#when your Ray is full of love and loyalty

[fullscoreshenanigans]

Ray TPN

KLJDFKLVDK HIM THOUGH??

(S1 Episode 6 | Chapter 181.1 | Chapter 93 | Chapter 119 | banana_slug_army's A Bizarre Proposal | 2020 Exhibition Interview)

[thatlittlered]

rings of power men | tropes

warning(s): light TROP spoilers, gn!reader used throughout

author's note: most of these will be turned into actual fics :)

-.-.-

Elrond + friends to lovers

GIF by @fukutomichi

As kind as summer, as gentle as the soft rays of sun upon your faces whilst you sit in each other's company and he is weaving, unbeknownst to you, tales of your wit and beauty in his mind; poems he would never dare show you. It was love long before either of you knew what to call it.

Gil-galad + opposites attract

GIF by @fukutomichi

Born and raised the son of kings, Gil-galad has known nothing but duty during his lifetime. A King neither ventures, nor tries his hand at passing affections, and yet the curse of a still beating heart inevitably finds him when his lieutenant and trusted friend Círdan is apprenticed by a lovely lowly elf.

Celebrimbor + soulmates

GIF by @dailyflicks

It is instant, absolute. As if the two of you were born a mystical creature, bearing two faces, four arms and four legs, until the Valar separated you and forced you to spend eternity searching for your other half. In the worst of times and the most unlikely of places, the search has come to cease. Alas, so has the time of peace.

Arondir + forbidden love

GIF by @lousolversons

The Silvan elf comes to respect the race of men for what they are during his time in the Southlands and whilst he dare not admit it, it does pertain with knowing you. It is hard to care for the hateful gazes of villagers when your own gaze is so tender under the moonlight, your hands cold and decisive when you touch him here where no one can hear or see. Though he has not tasted mortality, it must taste like you and the urgency you kiss him with, as if in fear the sun might never rise again.

Elendil + forbidden love, age gap

GIF by @frodo-sam

This man was born to be your dutiful protector, loyal like no other and sworn to serve you as his ruler with everything he has. Loyalty and love tend to melt into each other, merge so that it is impossible to tell them apart. It is a tormenting, silent agreement that neither of you may speak on these feelings and yet, it... overwhelms.

Valandil + childhood sweethearts

GIF by @fukutomichi

To know and love Valandil comes as easy as breathing air. You have been doing both for just as long, you think. Childish adoration blossoms in time until your souls are tethered and he will commit his life to earning rank and making it official, from the streets of Númenor to the edge of the world, where he hopes to travel with you.

Isildur + love triangle, second chance

GIF by @vidalharkness

Isildur has always held a deep admiration for you, a childish infatuation even, but your bond with Valandil always comes before all and he happily accepts things as they are for a long time. Friendship is of equal, if not grander, worth and he considers both of you his dear friends above all. Until Valandil is killed, that is. The love each of you have for him and each other perseveres until grief threatens to swallow you whole. On the precipice of desperation, a teary kiss is meant to bring comfort. Yes, of course. That is what this must be.

-.-.-

bonus:

Adar + enemies to lovers

GIF by @anthemias

Sauron saw in you every weakness, every earthly, pathetic desire to be appreciated and loved when everyone and everything has been cruelly ripped from you. To be part of something larger than the pain eating away at your chest until your days in Middle Earth are over and you can find refuge in the arms of those who unlike you, gave their lives for a greater cause. He saw and took full advantage. Adar sees it now too when he looks at you; the agony of knowing you have played into the hands of evil itself just as he has. There is always a sliver of affection in understanding another, is there not?

[amphitriteswife]

Foolish love

Pairing: Jonggun x reader

Source: Lookism

Summary: visiting Jonggun in jail

Genre: angsty. Sort of fluff idk tbh

Warmings: it sucks ass and its short but uhh its one of my 101838227 concepts about him

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‘I love you.’ Jonggun sighed as he heard the words leave your mouth. His hands were finally free of those annoying handcuffs. His body still healing from injuries and damage he took during the many fights he experienced some days ago. Most of them were patched up or in bandages, the only one being visible was the bruising near his right eye. Really, your words made him tired, but to you it was different. Your words were full of emotion, they were genuine. Something Jonggun knew himself. Yet he still thought it was foolish. Love is foolish.

Jonggun already saw how Love made one of his pupils blind, he was talking about Eli Jang. Someone he favored for a long time over Johan or Samuel. Eli had the motivation, the talent, the strength to walk in the footsteps Jonggun had. Yet he threw it all away for a woman. And look where it got him. Eli experienced even more problems, questioning his own morals, all for the sake of his family and daughter. One can understand why, one can sympathize, and one can relate. Yet Jonggun still never understood why he would throw it all away. How foolish of him.

Just as how he thought that Eli’s love for Heather is foolish. He considers your love for him foolish. Something you shouldn’t have for him. Something you never should’ve had since the beginning. What he wanted was someone who could kill him. Someone that could handle him in a fight. Admiration. Motivation. Money. Will power. When he met you, you had it all. You still do. You put up a fight he never experienced. He didn’t have to fight so many others to get to the main point. It wasn’t a fights based on purposes or goals. Just seeing who was stronger. Who could really tear off one’s skin. Who had more experience. Who had more power. Who had more stamina. Both of you didn’t get to lose, nor win as the fight was broken up. But it didn’t go to waste either. No matter where you went or what you did. Jonggun saw pleasure in chasing you and taking every opportunity to test you once again. And every time he looked even more unhinged, even Goo admitted that he found him creepy sometimes.

The open mouthed smile. The white ray of teeth. The salvia still hanging off it. And every time he was in UI state, which made him look even more demonic. Jonggun was a devil who had good morals. Sometimes. Yet did a lot of questionable things. He was crazy, yet that’s the sole purpose of why you found him attractive. Isn’t it weird? How do did you ever come to love someone like him?

‘You’re foolish.’ Is what he said. He didn’t even sound angry. Nor sad. Nor disappointed. It was just a deadpanned sentence. It didn’t hold any meaning. Any emotion. Nothing at all. It sucked. It really did. It’s not like you wanted to love him either. His piercing eyes that most found chilling were beautiful to you. The creepiness of them always made you very intrigued. Even now, when you’re pouring your heart out, he’s uninterested. Perhaps a cold prison does really fit him. But the same could be said to you, you met him there exactly 3 years ago after all. Together with Charles, a man who was just a cleaner of the prison who caused all this mess. Even to you it was all vague and unclear, the only reason you ever went along with Charles was for Jonggun. It was all for him. Everything was.

‘You suck... If it was up to me, i could do anything for you.’ You told him bluntly. It made him raise an eyebrow. He never noticed how attached you were to him. Perhaps he never noticed it all. Why did it even matter? It’s not like you ever wanted something with him to begin with. It’s not something you expected. He’s a loyal person, just not a romantic. But that’s enough. Because although his loyalty laid with Charles, yours laid with him. It’s funny isn’t it? He called you a fool, yet he’s the foolish one for not noticing how the two of you were so similar…yet so different. Seeing him against the other side of the glass in a dark blue uniform. It brought back lots of memories. Yet this time you felt much more saddend. You weren’t in love with him. But you loved him. You wanted him to be happy. To finally be free from Charles, yet when it happend it wasn’t what you thought it would be…how disappointing.

Jonggun on the other hand laughed a little at your sentence when he thought about it. You would do everything for him? How loyal. But truly, that’s not something he wanted. He wanted to be left alone, he declined your offer to see him many times, every time he didn’t even mention why. What an ass. Sometimes he didn’t even show up. Even now when you’re in front of him, pleading and confused. Tears streaming down your face, begging him to at least let you help him. He still only apologized for making you cry without giving you an answer to anything. He always left you in the dark, only telling things that seemed necessary. He could only just stare at you from the other side of the glass with hand pressed against yours, just the thick glass in between both the hands. He only told you some words you couldn’t even understand. Something you still don’t get. Not why. Not when. Not how. But you’ll still follow them anyway. He knows it and so do you. No matter what jonggun says. You’ll always follow them. Just like how he followed Charles

‘Wait for me.’

Those are the only 3 words he told you before leaving on his own regard, he still had time left. Even the guards were confused. But it’s Jonggun. He’s never one to speak much about his feelings or emotions anyway…so once again you’re left in the darknwith unanswered questions and uncertain feelings. What a jerk…a jerk you cared about.

Thank yall for readin :P 🩵🤍

[finnfrei]

I would love to hear more about your bard and her dragonborn 🥺👉👈

Aww, thank you so much for asking! Tbh, I always feel shy sharing the stories of my OCs, so I really appreciate your interest🩵

Where do I even begin? (Also, English is not my first or even second language, so I apologize for my poor writing in advance).

