddles, he doesn’t care that they’re both actively sweating waterfalls during nighttime as well. Penelope tries to roll away but ultimately fails to escape her husband’s clinginess.

➺ Words of affirmation:

Between the two of them, Callisto is the most vocal when it comes to expressing his affection through words, however with time Penelope learns too.

A reoccurring thing between them is that they tell each other the first thing that goes through their head, keywords bluntness and honesty.

Penelope could be staring at Callisto for a good five minutes and when he inquires about it, she just blurts out “you’re beautiful” or “I love you” which inevitably stuns him momentarily; it’s the same the other way around only that Penelope sees it coming since he does it pretty often, but inevitably she still gets all flustered.

➺ Acts of service:

This speaks for itself. Callisto would do anything for her and although he doesn’t expect anything back from her, Penny would still do them and he gets very happy when that happens.

The most frequent instance is him carrying her around despite her protesting against it. Penelope won’t admit it out loud but she enjoys being carried like that. Callisto knows and doesn’t miss any chance to tease her for it.

Massages could be classified as another act of service, especially after a long day. When he’s tired, Penny helps him take baths and is the one that washes his hair, he enjoys it a lot because her touch is relaxing.

Meanwhile, Callisto just wants to take care of his wife and often shoos the maids away because of it. It leads to him learning Penelope’s routine for skincare and whatnot. Later on to her insistence, they both end up having facem masks together to his amusement.

➺ Gift giving:

Having held off from splurging for most of his life, finally Callisto has something that he’d gladly spend his money on—or rather someone.

To him, Penelope deserves nothing but the best so he doesn’t think twice about getting her anything and everything she wants.

He tends to buy every little thing that reminds him of her, later offering them to Penelope as gifts—even if it lands him a scolding. She thinks he goes too overboard, but Callisto just wants to see her happy and shower her with riches and pretty things like her.

When they go out, if her eyes happen to linger on an object for longer than 5 seconds, it’s as good as sold in his books and you best believe he will get it for her, despite her protests.

Years later, Penelope is still salty over that handkerchief incident (even if she won’t ever admit it), so she embroiders plenty of handkerchiefs for him, and Callisto is always carrying at least one with him, proudly so. The others end up in the drawers of his office desk or easily reachable spots in places he spends the most time, so he never has to go without one.

Penelope also has some jewelry pieces made, thanks to her mines and assets which she turns into a business; due to this, Callisto is always seen wearing a brooch, cufflinks and earrings that are quite unique, expensive and of high quality. He’s very proud of those and likes to show off the gifts his wife got him, he can often be found bragging about said gifts in front of his vassals and soldiers—anyone really, even during events.

No one is spared from the Emperor’s endless gushing and words of adulation for his Empress and her thoughtfulness.

[mylifestylearedilfs]

⇢ ˗ˏˋ cillian murphy x f!reader ࿐ྂ

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ A GIRL LIKE YOU : fluff ; age gap ; imagine

, , ,

_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ CILLIAN MURPHY was loved by the whole world. everyone wanted to have a chance to just talk to him or more. on social media people made fan accounts about him, doing edits, gifs etc. but cillian used his phone only for calls, texts etc. so he was clueless about things that his fans were making about his characters or just him. murphy loved acting it makes him feel alive, but he didn’t like being super popular, it definitely confused him even if he is in this career almost all life.

because of this he wasn’t a fan of dating, of course he was once in marriage, and he has two sons, but it wasn’t it. he loved his ex-wife, but they weren’t meant for each other, and it was fine. he wasn’t in an unhappy or unhealthy relationship with his wife, their divorce wasn’t because of the fault of anybody. they just weren’t a match, but they are still good friends, maybe because of their children but also because cillian knew that he always could come to her when he needs help, and she could do the same.

but dating in his age wasn’t a good idea. he was forty-seven with two almost adult sons, and he was divorced. nobody wants a man like him to serious relationship, maybe some casual sexual acquaintances but nothing else. also all women he used to ‘date’ were aware about his career and almost always wanted to get him because of his fame. it was exhausting, and sometimes he wanted to be a normal guy without all of this popularity.

people saying that love is everywhere, but could it be in the small cafeteria? as you can see, cillian wasn’t a fan of showing himself in a place where you can meet a lot of people, so when it comes to drink a good coffee and eat a dessert he wouldn’t choose a starbucks but a small café on the outskirts. it was a quaint place, established by a young woman in her late twenties. cafeteria doesn’t even have the google site, maybe that was a reason why the only customer there was an old lady who comes there everyday just to have someone to talk to.

so when cillian enter the café the owner was in shock but smiled at him wondering if he would stay in there more than a few minutes. well, she was aware that her shop wasn’t popular at all, but she didn’t care. this place has been always her dream and she made it come true. she was happy that this old lady named ophelia was her regular customer because she had someone to talk during the shift.

“hello, are you ready to order?” the woman asked with a smile on her face. at this moment, in the background, ‘have you ever loved someone’ by the vocaleers starts playing.

“one americano please” cillian smiled at her as she nodded.

“do you want brownie with this coffee? i just made some, it still hot”

“sure, why not” he said, and she just smiled happily at him, thanking him for an order. cillian sat at the corner and looked at her. she was doing his coffee quietly singing words of song and do a little dance to this. he couldn’t understand how she could be so positive when her business weren’t the most successful, but there she was enjoying her job.

, , ,

cillian started to come to this café every day, maybe for this delicious desserts or maybe for this kind owner. let’s be honest, he came for both. murphy cannot understand how he found a person who was just like him. she didn’t use social media and wasn’t a big fan of movies where she could see cillian, so she didn’t know that he was a famous actor. she treated him just like an average person, and he was grateful for that.

it felt good when you weren’t treating like an animal in zoo but like a human. she makes him feel better about himself. and her new hobby was showing cillian the world that she knows and loves. maybe she wasn’t the person with an eventful life, she wasn’t a celebrity who was doing interviews every day. but that makes her special in his eyes.

with her positivity she made his days better, he missed days of doing nothing but talking about world, dreams or other stuff that his exes didn’t like talking about. she was a perfect woman in his eyes.

maybe he wasn’t that old to dating again?

, , ,

⇢ ˗ˏˋ thank you for attention! and im sorry for any mistakes.