#you are both so different and you have both lost each other

[randomguy0ntumbir]

Ok so the Mario series does this beautifully. (TLDR below) We start with Donkey Kong, which is for all intents and purposes the beginning of Mario. Then we have Donkey Kong Junior, which changes some characters and mechanics but is straight-up a sequel to Donkey Kong. However, we also have Donkey Kong II, which released on the Game & Watch. It is not a G&W adaptation of DKJr, which got its own G&W adaptation, it is just... Donkey Kong II. Donkey Kong 3 is not a Donkey Kong game, it is sequel to the G&W shooter Green House. And Mario Bros. is disputably part of the Donkey Kong series, but would only be a sequel to the first as we play as Mario, who was only the player character in DK1 (and maybe II, I haven't played it), and the mechanics are most similar to DK1.

Super Mario Bros. might be a sequel to Mario Bros., it takes a lot of elements from it, but it mostly uses it as a base to create an entirely new type of game. Super Mario Bros. 2 (The Lost Levels) and Super Mario Bros. 2 (USA) were both, to some extent, developed as a direct sequel to SMB but had no relation to each other and were both released officially at a similar time. (Also VS. Super Mario Bros, which was basically a half-step between SMB1 and Lost Levels) Super Mario Bros. 3 may seem like the 3rd (4th? 5th?) Super Mario Bros. game, but it takes none of the ideas or themes from any game after SMB1, making it more of a direct sequel. Super Mario World is a direct sequel to SMB3, expanding upon a lot of its mechanics and would make the series seem pretty cohesive if you ignored SMB1's 2.5 other sequels.

Around this time the Game Boy released, and it got Super Mario Land, which may seem somewhat like a side game but that is mostly due the the GB's weak power, it is generally considered mainline. It got a sequel, Super Mario Land 2, which looks more like SMW but just plays like Mario (in general). The GB also got Wario Land, which we'll get back to. However, it also got Donkey Kong (1994), which seemed like a port of the arcade game but featured 96 original puzzle-platformer levels played similarly to Donkey Kong and with a similar plot and style, making it essentially a sequel to DK. It got a successor on the Game Boy Advance, Mario vs. Donkey Kong, which got its own sequel, Mario vs. Donkey Kong 2: March of the Minis, which played nothing like the first and was just based off the gimmicky side levels. That was followed by Minis March Again, Mini-Land Mayhem, Minis on the Move, Tipping Stars, and amiibo Challenge. However, Minis on the Move played nothing like any of the other ones, and was called Mario and Donkey Kong, while the rest of the games were called Mario vs. Donkey Kong, except for the last one, which was actually called Mini Mario & Friends: amiibo Challenge, but played exactly like the other vs. games.

Super Mario 64 was the Mario series' jump into 3D, but it wasn't a 3D game in the vein of SMW or something, it was an entirely new style of Mario with a completely different structure. Super Mario Sunshine was a sequel to SM64, directly evolving the structure and mechanics. But the next "mainline" 3D game was Super Mario Galaxy, which was 3D but designed linearly like the 2D games, and was in space. Super Mario Galaxy 2 was about as direct a sequel as is possible. Super Mario 3D Land was a 3D Mario game designed linearly like Galaxy, but otherwise had nothing in common, it took most of its style from the portable NSMB games. It got a sequel, Super Mario 3D World, which takes its visual style more from the home console NSMB games (I think). Then we got Super Mario Odyssey, which is a 3D Mario game that reverts to the structure of Sunshine. In this way, there are three largely unrelated series of 3D Mario Games; 64-Sunshine-Odyssey, Galaxy, and 3D. These are often thought of as one, and within themselves are pretty cohesive, but are very much different things. Captain Toad Treasure Tracker exists, which was a spinoff of 3D World, a continuation of the Captain Toad stages in 3D World and presented it as a sort of 3D World prequel. However, its Switch port presented it as a prequel to Odyssey, and the Switch version was ported to the 3DS, the Console with 3D World's prequel on it. There is also Bowser's Fury.