Clio is my changeling bard from our current homebrew DnD campaign and she’s the little ray of sunshine, who’s hiding her trauma behind a cheerful innocent smile. Or at least she used to be up until the party’s current adventure in Avernus. Quite early in life she realized how easy it is to lure secrets from people, when you look cute and play dumb.

Once she set out on an adventure with the party, she had a dream. A charming stranger in a dragon mask at a ball challenged her to play a complex composition. Non of what she saw on the music sheet he gave her made sense, it couldn’t sound good. But Clio was not the one to fuck around with and she started playing, struggling at first, but getting the grip of it. As the music played, the dirty secrets of people in the room started to reveal themselves to her overflowing her mind. The man asked her to meet him in the house of upper city where the party was headed.

That was how she met him, the man in the mask wasn’t a man she saw in the dream, but an emerald Dragonborn. Hescan was a commander of Secret Police and Master of College of Whispers. This tough mountain of muscles with cold gaze and devious grin was barely showing any genuine emotions. It felt familiar, she’s so used to putting on a mask herself, different ones, but still. He played cool and unbothered. Some even might say he looked dangerous, but Clio had met dangerous, cruel men way too many times before and wasn’t so easily fooled by him. She found it adorable on him. The feeling of safety around him puzzled her. He suggested her to work for him, collecting information, dragging skeletons out of others closets. She thought it would be fun to finally get paid for something she does anyway, never taking the job too seriously though. And well, girl asked for the direction of the nearest brothel, hoping to get some intelligence from local prostitutes, knowing full well about the amount of secrets kept by all the creatures, who aren’t taken seriously by rich and powerful. However, the dragonborn jokingly suggested her his bedroom. Joke got out of control. Bards being bards, I guess.

It all started with both of them trying to get intimate, “have fun” just to let down the other’s guard to get under their skin and lure more secrets from each other. Learn each other’s weaknesses, but also trying to secure the other’s loyalty. Hescan was playing cool and distant, meanwhile Clio was taunting him any time she saw an opportunity, shamelessly trying the limits of his patience. She liked to call him “pretty boy” and only called him “chief” in jest, he knew it also turned her on.

Eventually the more they learned the more they started to genuinely care about one another. They both knew what it was like feeling your body, your boundaries violated, used for someone else’s sick whims. They found comfort, they knew they were safe with each other, even if just for the night. Although they both had a hard time admitting it. After all it would mean to admit they had lost the game.

Now with a few years passed, they still have hard time fully trusting each other, given their occupation. She still makes fun of him, he finds it cute. He knows he can rely on her, so as she does.

There were so many sweet and funny moments between these two and to be honest the scenes where they admitted their feelings to each other, letting down their guards, live rent free in my mind.

[mrsdesade]

Hey, could you write a homelander x reader where she works at Vought and unknowingly gets his attention and he stalks her?

Hi dear anon, thanks for your patience!! I don't have much time to write full fics these days, because life is happening and I'm very busy physically and mentally, but I can happily offer some headcanons 💕

Homelander's obsessive behaviors headcanons

First of all, his romantic gestures, while seemingly sweet, are often rooted in his need for control and his inability to understand healthy relationships. His actions can be seen as manipulative and even frightening, especially when considering his overall personality and powers.

Constant surveillance: He would employ his super hearing and x-ray vision to keep a constant watch on you. He might use these abilities to monitor your home, workplace, or any other place you frequently visit.

Data collection: He'd collect as much information as possible about his current obsession: you. This could include your daily routines, social media activity, and even your deepest fears and desires. He might use his Vought resources to access private databases.

Preserving memories: Homelander might keep a collection of items that remind him of you, like a lock of your hair or a piece of your clothing. Oh God If you gift something to him, he's going to cherish this like a museum piece.

Love bombing: He'll shower you with love and attention, he loves doing it, especially at the beginning of the relationship, to reel you in.

Unwanted gifts: Homelander would often leave small, often expensive gifts for his favourite persons in unexpected places. These gifts could be anything from flowers to jewelry, and they would always be personalized to show how well he knows you. Often with small notes inside. Doll, baby, my girl, nicknames are on plate.

Sudden appearances: Homelander would frequently appear where you least expects him. He might show up at yor work, your home, or even a random location you're visiting. At least three times at week, minimum.

Testing your loyalty: He might create situations to test your loyalty to him. This could involve putting you in a difficult position or asking you to do something that makes you uncomfortable.

Excessive praise: When you two are together he would shower you with compliments, often going overboard and making you feel uncomfortable. He might even compare you to other people, always putting you on a pedestal. You're his precious treasure and he loves you so goddamn much.

Isolation tactics: He might try to isolate you from their friends and family at some point, making you believe that he is the only one who truly understands your needs.

Future planning: He might make elaborate plans for your future together, down to the smallest details, without ever consulting you. He'll make grand plans for the two of you for sure. This could include things like buying a house together or having children.

Gaslighting: If you decide to start to question his behavior, Homelander might resort to gaslighting. He could make you doubt their own perceptions and memories, making you believe that you're just imagining things.

Public displays of affection: Homelander might engage in very public displays of affection, such as putting his arm around you in front of a crowd, or giving you a very long, lingering kiss. This is partly to show off his "perfect couple" image, but also to mark his territory.

Obsession with physical touch: Homelander might find ways to touch you, in every moment, he need that, even if it's just brushing against them or holding their hand. He would crave any form of physical contact.

Nightmares and sleep disturbances: His obsession for you would consume his thoughts, leading to vivid nightmares and difficulty sleeping. He might even develop a fear of losing you really easily. Despite his outward confidence, Homelander has a deep-seated fear of being abandoned. This fear can lead him to become increasingly possessive and controlling.

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Thanks again for the request, enjoy! Kisses kisses! 💕

[calisources]

THE   ROYAL   TREATMENT.   all   sentences   are   either   taken   from   fantasy   or   fictional   and   historical   novels   about   kings,   queens,   royal   blood   and   some   sparked   romance   and   magic.   change   all   pronouns   and   names,   locations   as   you   see   fit.

“You are enough to drive a saint to madness or a king to his knees.”

“She was a ray of sunshine, a warm summer rain, a bright fire on a cold winter’s day, and now she could be dead because she had tried to save the man she loved.”

“He was a man known for the violence of his temper as well as the deliciousness of his touch.”

“Am I making you nervous, Natalie?”

“Sad it is, the fate of kings.”

“Go to this masquerade ball with your new friends, put on a pretty gown, and dance the night away.”

“Repentance is like a royal cheer.”

“Even the small joys are worth cherishing, and they will lead to greater ones.”

“when you become king shall find many difficult tasks and you shall have to hurt others and yourself.”

“The throne brings trouble and grief along with the glory.”

“Anger is a feeling afforded only by royal blood. Ordinary people ask for mercy in such situations.”

“True leadership is serving others; follow Queen Elizabeth's noble example.”

“Success isn't wealth or status; impact matters.”

“The power of empowerment can change the world, one person at a time.”

“Leadership is service, not a throne to seize.”

“I have in sincerity pledged myself to your service, as so many of you are pledged to mine.”

“Proper training is key, it allows one to accomplish a great deal."

“Oh honey, someday a real man is going to make you see stars and you won't even be looking at the sky."

“Royalty comes with a cost. My great-great-grandfather was one, and he left me no royalty but loyalty to empower people.”

“At all times an empire is more important than emperor and empress, prince and princess.”

“You might have to ask yourself, however right your claim is, if you are the leader the realm needs and wants.”

“You’re Royal. Get used to it and that involves a lot of burdens and things you don’t want to do.”

“I’m in awe of you, Rowan Palotay.”

“Slow down there, princess. How do you know what kind of first impression you gave me?”

“Prayer is a royal power.”

“You forget yourself and who you are speaking of.”

“Anyone young, famous and beautiful who dies young is forever frozen in time and fascinating to all of us.”

“Youths are the life blood of any nation.”

“I am not yet come of age, my lord. How can I be queen?”

“To crown her is to kill her.”

“He didn't marry you to become king. He became king because he wanted to marry you.”

“Little by little, the old world crumbled, and not once did the king imagine that some of the pieces might fall on him.”

“I believe we are what we make ourselves, and as such, you, Crown Princess, are nothing.”

“Rule with the heart of a servant. Serve with the heart of a king.”

“There’s a fine line between gossip and history, when one is talking about kings.”

“We kings do develop a certain ability to recognize objects under our noses.”

“...alone is such a nebulous state when one is queen.”

“I respect you as my king, and I respect you as my father, but I do not respect you as a man!”

“She was made to be a queen, just like her mother.”

Protect Myrcella with your life. Defend her... and her rights. Set a crown upon her head.“”

“You’re my princess, right? You were always going to be my princess, no matter what you were born.”

“For dogs we kings should have lions, and for cats, tigers. The great benefits a crown.”

“This marriage had resulted from impulse.”

“The king is a saint and cannot rule, and his son is a devil and should not.”

“One does not ask if one likes the Blood Royal. They simply are. It is like asking if one likes the Gods.”

“You are a king worthy of their allegiance . . . with a queen full of fire and promise.”

“The idea that how you are born or the name you are given dictate the sort of person you really are.”

“You seem to think that you can still turn back, but it’s too late. You’ll have to face it, Princess. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but soon enough. And you can’t be this scared when the time comes.”

“Was it worse, she wondered, to be wanted dead or wanted Queen?”

“My royal status is both a shield that protects me and a sword that impales my heart.”

“Respect shouldn't be hereditary; it must be earned.”

“You know, for a pampered princess, you have a certain gift for violence.”

“There is nothing sharper than a well mannered princess’ words.Their true meaning are a mystery.”

“People are born great but yet need to grow into greatness”

“Kings needn’t raise their voices to be heard.”

“She was their witch queen, and they adored her.”

“To be fair, I don't quite see any difference between an assassin and a knight. They both kill people, only one "in the name of Honour '' and the other is just a "monster"

“Crowns belong to those that serve.”

“I have the softness and meekness of a daughter but I also have the boldness and Braveheart of a Son.”

“Will you visit my chambers tonight?”

“A throne won in blood will soon be drenched in it.”

“Even when she's dethroned by hardship, she still wears the sun as a crown.”

“The Princess knew in her heart she is strong, smart, and capable because it is in her blood.”

“There is the matter of succession that has to be settled. You don’t start a reign without settling how it continues.”

“My reign has been anything but traditional. Let’s not start now, shall we?”

“Every girl thinks about growing up in a palace. Few ever ponder living in a cage.”

“Often blessings and burdens comes hand in hand. The bigger the Crown the heavier the burden”

“If stubborness were all that was needed to be a good queen, I'd rule the world.”

“Some girls have a frightening killer instinct. Don't let the ball gowns fool you.”

“You don't turn your back on your destiny.”

[bird-inacage]

Only Friends: Why Ray's reaction speaks volumes about his feelings for Sand, rather than his feelings for Mew

It's natural to think Ray reacted so strongly in the fight with Boston because of his residual feelings and loyalty to Mew. But let's be clear, this revelation doesn't adversely affect Mew in any immediate way if you read this as Ray being upset on Mew's behalf.

Boston's bombshell is instead targeted to hurt Ray specifically. An attempt to make Ray look like a villain and Sand to feel like a victim of Ray's 'deception'. Sand being the unwarranted collateral of this fight.

Why is Ray angry?

So let's break down all the reasons Ray is angry in the first place.

This wasn't Boston's story to tell. He saw and recorded the kiss without their knowledge or consent. He frames it like a 'dirty secret' that Ray intentionally hid from Sand. But it's Ray's right to choose when and if he felt it necessary to share this with Sand, depending on the progression of their relationship.

What Boston is claiming is only partly true. Yes they did kiss. But no, Ray did not 'take Mew's virginity'. Nothing further happened and Boston is embellishing, which implies more gravitas to a 'history' which doesn't exist.

Sand is being fed this information without full context. He doesn't have the benefit of understanding Ray's past (namely his breakdown), the nature of his friendship with Mew. Without it, Ray is going to look categorically bad, especially through the lens of his affectionate behaviour with Sand that day.

The revelation could ruin what potential future there may have been between Ray and Sand, if Sand is driven away. Ray's newfound happiness dashed in an instant.

The initial part of his Ray's reaction is defensive - the shock, the betrayal regarding such an invasion of privacy. Ray's first punch is thrown after "keep track?" The audacity and complete lack of justification felt as to why Boston would even do such a thing. Ray's second attempt to enact violence is when Boston says, "are you going to be two-timing?" I saw the following through his response: 'It's one thing to hurt me. I'm your friend. I know what you're like. But why on earth are you dragging Sand into this? How dare you.'

Attacking Ray's Weak Spot

We can't change our pasts. Whether it was one kiss or years of unrequited feelings - ultimately, nothing became of it. Ray can't erase the fact he did once love Mew (and probably always will in some capacity because of what Mew did for him). But if Ray were to eventually fall in love with Sand, then his romantic feelings for Mew would become past tense. So whatever he felt then would have no bearing on his here and now. Ray shouldn't be made to feel ashamed.

The progress Ray made with Sand this episode has essentially been unravelled through this one act. It's been hugely difficult for Ray to even consider loving anyone other than Mew. He only just started to display inklings of welcoming the idea. We should all be afforded the opportunity to move on. For Boston to use Mew (someone who means so much to Ray symbolically) as ammunition to hurt Sand (someone new he's grown to care about), is pitting his past and future against each other. And it's not fair to do so. Your past doesn't negate what you may do in future. Similarly the future doesn't discredit the past. Both are important for different reasons.

Ray has every right to value both Mew and Sand, because his feelings for each of them will be entirely different in their own right. But what Boston has tried to spin here is a comparison game. 'Ray loves Mew. He's always loved Mew.' The further insinuation being: 'Ray will never find you as important Sand. You're lesser than. You'll never compare in Ray's eyes'. It's simply not Boston's place to say that. How would he know? It's possible that one day Sand could match Ray's love for Mew, surpass it even. But Ray isn't to know that yet.

There's also a palpable air of derision in how Boston delivers this. He makes Ray's feelings out to be a slightly pathetic, sad little obsession, by wording it as "Ray's whole ass is owned by Mew". Reducing Ray's incredibly complex feelings for someone who saved his life to a more superficial pining. The nuances of which Sand won't be aware of.

Hurting Ray by hurting Sand

Not only is Boston trying to tarnish Ray's character by accusing him of misleading and lying to Sand - but in doing so he's humiliating Sand for not being aware of this. If he can tell that Sand has feelings for Ray, he knew this information would hurt an innocent third party. All 'disguised' under a feat of righteousness.

I'm sure Ray is more than aware of how Sand treats him. Sand has been nothing but kind and accommodating where he's concerned. Willing to bend to his will and soften to his demands. Sand absolutely does not deserve to be dragged into any unnecessary drama, (drama which involves a notable part of Ray's history). So Ray is forced to feel somewhat responsible, based purely on the fact that this very 'drama' concerns him.

It's because Ray cares about Sand's feelings, cares about Sand's opinion of him, cares about what Sand feels towards him, and is also concerned by Sand being caught in this crossfire - that Ray is so clearly flustered. No matter what he's done, Sand shouldn't have to suffer along by association. That's not fair on Sand. It's his past in question. It's his best friend doing the damage. And it's because of him that Sand is now getting hurt too.

He can't outright deny it, because part of what Boston is saying is true. (Trying to vehemently defend yourself can sometimes come across even more as an admission of guilt). He can't apologise to Sand, because he hasn't figured out who Sand is to him yet. (If Ray doesn't deem him as a boyfriend at present, then he can't be sorry for liking someone else). The kiss with Mew also relates closely to an absolute rock bottom period of his life, which he probably wasn't ready to share with Sand just yet.

Ray has been made out to be a liar and a cheat and he's just praying that Sand can give him the benefit of the doubt. There's absolutely no way he can possibly explain all the intricacies to Sand in such an instant, but he's allowing Sand to ask him should he wish to. It's the least he can do. But Sand is going through his own internal battle now, and both need time to process what this has led them to realise about how they feel about each other.

[rafesbabygirlx]

In Loving Memory of JJ

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Summary: Months after losing JJ, you're finally ready to step into the house you grew up in with him and go through some items to hold as keepsakes for Vivienne. A drabble from my series A Lot of Time has Passed.

A/N: what's the point of my series if I don't make a post honoring JJ. I'm gonna miss him so much next season. :(

Warnings: nothing but sadness

The afternoon sun streamed through the worn curtains of JJ bedroom, casting soft, golden rays across the room. Dust particles floated lazily in the beams, their slow dance almost reverent in the quiet space. The room felt frozen in time—the bed unmade, fishing rods propped up in the corner, and his favorite cap hanging on the bedpost, the fabric frayed at the brim from countless adventures under the relentless Carolina sun. You haven’t been back in your house since you’ve gotten back from hunting Groff. It’s been months and you’ve finally brought yourself to make it past the driveway. You’d make Rafe turn back home every time before. 

You sat cross-legged on the wooden floor, old floorboards creaking beneath your weight, with Vivienne perched on your lap. She toyed with the hem of her dress, eyes wide and curious as she took in the room, so full of memories and stories she was too young to remember. You glanced down at her, into her bright blue eyes, of course she got them from Rafe, but the softness in them always reminded you so much of JJ’s and that it made your heart ache. You knew you needed to tell her who he was—the uncle she would never grow up and make memories with but should always remember him for exactly who he was. Even if she didn’t quite understand now. You’d have no problem telling her over and over again as she grew. 