New Super Mario Bros. on the DS was a return to form for the 2D Mario games, and was briefly considered as the fifth Super Mario Advance game (a series of ports of the older games) but was very much its own thing. It got a sequel, New Super Mario Bros. Wii, which expanded upon the mechanics and style. However, after that it got the actual direct sequel, New Super Mario Bros. 2, which undid everything Wii did and expanded upon the style and mechanics of DS on its own. Until New Super Mario Bros. U came along, after 2, and ignored everything 2 did and expanded upon everything Wii did instead. New Super Luigi U is kind of a sequel to Mario U, but is more of a bonus level pack the length of a game, with the exact same mechanics, style, UI, etc, and also by being bundled with or as DLC for Mario U more often than not. Super Mario Run took its visuals and game engine from NSMBU, but is an autorunner phone game. Finally we have Super Mario Bros. Wonder, which while bearing some similarities to the NSMB games is intended to be part of the "core" mario series, hence the naming, making it, if anything, the 4th entry in 1-3-World-Wonder, though every other Mario game released between then firmly weakens this line of thinking.

Super Mario World 2: Yoshi's Island on the SNES was named as if it was a sequel but it took place in the past and played nothing like a Mario game. It got a sequel on the N64, Yoshi's Story, which played a little differently. Yoshi's Island got two sequels, Yoshi's Island DS and Yoshi's New Island (3DS). But Yoshi's Island also got a sequel, Yoshi's Woolly World on the Wii U/3DS, which had its own style but played and was designed exactly like Yoshi's Island. That got its own sequel, Yoshi's Crafted World, which was visually similar but (I'm pretty sure) played like Yoshi's Story. on the N64.

Wario Land: Super Mario Land 3 was like Yoshi's Island in the sense that is was basically an original game featuring someone from the previous game but it was named like a sequel for marketing. It was followed by Wario Land 2, 3, 4, and Shake it!, making for a pretty simple Wario Land series. Except for Wario Land VB, which was a direct sequel to Wario Land on the Virtual Boy and came out before Wario Land 2, but is usually forgotten about; Wario World, which was a 3D platformer on the GameCube and may or may not be a Wario Land game; and Wario: Master of Disguise, which was bad.

Back on the SNES again we got Donkey Kong Country, which took the character of Donkey Kong and adapted him into a side-scroller reminiscent of Mario. It got two numbered sequels, also on the SNES. The 3 games would get companion-pieces/ports on the Game Boy called Donkey Kong Land 1-3, which were trying to be the closest thing to DKC you could do on a Game Boy. Then there was Donkey Kong 64, which was a 3D adaptation of DKC. Then there was Donkey Kong Jungle Beat, which was played with the DK Bongos but by every other metric was a proper DKC game. Then we got Donkey Kong Country Returns, which is generally considered a reboot of the SNES games because of the relative obscurity of 64 and especially Jungle Beat. Returns then got its own Sequel, Tropical Freeze.

All of this is my own opinion, but it generally lines up with the Mario fandom's loose consensus. please don't debate any of the minutia here. Also this is not remotely close to a complete list, just the most important points.

TLDR: Almost every mainline Mario game is a sequel to another but almost never forms a cohesive series with the ones before those, leading to a monstrous amount of sub-series that often have nothing to do with each other conceptually other than being Mario platformers. I drew a diagram of this here:

@hbmmaster this was inspired partially by your vid

Before Disney reorganised the titles, the games in the Dark Forces series were titled Star Wars: Dark Forces, Dark Forces II: Jedi Knight, and Jedi Knight II: Jedi Outcast, and I feel it's a great loss that this pattern was not continued. There's something fascinating about every game in a series being the second one.

[mythalism]