“This,” you said, voice wavering as you picked up a cracked Polaroid photo from the pile of belongings scattered on the floor, “is my favorite photo of your Uncle J. The bravest, wildest, most loyal person I’ve ever known.” The picture showed JJ at the Boneyard, grinning from ear to ear with his arms thrown around John B and Pope. They looked carefree, a trio bound by loyalty and a brotherhood forged by the rough edges of life on the Cut.

“He liked treasure,” you whispered, more to yourself than to her, the memory carrying you back to the nights JJ would burst through the door with sand still clinging to his skin, eyes bright with excitement as he spun wild tales of their latest adventure. “He and his friends—they were always searching for something. Gold, yes, but it was more than that. They wanted freedom, something better than what the island wanted to give them.”

Your daughter’s tiny fingers reached for the Polaroid, and you let her hold it, watching as she inspected the faded image with a solemnity that seemed far beyond her years.

“He was strong,” you said, eyes drifting to the board in the corner with notes pinned haphazardly—maps scrawled with routes, plans for the next great scheme. “He fought hard for the people he loved. He would’ve protected you, sweetheart. He would’ve made you laugh until your sides hurt and taken you out on the boat, showing you the stars and telling you stories about them.”

Your gaze shifted to the corner of the room where an old motorcycle helmet sat, its surface scratched and worn. “And he loved motorbikes,” you added, a soft smile breaking through the grief. “He’d ride that old bike down to the beach with the wind in his hair, reckless and free. It was his escape, his way of feeling alive when the weight of everything got too heavy.” You could almost hear the roar of the engine, the laughter that followed as he raced down backroads with John B chasing behind, whooping with joy.

“He said there was nothing like it,” you continued, eyes misty as you remembered his words. ‘When you’re on the bike, it’s just you and the road, like the world falls away.’”

A knot formed in your throat as you lifted a small shark tooth necklace from the pile, one JJ had worn more days than not. You placed it gently around your daughter’s neck, the string almost comically large on her tiny frame. She looked up at you, wide-eyed and confused, and you smiled, a tear slipping down your cheek.

“He used to say,” you continued, voice breaking, ‘It’s us against the world, always.’” You brushed her curls away from her face and kissed her forehead. “And even though he’s not here, I hope you carry that with you. Be brave, be kind, and always look out for your friends—just like he did.”

The room fell into a peaceful silence, the echoes of JJ’s laughter seeming to hang in the air. Your daughter leaned back against you, clutching the Polaroid tightly. In that moment, surrounded by the remnants of your brother’s life—the sand, the sea, and the stories—you knew that JJ’s spirit would always be with you both, carried in the stories you told and the memories you kept alive.

You didn’t notice Rafe standing in the doorway, watching you as you wiped away your tears. When you stood up, holding Vivienne in your arms and packing a box of things you wanted to keep, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around you. His embrace was strong and steady, and as you buried your face in his chest, the weight of your grief spilled over. He held you tightly, silently, as you cried into his chest for what felt like forever, until the room felt a little less empty.

When the moment passed and your tears had run dry, he followed you outside, where the Pogues were waiting. They stood together, their expressions heavy with shared sorrow. You couldn’t find the words, but they understood, their eyes speaking the silent language of loss.

Rafe took a breath and stepped forward. “I know you don’t like me,” he began, his voice steady but raw. “I know you don’t like having me around. But JJ’s gone, and I need you to know that Y/N  and Vivienne mean everything to me. I want you here, as much as you’ll allow it. To keep his memory alive for her. To be the aunts and uncles she needs—not by blood, but by choice.”

The group listened, their guarded expressions softening. “Thank you,” Rafe said, glancing at each of them. “Thank you for being the people you are, for being there for her. She’s lucky to grow up with you all around.”

A quiet nod from John B, a watery smile from Kie, and the unspoken promise of family settled between you all. You mouth them a grateful, “thank you” for not only being there for you but for listening to Rafe. In that moment, the weight of grief shifted, just a little, shared by those who loved JJ the most.

[egg-emperor]

In a cyberpunk world covered in smog, Eggman factories/theme parks and filled with scared civilians, empty shells, robotomized drones, robot servants, mind controlled slaves you'd probably be the only living being genuinely smiling and happy under Eggman's superior glorious rule. In a crowd full of frightened peasants and empty shells that given up any hope of freedom, singing the daily egg national anthem , the sheer genuine joy and enthusiasm on your face stands out like a beaming ray of light.

Your enthusiasm brings the egg immense joy, he would be pleased with your service and genuine loyalty.❤️

Yesss I love that. Most people were forced into it after he succeeded in taking over the world, whether by harm and threat or full robotomy and anyone who ever felt positively only did due to brainwashing or delusion of the kind of person he was and his plans for the world, until they actually had to live it

Now the world is dark and polluted with smog covering the skies and deadly theme parks, robots, and factories all around. There's no way to escape his powerful reign, it's all encompassing, taking up more and more of the land day by day and leaving everyone with no refuge from their new harsh reality

And all the people, his new slaves, stand lined up together now, forced to bow and sing praises to their new cruel, terrifying, diabolical emperor who towers high above them all, looking down on them so smugly with such pride, loving the high of the power and control as he makes them sing the daily anthem

Everyone has had their freedom ripped away, some to the point they can't think for themselves anymore and have become mindless drones from robotomy, trapped in robotic shells, or brains numbed and taken over by brainwashing or mind control and live as lifeless drones, chanting the anthem in monotone

And those who still have their mind intact to think are horrified and miserable, and ashamed if they were once deluded and helped allow it to happen. The anthem only forces them to come to terms with it as they're forced to sing words that affirm it, at gunpoint of the robots that surround them

While everyone else looks either miserable, scared, or blank and lifeless, with either crushed souls or devoid of one entirely, one face stands out in striking contrast to dull crowd, full of light and life and immense joy, with a bright passionate soul and adoration in his eyes and that's meee hehe 🥰

I sing passionately from the heart with great enthusiam, so delighted to celebrate our brilliant and handsome emperor. I'm the only one who is truly genuinely happy to live under his rule in a world that's been owned and changed by him in every way, with no delusions about it involved

I knew exactly what I was signing up for- not that I really had any choice or say anyway because the world was going to be his and he was going to do whatever he wants, no matter what we thought. But I think it's all so beautiful because it's what he wants and makes him happy so I want it for him too

He can immediately spot my smile standing out from the rest and it makes his smile grow into a wider grin. He's getting all the attention and praise he's always desired and never cared how much the people wanted it and was happy forcing them- but it does feel good that someone truly wants what he wants

Who is truly loving and loyal, passionately lives by the rules of the empire, and means every word of the anthem. Who looks at him with nothing but immense love and joy like he truly deserves. It's a big extra ego boost when he's already on top of the world figuratively and literally with it at his feet

I'd be even happier to see how it makes him happy to know he's deeply loved and appreciated and put an even bigger smile on his gorgeous face! 💜 And perhaps eventually he'd say "With enthusiam like yours, you should come up to the podium and announce my arrival before I make my epic entrance!"

I'd be honored to announce and say "All hail our beautiful, powerful, mighty emperor of the glorious Eggman Empire, Lord Eggman!", setting the example of how a true most loyal and faithful member of the empire should act, stepping down and bowing to him when he enters the spotlight with a prideful stride

The idea of him and I literally being the only truly ones happy left, himself for getting everything he's ever wanted and me because all I wanted was for him to get what he wanted is wonderful. And we get to be happy and enjoy and celebrate this new beautiful perfectly twisted world together. His world 😍

[tennessoui]

For whenever you feel in the playmaker writing mood, I would love to read the scene where Anakin comes home to baby Ray and is just like what. what.

here you go!!! 2.5k of playmaker au, specifically anakin coming home to find that obi-wan has stolen a baby from a grocery store

(warnings: playmaker anakin? specifically playmaker anakin about babies?)

(2.5k)

When Anakin opens the door to his house to the ear-splitting sound of a baby crying, he almost closes it once more to check that he has the correct place. But of course he does. No one else’s entryway could possibly be this messy. 

Luke and Leia’s shoes are thrown in a hectic pile by the doormat, Luke’s football balanced precariously on the toes of his cleats. Leia’s school bag has been discarded on the short bench Obi-Wan had wheedled one of Anakin’s men into installing, built into the wall. 

It’s definitely Anakin’s house; over the wailing of the strange baby, he can hear his own baby’s low murmurs. Frozen as he is with the door half open and half closed, he can even hear the distinct whine of Luke’s voice.

His eyebrows furrow; he steps forward, firmly into the house, and shuts the door behind him. His jacket has barely cleared his shoulders before the pattering of little feet greet him.

“Make him give it back!” Leia’s voice shrieks out. It’s a particularly grating sound, one that Anakin hasn’t heard for several years and absolutely has not missed.

He closes his eyes and intentionally hangs his gun holster on the hook next to his jacket. “What did Luke take, baby?” “Nothing!” Luke cries. He sounds just as distraught as his sister. Anakin exhales slowly through his nose before turning around and crouching down. One twin immediately comes within the circle of his arms. The other hangs back, looking distrustful.

Which is probably why Leia will be the one to inherit his criminal empire when it’s time. 

“What did you take, Luke?” he asks his son, hefting him up into the air as he stands. “And whose fucking baby is that screaming?”

There’s muted movement from the other end of the long entrance hallway, and then Obi-Wan Kenobi rounds the corner, arms full of a baby swaddled in a yellow blanket. Its face is red from crying, but it’s seemingly more content now. A pacifier has been stuck in its mouth at least.

“Yours,” Obi-Wan says primly, adjusting his hold on the baby.

Anakin squints at him and then down at the child. “Well that’s a fucking lie, sweetheart,” he says, taking a cautious step forward. Leia skitters to duck behind his leg.

Smart girl. If Obi-Wan thinks—what, that Anakin slept with a woman a year ago while on a business trip—who knows what the boy is capable of? After all, Obi-Wan values loyalty above all else. 

“Cause I don’t remember anyone else in my bed but you,” he adds, eyes examining the play of shadows and emotions across Obi-Wan’s face. The other man’s hair is up in a loose bun. He’s wearing the remnants of a respectable suit. He doesn’t look like a boy who is planning to cut his losses and run out of Coruscant tonight.

Not that he’d get far, of course, but he certainly doesn’t look like a man who is planning to try. 

“If people are only yours by blood, does that mean I’m free to go?” Obi-Wan replies archly, turning his back to Anakin and marching into their living room. 

Anakin watches him go, speechless. 

He crouches down on the ground again and carefully places his son back onto the floor. “Luke, baby, Leia,” he says, unable to take his eyes off of the empty doorway. “Go upstairs.”

“Make him give it back, Daddy,” Leia says, tugging on the edge of his shirt. “I don’t like it.”

“Mhm,” Anakin replies. From what he’s seen so far, he isn’t much of a fan either. “Go.”

They go, and Anakin allows himself a few moments to stare after them consideringly. One day, eventually, he will need them to be something more than well-trained puppies. He will need them to be something even more than attack dogs.

But that is a conundrum for a later day. Now, he stands on his feet and follows after his boy, who he can still hear gently murmuring in the living room. 

He leans against the doorway. Obi-Wan does not look as if he is going to throw anything at him or harm him bodily in any sort of way, but one can never be too sure with him. It’s part of the reason Anakin finds him so fascinating still after all these years.

But then, his little mouse has never so far stooped to physical violence. That’s more of Anakin’s beast.

“It’s not mine,” he says. It’s best to state these things clearly. “I want it out of the house. It’s upsetting the children.”

Obi-Wan does not look up from the baby in his arms. Its eyes are closed now, expression lax and trusting. The pacifier is still in its mouth. “She’s mine,” he murmurs, thumb rubbing over the skin of its cheek.

Anakin stills, half a step forward.

It’s two offenses in one blow. Obi-Wan’s attention is solidly on something not Anakin, when Anakin is speaking so directly to him. And if Obi-Wan says the baby is his, then he’s implying that he slept with some woman a year ago during one of Anakin’s business trips.

The image the sentence puts into his head has Vader roaring to the surface of his mind between one blink and the next. “If you think I would not hurt an infant for the crime of representing a past dalliance of yours, you are gravely mistaken,” he warns, hand clenching into a fist at his side. “So speak carefully, little mouse.”

“Monster,” Obi-Wan says, keeping his tone light. Keeping his eyes away from Vader’s face. He carefully raises the baby up and tilts his head down until he can rub his nose ever so gently against the baby’s own tiny nose.

“Yes,” Vader says stiffly. “So get rid of it or I will.”

Obi-Wan finally looks up at him. His eyes are blue steel.

Fuck, Vader hasn’t seen him look this stubborn about anything since he was tried in criminal court for the murder of Savage Oppress.

“No,” Obi-Wan says succintly. “She’s ours.”

This more than anything gives Anakin pause. “What.”

Obi-Wan raises to his feet and deposits the baby into a crib a few feet away. How had Anakin missed the fucking crib? When did Obi-Wan have the time to find a fucking crib?

“She’s our baby,” Obi-Wan says, running his hand along the edge of the crib. His head comes up and he gives Anakin a hard stare as if daring him to disagree. “She’s ours or she’s mine.”

There it is.

“You’re handing out ultimatums like that now, sweetheart?” Vader asks, stepping into the room and prowling towards his husband. “Think that’s smart, little mouse? Think you can threaten me like that? Think you can do that with no punishment?”

“Yeah,” Obi-Wan murmurs. His voice is rough. He moves to the outside of the crib, hands grasping the edges and body turned to face Vader as he approaches. “Because I’m serious, Anakin. I’m not going to give her away. I want her. You’re going to let me have her.”

“And its parents?” Anakin asks, boxing Obi-Wan in against the crib. “Its actual parents?”

“She’s adopted.”

“Did you steal it from an orphanage, Obi-Wan?” Anakin’s eyebrows fly up at the very idea. He still has to coax his little mouse into doing things of even a slight criminal nature half the time. His little mouse hates sitting on Anakin’s lap during his meetings, hates all the trappings and police tape that comes with being a mob wife.

It’s his past. It’s his sheriff father. It’s the talons of Qui-Gon Jinn’s ghost still sunk deep into his soul. It’s all of that shit, and despite it all, Anakin loves him. As much as a man like him, a man like Vader can love.

Obi-Wan’s flash away for a second. It’s an admittance of guilt. His cheeks begin to flush red.

“No,” he says and hesitates, pink mouth torn open. Anakin’s face breaks into the beginnings of a smile. His hands fall to rest on his waist. What’s going to come out of Obi-Wan’s mouth next will probably be the best confession he’s heard all day. “I stole her from her stroller.”

Anakin’s mouth falls open. 

“Excuse me?”

Obi-Wan’s chin juts up as he frowns at Anakin. “I stole her from her stroller. Her parents left her unattended. And–I wanted her.”

He isn’t sure if his eyebrows will ever lower. “You wanted her.”

“I wanted a baby,” Obi-Wan says very clearly. “The twins are old and they hate me now. I wanted a baby again.”

“The twins are not old,” Anakin replies automatically. “They’re ten. They’re children.”

His little mouse’s lips stay curled in a stubborn moue of defiance. 

“They don’t hate you,” he adds. “They adore you, baby. You know that. What they hate is that thing,” his hand gestures over Obi-Wan to encompass the crib and the baby. “Leia begged me to make you give it back.”

“Oh and how would that go?” Obi-Wan sniffs, looking haughtily down his nose at Anakin, as if he weren’t the one who just stole a fucking baby in broad daylight. “Oh, so sorry, I didn’t mean to take your baby, I just tripped and fell and it landed in my grocery cart by accident.”

“You stole a baby from a grocery store?” 

But Obi-Wan’s eyes are narrowed in consideration and a second later, he’s changing tactics. His hands slip from their defensive position on the crib’s edge, run up the length of Anakin’s arms to rest on the sides of his neck. His eyes go half-lidded. His mouth gets all glistening and wet. “Daddy,” he says.

“No,” Anakin says. “You can’t fuck your way into a baby, Obi-Wan—”

“I thought that’s how most couples got a baby,” Obi-Wan points out.

“You can’t banter your way into a baby either, fuck, Obi-Wan—”

“I can,” his boy says confidentally, pushing up against Anakin’s hips. “Because I really want a baby. And I already found a baby. Her name is Rey.”

“No, don’t name it, you’ll get attached to it—”

“I love you,” Obi-Wan murmurs. He pushes forward and stands up on his toes so that he can rub his nose along the line of Anakin’s jaw. “I want to raise a child with you. Just you and me, she’ll never know another parent. Don’t you want to raise a baby with someone you love? Someone you trust? You’ll never have to kill me. You know I love you—every part of you.”

Unlike your first wife, goes unsaid. Unlike the mother of your children.

It doesn’t go unheard.

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin groans, but he tightens his grip on the boy’s waist. “You stole a baby.”

“I murdered a good man for you,” he murmurs, dragging his lips over his. “I murdered a bad man for the twins. I stole a baby for us. Look what you’ve made me. Look what you’ve turned me into, darling.”

Anakin bites back another groan. His little mouse plays dirty now that Anakin’s taught him how. Or maybe that’s always been a part of him. Maybe that ruthless streak, that cunning brutality has always been there; maybe that’s what drew him to the undercover detective in the first place.

“Did you kill the parents at least?” Anakin asks, eyes falling closed. He cannot believe the words coming out of his mouth.

He cannot believe how easily he gave into those fucking blue eyes. 

“That’s your job,” Obi-Wan tells him, pressing a kiss to his lips. For a reward.

“Did you mock up the paperwork to make it look like a legal adoption?”

“Also your job,” Obi-Wan says again, brushing another kiss to Anakin’s face. Anakin’s hand grips the back of Obi-Wan’s hair, holding him close and in place.

“Obi-Wan…”

“I told the twins though,” Obi-Wan says quickly. He hooks his leg around the back of Anakin’s calf, winding his arms solidly around his neck.

“Yeah?” Anakin murmurs, letting his other hand trail down over the small of his back. “How’d they take that, baby?” Obi-Wan is silent. 

“Yeah,” Anakin says. “That’s what I thought.” Sharing their Obi-Wan’s attention? It’s bad enough they have to split it with each other and Anakin. Now there’s an entirely new thing demanding Obi-Wan’s time. His attention. His arms.

Anakin scowls automatically, just thinking about it.

“They’ll get used to her,” Obi-Wan says. His hands tighten on the back of Anakin’s neck. “They’re growing up. They don’t need me as much anymore.” His eyes are wet and big when he looks up at Anakin. He’s almost too tall to pull the move off anymore. “I just…I want to be needed, Ani. You’ve gotten me spoiled on the feeling. And I—I can’t go back to the other way.”

“Baby, of course we need you,” Anakin says, using his grip on Obi-Wan’s lower back to push him pointedly up against his covered cock.

Obi-Wan sighs into the kiss Anakin pushes on his mouth, and when he pulls back, he looks so fucking despondent that Anakin’s patience for anything but wiping that look from his little mouse’s face evaporates.

“Stop it,” he commands, thumbing at the skin beneath Obi-Wan’s eye rather roughly. “Stop it, we’re keeping it. Fine. We’re keeping it.”

“And you’ll talk to the twins?” Obi-Wan’s voice wavers. There’s at least a thirty percent chance it’s genuine emotion. “Tell them that she’s family? And that means they must protect her? Care for her even if they don’t love her?” Anakin’s eyebrows shoot up. Even though he’s been dead three years, Qui-Gon Jinn’s ghost seems to haunt half of Obi-Wan’s deeply rooted ideas and values. 

“I’ll get Rex and Ahsoka to start on the papers,” Anakin mutters, pulling away reluctantly from his husband’s all too soft and willing body—now that he’s gotten his way.

The baby—Rey, Anakin supposes—begins to whine once more.

Immediately, instinctively almost, Obi-Wan flips himself around so that he’s facing the crib, peering into and reaching down.

Out of curiosity, Anakin slots himself up against his back, unable to resist the slightest roll of his hips.

The baby blinks up at him. Her face is all squishy and red. Her eyes are clear, blue still, though Leia’s eyes were blue when she was born. Rey’s fingers dance in the air as she reaches for Obi-Wan plaintatively. 

The twins are not going to be happy.

But Obi-Wan is. He’s incandescent as he allows her to wrap her tiny fingers around his index finger.

“Does she at least have red hair?” Anakin murmurs, fairly plaintative himself. “It’ll be easier to trick myself into loving her if she looks like you.”

“She’s mine,” Obi-Wan replies, looking back at him slightly, hand still tangled with the infant’s. “You’ll love her.”

It still sounds like an ultimatum.

Anakin sighs; Anakin capitulates.

[lalunanymph]

shaped like home. kakucho

. . . his safe space will always be you.

tw. suggestive content, talks of death, food mention, an injury mention, scars, big scary men who are soft n nurturing bfs

Nirvana was in the shape of a man with incongruous eyes, a scar running down his face and his full lips twisted into a smile as you laid in his arms, cosy from the fresh rays of a Saturday morning.

Home was the familiar mould of his chest underneath your cheek, his skin smelling of pine and musk, the scent seeping into your thin nightgown. He looked down at you, smiled, and you swore your heart could’ve burst out of its ribcage, singing a sweet tune.

You once told him that his eyes reminded you of rubies and diamonds; how they glinted with warmth even when his face was unsmiling. How you were drawn to his kindness and goodness, especially considering his height and forbearing aura. 

Scary guard dog privileges, you had once joked when you both walked through a busy night market street, hand in hand; his fingers twitching slightly from the shock of your sudden observation. He did not retort, nor did he rebuke you. Rather, he gently squeezed your palm, holding you closer to his side, exactly like a loyal canine. 

That was the thing about Kakucho—his loyalty could move mountains.

When he believed in a cause—believed in you—Kakucho would move heaven and earth to be next to you as you fulfilled your dreams. Even if it was borderline silly like wanting to bake focaccia bread at 3AM or going rollerblading when you didn’t have much stamina and physical strength to begin with. 

He would get flour up to his elbows; catch you before you fall and tend to your scrap knee with barely a grimace. A sturdy presence you could always rely on, that sometimes you wondered—feared—when would it be his turn to do the relying upon? 

Behind the man was the boy who had everything taken away from him.

You sensed the wounded inner child in his touch—the way he would not let you go after waking from a nightmare, the twitch in his brow when you tell him you’d be out late drinking with friends; the slight tremble of his breath after every soul stealing kiss you both shared.

Every minute gesture, every quirk of his downturned lips and lingering touches spoke one harrowing insecurity loudly and clearly—don’t let me go. 

You wouldn’t. You couldn’t. 

Not when his large palms are clasped around your waist, holding you up while his slick cock languidly thrusted in and out of you. His touch was neither firm nor gentle; it didn't bruise, and yet, it was steady enough to leave light indents in your plush flesh. His pretty face was contorted into pleasure, those unique, incongruous eyes growing hazy from the enticing grip of your walls around his length. 

So good for me, he praised against your throat, his words lost in a hazy murmur. So beautiful for me. 

You believe him. It’s hard not to. 

When he woke up with you curled against his chest, Kakucho was not one for believing in the goodness that fate has bestowed on him until he feels you smiling into his scarred skin. Amongst many other things you loved about him, those old lacerations were your favourite. They told a story, one you loved to map out because sometimes, there are some things no one can talk about even after years have passed.

A story of his bravery, his strength, his lasting endurance.

The wholeness of him and the lives he led before meeting you. 

They seem to ripple like a churning sea when he dreamt; his unconscious murmurings born from a world you did not have access to; the still waters you wished sometimes you could dip into just for a split second to discover what made Kakucho Kakucho. 

You’re staring at me again, he sleepily blinked his beautiful eyes opened when the sun rose. Morning, angel. 

Morning, you replied, finding his lips, the sweetest start to any day. 

One night, he pulled you into his arms, the Bluetooth speaker in the kitchen playing a song you both recognised from your early dating days. Reminding you of those moments suspended in time when he used to bring you out to restaurants which would take you months to save up for just one meal, midnight car rides which ended up with you on his lap, lips pressed sweetly together and hours spent in parks talking and musing about life in its totality. 

He kissed your temple, asking: “Do you believe that we have somewhere to go to after death?” 

You paused in your movement, head tilted to the side. “Hmm?”

“We’ve always been told that life ends at death. But, what if it begins?”

His voice was soft, compelling. 

You tried to match the sudden poignant atmosphere.

“Did something happen at work?” 

The Bonten executive does not reply. He exhaled against your forehead. “Just tell me if you believe in something beyond us.”

“I do,” you replied quietly after a beat. “I believe that there are many, many worlds out there which we do not know about and sometimes, if we’re lucky, we’ll go there.”

“What about if that person has done many atrocious things in their life?”

You squeezed him tighter. “Then, the person deserves even more grace.”

“Why?” His tone is fringed with subtle disbelief. “How can you say that when they chose a life full of violence?” 

Shaking your head, you hummed. “There’s always circumstances and choices. I believe they both influence each other closely. Everyone has a choice, but sometimes, circumstances can be cruel.”

He doesn’t reply. 

Neither did he come to bed that night, and you made that discovery when you turned to his side and found his sheets cold. You slowly slipped into your cardigan, pushed your feet into a pair of fluffy slippers. He was in the living room, slowly sipping on a glass of Scotch, gaze unfocused, high planes of his perfect face illuminated by the gentle moon rays. He did not startle when you entered and sat down next to him, laying your head on his shoulder.

 You don’t speak, and he doesn’t, either. 

Slowly, you felt him defrosting at your proximity. It started with a quick exhale, and the glass met the coffee table with a crisp click. His arm came to wrap around you, holding you close while the smell of alcohol washed over you like a comfortable wave. The ends of his midnight blue hair tickled your forehead, like how his mild stubble rasped against your cheek. 

“You should be asleep.”

“So should you.”

He exhaled a laugh. “Stubborn.”

“Kaku?” 

He tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Yes, love?” 

“You deserve gentleness, too.” He never expected you to say something this jarring yet tender; his resounding silence is proof. “Everyone does. In a world where nothing is certain, all we have to do is be kind.”

“Kind?” he echoes your words hollowly. “I don’t believe I have ever been like that.”

“When you play with my nephew, you’re kind.” You crept your hand up his defined arm, grasping his forearm in your gentle hold. “You smile at stray kittens. You always leave me an extra serving of whatever you bought or cooked. You’re there when people need you. You remind Ran to get enough sleep and Rindou to lay off too much sugar. You tell Mochi how much you appreciate his friendship when you’re drunk and Koko knows he can trust you with housesitting whenever he’s in Italy. You’re kind. I wish you could see yourself like how I see you.”

You finished your quiet soliloquy with a squeeze to his wrist. 

Kakucho doesn't say anything—he’s like that when he’s thinking, it took you years to understand him inside and out—but, he held onto you tighter and forgot about the Scotch he was nursing. Or, the regret that curled a little too close in the conflicted shambles of his consciousness. 

Discarding his moody fugue, he took you to bed, letting you melt against his side and drew patterns on your back until you dozed off. 

But, before you did, he kissed your forehead, and murmured:

“Sleep tight, Y/N. I’m glad you’re here with me—always... I'm glad to call you my home."

i miss him :(

© all works belong to lalunanymph. do not copy, repost or claim as your own.

[fullscoreshenanigans]

That soft, fond reflection that turns somber at the gravity of all Ray's given up—plans to give up—after Norman had been so willing to cast him aside for the two weeks leading up to their conversation.

[sisyphus-hye]

Miu Watanabe as your Girlfriend:

A/N- There's not enough joshi based imagines and i hope this starts a wave

• Miu is known for her lively and cheerful personality. Dates would be filled with energy, fun activities like karaoke, theme parks, or spontaneous outings. She would always keep things exciting.

• As a professional wrestler, Miu understands the importance of hard work and perseverance. She would be supportive of your dreams and ambitions, always encouraging you to push yourself and do your best. If you ever had moments of self-doubt or thought about giving up she would always be there to be a ray of sunshine to keep you going

• Being an athlete, Miu likely values fitness and staying active. You might find yourselves enjoying activities like going to the gym, hiking, or even attending wrestling matches together.

• Miu’s playful and mischievous side would make your relationship full of light-hearted moments. She might tease you in a fun way or play pranks, but it would always be in good spirits.

• If you're a fan of wrestling, you’d enjoy supporting her career. Watching her matches, cheering her on, and being proud of her accomplishments. You would always be in the front row with her cheer towel, showing that you're her #1 fan

• Miu's wrestling career would mean she has a busy travel and training schedule. As her partner, you’d have to be understanding and flexible with plans. But when you do get time together, it would be all the more special.

• Miu is known for her cuteness too, so expect plenty of sweet moments like holding hands, hugging, or sharing cute pictures on social media. She would make sure to express affection in subtle and adorable ways.

• With Miu being a fan of different idol groups she would love explaining to you all her favorite groups, members, and songs

• Miu’s bright and friendly demeanor would make her a hit with your friends and family. She would likely bond well with your circle and engage in light-hearted conversations, making everyone feel at ease.

• Miu’s sense of humor can be quirky and playful. She might make funny jokes or references to wrestling and pop culture, keeping the mood fun and making you laugh constantly.

• As a professional wrestler, Miu frequently travels for matches. This could provide opportunities for you to explore new places together, whether it’s attending a wrestling event or visiting new cities. She would love traveling to different countries with you by her side

• Despite her cute and fun side, Miu is a strong and independent woman. If you ever needed her, she would be fiercely protective and have your back, showing her loyalty and love.

• Miu’s passion for wrestling would be contagious. She might teach you some wrestling moves or talk about her experiences in the ring, and you’d likely develop a deeper appreciation for the sport.

• Miu’s competitive nature as an athlete could spill over into fun competitions with you. Whether it’s a game or a physical challenge, expect some playful rivalry.

• When Miu wins a match or achieves something significant in her career, you’d be right by her side, celebrating her victories and enjoying the success together.

• Wrestling and being an idol can be physically and emotionally demanding, and Miu might face injuries or tough moments in her career. During those times, you're sure to be by her side, offering comfort and reassurance.

• Miu’s sense of humor and positive outlook would make your relationship full of laughter. Even on bad days, she would know how to cheer you up and keep things light-hearted.

• Miu's sincerity and loyalty is something to really love about her. You would always know that she truly cares about you, and her gestures of love and attention would be heartfelt and meaningful.

• Even though she’s fun and energetic, Miu understands the importance of giving space when needed. She would respect your boundaries and ensure that you both have time for yourselves.

[vampcubus]

You get Kyo! Because this man is so sweet and he is certainly sweet on you~ Happy belated birthday!

The morning's rays of sunlight filtered through the windows of yours and Kyojuro's bedroom, the warmth of his back pressing against your chest among the tangle of the blankets being the first sensations you're gifted with as you slowly force your eyes open. Red tipped golden locks filled your vision, a soft smile gracing your lips. You let out a soft hum as you buried your face into Kyojuro's neck, causing him to stir slightly and let out a groan. "Mnngg..." "Shh, go back to sleep, baby, it's still early..." You coo, Kyojuro shifting to he could see your face with a sleepy grin on his lips and drowsiness filling his eyes. "Better to get up early to celebrate, isn't it?" He asks, voice deep and gravely from just waking up. You let out a soft giggle and pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose. "Since when were you a morning person, hm?" "Since the day the most amazing person was born rolled around, of course." "Oh? And just who would that be?" "You, firefly, who else?" Kyojuro chuckled, nestling himself deeper into your loose embrace, closing his eyes with a sigh. "If you wish to stay in bed though, I certainly have no objections. I love being held by you." "I wouldn't mind that in the slightest." You hummed, kissing Kyojuro's forehead as he let out a soft sigh of content. "Morning cuddles are always such a lovely treat with you, darling." "Anything my beloved wants on her birthday, she gets." Kyojuro spoke, voice filled with conviction. You blinked before laughing softly. "So that's where your good mood's coming from, huh?" "But of course! How could I not be excited about my firefly's birthday? You are the greatest to ever happen to me, taking away my worries at the end of a long day, letting me just drift along without needing to think too much, giving me your love and praise, showing me how much I mean to you. You're amazing and I want to do my best for you always." Kyojuro exclaimed, looking up at you with pure adoration dancing in his honeyed eyes. "I'll always be excited for your birthday, it's my chance to try to reciprocate my love to you. You know I'm always at your command, but I want today to be more special for you than any other." "Oh, sweetheart." You cooed, dipping your head down to lock lips with your beloved, your hand tangling in his hair. "You've already done such a good job doing so." Kyojuro felt butterflies appear in his stomach as he recognized the distinct change in your voice, his cheeks heating up in a soft scarlet blush. "Such a good boy for me~" Kyojuro gulped as he allowed himself to be at your mercy, just like the night before as you rolled the two of you over, your frame hovering above his with a deliciously wicked smile on your face. He wanted to do whatever he could to show you his loyalty, his love, his utter devotion to you, and it seemed you were going to take full advantage based on how you draped yourself over him and started planting lovebites all over his neck and chest, targeting the previous ones from your last escapade. Both you and him could hardly wait.

AAAHHHH BEST BIRTHDAY GIFT EVER!! THANK YOU SO MUCH, GLITCH! 🥰🥰

the fact that i was spooning him when we woke <333 you know me so well. gosh this was so very cute. i will be rereading this over and over 💕

[princesssarisa]

What are your favorite romantic tropes in love stories?

Good question. This requires some thought...

I generally like slow-burn and friends-to-lovers, including childhood friends-to-lovers. Dislike-to-friendship-to love is fine, as are characters who like each other but feign dislike because they're too proud or afraid to admit it (e.g. Beatrice and Benedick), but full-blown enemies-to-lovers (i.e. people who are dangerous to each other) I don't care for. What matters is that there be warmth, tenderness, joy, preferably humor, and understanding between them.

That said, I enjoy classic fairy tale Love At First Sight in the right context, as well as grand, sweeping Romantic passion, just as long as it's handled in a way that feels sincere, not shallow or caricatured.

I like couples whose personalities contrast with each other in complimentary ways, but also couples who have qualities in common that most other people around them don't share. For the best couples, both of these things are true.

I also insist (for the most part) on egalitarian pairings with mutual respect, mutual feelings, and mutual power in the relationship. If one partner has more power in terms of status, wealth, or other external factors, then the other has to equal it with the emotional power she wields (or sometimes he, but usually she). Equal character development on both sides is good too, and a good balance between that development and acceptance of each other, flaws and all. While I love Disney's Beauty and the Beast, I do slightly dislike the fact that the character development is so one-sided, with the Beast changing so much more than Belle does, and he changes so much that I have asked myself sometimes if Belle really loves him or if she just loves a role she's taught him to play. And part of what makes Pride and Prejudice so good a love story (at least to me) is the balance it strikes: despite pop culture misremembering it as a "woman changes man" story, Elizabeth and Darcy are both flawed and both change, yet both keep the same core personalities they always had, and both stay imperfect (improved, but imperfect), yet come together anyway.

I like "jaded and innocent" pairings too. Not necessarily "grumpy and ray of sunshine," but someone who's had a hard life that's left them cynical about the world and about their own place in it, paired with a younger and more idealistic person who unexpectedly helps them rediscover their own inner idealism, and who sees the goodness in them that they had lost sight of in themselves. I especially like these parings when the jaded partner is a woman, though the more common pairing of "innocent girl, jaded guy" is fine too.

For that matter, I always like couples that subvert gender stereotypes; I adore strong women and emotional men. One trope that's sometimes especially therapeutic for me is when a woman adores her male love interest, but values other things (her responsibilities, her morals, her loyalty to other women, etc.) just as much, if not slightly more, while to him, personal relationships are everything, particularly the love he shares with her. They have to somehow resolve this difference, which preferably they do without teaching her to prioritize her man above everything. I enjoy this because more often, we see it in reverse: to the woman, love is everything, but to her man, love is just one aspect of life, and other duties matter more to him than she does. I think my desire to invert this trope is part of why I've written a gender-bent version of The Magic Flute. Let the girl be the one who sets out to find romantic love, but then finds a bigger community and calling, and let the boy be the one who temporarily gets pushed aside (until they finally unite as one in the end) for a change!

An element of rock-solid loyalty is also a plus. I don't care much for on-and-off romance arcs. Which isn't to say that I only ship couples who are perfectly functional. Far from it! But I like a sense of "even if we fight, even if we say terrible things to each other, even if you hurt me or we hurt each other, I'm not giving up on you; or even if I do leave, I still care about you and I don't want you to suffer." This is one thing I like about Heathcliff and Cathy from Wuthering Heights, that lets me see a sublime beauty in their love amidst the toxicity: neither one would ever dream of permanently ending their relationship (though tragically, neither fully realizes this about the other until it's too late), and while they sometimes say terrible things to and about each other, they don't do terrible things to each other. I'll die on the hill that in the book, Heathcliff marries Isabella for her inheritance to spite Edgar, not to hurt Cathy, because Cathy knows he doesn't love Isabella and he knows she knows. They care more about each other's wellbeing than pop culture thinks they do.

To me, nothing is sexier than when a couple cares about each other's wellbeing; that's what love should be. I loathe seeing selfish, possessive love glorified just because it's "passionate." Support, generosity, empathy, sacrifices... those are things I like.

I hope this wasn't too much of a novel.

[legendary-pink-dot]

Home at Sunset

Pairing: Francisco "Catfish" Morales x reader (no gender specified, but female in my mind)

Rating: Mature. A couple references to sexual activity.

Word Count: 1.2K

Summary: Frankie and his aviators. Sunrise, sunset, and all the moments in between.

Notes: No use of "Y/N". No mention of Frankie's canon child. Angsty as hell; I am SO sorry, Frankie and Frankie's emotionally tortured and misunderstood lady.

A sunrise

Civil twilight gives rise to the first rays of sun. It's a sudden flash in the cockpit as they reach the end of the Andes mountain range and the start of the ocean, where their getaway boat awaits them. Frankie gently nudges the helicopter a shade higher, his touch confident but featherlight. So focused he forgets to put on his aviator sunglasses to protect his sight.

"Alright, baby, alright..." As snipers treat their weapons as a beloved and animate object, so too does Frankie with every aircraft he pilots, simultaneously guiding them and giving them exactly what they need.

One final ridge to clear and they'll have put this mission behind them. A mission that had gone wrong right from of the start, their team leader ignoring his instincts in favor of greed, and Frankie and his teammates making the mistake of not standing up to him. The result was having to do things other what they went there for, and running against time to leave with their stolen money and their lives.

"Come on now, come on..." he croons, just as sweetly as he did to you every night when he was home in happier times. A touch more elevation, *right there, just like that,* that's all it would take to get over the peak. She's close, so close, and he's almost there, he's got you...

**bang**

The gearbox blows and the helo suddenly drops, a plunging freefall that brings fearful shouts from his teammates. Frankie is the pilot you can trust, the calm in any storm. That's why he's always chosen. He furiously recalculates, readjusts, recalibrates on the fly, letting his years of experience and training take over.

In the few safe seconds he has left, he makes a controlled descent into the smoothest patch of jungle he can find, fatally spinning out but saving his team.

The loss of their transport hurts more than their cuts and bruises, but it's not the most pressing issue at the moment. Their landing site is remote and full of angry villagers, half fearful of the intrusion and half eager to claim the bags of stolen money that fell from the sky.

The slaughter that happens next is not his fault, yet he supposes it somehow is. The team silently loads the loot onto mules while Frankie packs away every poor decision that led to this moment, leaving the heaviest of baggage to deal with later as they make their slow and perilous trek towards home.

One early morning

"They trust me. They're putting their lives in my hands. It's my job to keep them safe."

It was Frankie's usual justification for going on private missions after retiring from the service, and he had used it again just hours before he was set to leave, both of you still agitated and arguing well into the early hours past midnight.

He takes that responsibility seriously -- too seriously you thought, wondering why he was willing to risk himself and his newfound peace of mind again for a team that didn't truly appreciate him. It was a rhetorical question and you knew it. "What about your responsibility to me? To us? You never come all the way back from these trips, and I hate seeing what it does to you."

Frankie had merely shrugged, raising his hands as if to say, "I have no choice." You knew he didn't, in a way. His loyalty to his teammates, his comrades, his friends ran deeper than you could ever hope to understand. It had helped fuel your love for him, but was also the source of your greatest pain, having to help Frankie put himself back together every time a piece of him was broken off.

"It's just recon," he'd promised. "It's safe. Easy money and no flying. I'll be home in 3 or 4 days." His voice had been calm but you heard the premonition of doubt floating below it. Never a good sign. A good pilot trusts their instincts, and Frankie was one of the best.

You had clung to each other that night, resigned to whatever fate the mission would decide to bring you, the risk always present of him not coming back and this moment being your last chance to savor him. You'd rocked against him, close and tight in his lap for an eternity, chasing a high that usually came easily but for once eluded you. A premonition twinned to Frankie's that you couldn't let go of, or for.

You'd woken a few hours later to discover he'd left while it was still pitch black outside. He hadn't waited for that pre-dawn time you usually love to languish in together, when he quietly slides thick and hot and sweet inside you, free but moored, both of you suspended in time and feeling like the world is holding its breath just for you. You'd slept in too late to catch the moment. You wondered when you'll be allowed to capture another.

An afternoon

It's been a full 5 days without any contact from Frankie, and none of the team's partners had heard anything either. That wasn't normal, but it had happened before. Going no-contact during a private mission was critical for your safety and theirs. You couldn't do anything but trust, hope, and wait.

As you finish your lunch, it's raining hard. You reach into the hallway closet for your umbrella, pausing beside the accessory rack and noticing for the first time since he left that he'd taken the wrong pair of aviator sunglasses with him. He was supposed to take his usual mission pair with the polarized lenses for high contrast, but had apparently taken his daily-wear mirrored chrome ones instead. "Just recon. No flying," he'd said. Right.

The same dread from that earlier promise returns and throttles you. You wish wherever Frankie is right now and whatever he's dealing with, that his vision is clear. It's the best you can hope for.

The sunset

Cars pass your house without stopping, a dog barks, kids are in the street playing out their last few minutes of dusky freedom. The golden hour passed long ago, and you've sat through 7 of them now without Frankie, sitting at your kitchen table paralyzed with fear and doubt. This is your 8th and you don't know how many more you can take.

You know the sound of Frankie's truck intimately: the purr of the well-tuned motor maintained by a dedicated mechanic, how the gravel in the driveway crunches differently than when underfoot the lighter wheels of your hatchback. You hear it now and wonder if it's a mirage. This announcement of his arrival is a sound you'd almost given up hoping for, and you let out the breath you didn't even realize you were holding.

You sprint to the door and fling it open. Most people would see a tired but normal Frankie walking up your driveway, but all you see is a shell, a ghostly being you recognize from the homecoming of previous missions. It's less of a soul and more of an enclosure for heavy burdens like relief, survivor's guilt, and personal recriminations. Your heart leaps and you forget every frustrated, hopeless word that was said the night before he left.

He drags himself up the flight of steps and falters. You see yourself reflected in his mirrored aviators, and you gently reach out to remove them so you can search his eyes for what you need to see.

Night closes in, the final tint of daylight fades, and Frankie falls into your arms and breaks.