It struck me how profoundly uninterested the writers ultimately were in modern elves and elven culture. After 4 games, Origins is still the only one to offer up any info on them (with 2 adding certain tidbits) & it really hit me how colored their view is by their indigenous coding such that the elves aren't really shown to have any kind of society/civilization when compared to the dwarves 4 example, a people on the brink of extinction facing an almost perpetual Blight, yet still not solely defined by their struggle against the darkspawn. I don't mean to pit them against each other, but once I made the comparison I couldn't unsee it. We're challenged to show respect and learn about their customs & history as soon as we enter Orzammar and u cannot gain their aid until u fully engage with & submit to their political demands (Halamshiral wishes it had what Orzammar has!), your only influence is who comes out on top, and even that is a decision that has to be made by really getting a feel of their society and their different wants & needs, depending on caste & political allegiances. Whereas u can stroll into the Dalish camp and nothing stops u from only tackling the main quest, which is saving them from their curse (which turns out to be saving them from themselves<-a clue that'll become relevant later) by ideally convincing Zathrian to kill himself, an elf whose Hatred of Humans has gone too far (however justified his thirst for vengeance is) so he can be succeeded by Lanaya, a city-born elf who, despite being kidnapped as a child and kept as a slave, bears no grudge against humans. I'd be more forgiving if this wouldn't set the tone for their portrayal in subsequent games & didn't turn into 1 of 2 major(&only!) themes they cared to explore wrt elves. This obsession w/ elves not being agreeable enough can already be seen in the conversations u can have in their camp where at least 3 NPCs apologise for not being friendlier and I guess to make up for this cardinal sin all the side-quests (2 conv+2 fetch-quests) reward u with cool loot ranging from prized possessions to priceless artifacts, & the fact that u can get your hands on 2 valuable books on elven history teaches us early on that with minimal effort, any part of their history, no matter how sacred, becomes available for consumption. It seems important to add that both books can be given to the Mad Hermit who says he's gonna wipe his ass with them (this also reminds me of when Marethari gifts Hawke the Somniari book for no reason & it gets added directly to your trash pile). Which brings me to the other big theme: elven history is not for elves to explore and reclaim (&any attempt is dangerous+must be punished). While dwarves are allowed to be stewards of their own history&culture, and their pursuit of reclaiming thaigs & lost history (&their deep respect & attachment to that history) is generally presented as noble, elves are afforded no such dignity. I never realised the discrepancy, but from the start you have no choice but to take a dwarf with u when exploring the Deep Roads, whether that's Oghren, Shale, Valta or Varric, you are a partner & a guest, and, while u may help them in their journey of discovery, they always retain sovereignty. The only equivalent would be us getting an autistic Dalish girlie w/ a special interest in elvhen history whenever they feel like expanding the lore, using them as a vehicle for that, then punishing them for their 'overzealous' interest in their own past.

Velanna lucks out by virtue of being a dlc char & becoming a Warden, but she's still presented as being too into the elfy stuff even for her own clan, with the final straw that leads to her expulsion being wanting to get revenge on the humans who tried to burn their clan alive & took her sister(or so she thought). I appreciate that she's not shamed for her interest in elvhen history, but it's telling that the focus is on how misguided her quest for avenging her people is, with even her clan, when u meet them, still blaming her for her sister's fate & saying they're better off without her (interesting that Justice also disapproves, while at the same time berating Anders for not 'striking a blow against his oppressors, so they can do this to no one else', but apparently Velanna should atone to her oppressors and 'teach them'). Her best ending slide also has her warming to humankind & saving a whole village of them, as if that was our primary concern/her biggest problem to overcome, not making peace with her sister's fate.

Speaking of learning lessons, Merrill gets taught a harsh one, and while u can be supportive of her, you cannot escape this lesson, whatever u do: it is the height of hubris for elves to try and reclaim their past (or think they have a right to it), only humans can safely do it. Another ostracized First, one may be fooled into thinking the objection to Merrill is only the blood magic thing, but her first quest makes it clear the question u r being asked isn't is she right to use blood magic or should she limit herself to safer methods, but does she have a right to her People's history? It's so explicit that Merrill invokes that very right, vir sulevanan, in order to get the Arulin'Holm, a tool 'as old as Arlathan itself', only, after performing the service to her clan asked of her, Marethari hands YOU this artifact that'd been in their possession since before the fall of the Dales and tasks u with holding her heritage hostage!! And instead of her being disqualified from being Keeper ever again, you're left to interview Merrill to see if she deserves smth that belongs to her & u can choose to keep it from her! Why?? Marethari could've just not given it to her. Ofc, this all comes to a head in Pride's End where Merrill is yet again denied agency by her Keeper, & worse still, that baton is passed directly to you after her death, with u having to accept your paternalistic role or else slaughter her entire clan bc they don't accept any other answer than u taking full responsibility for Merrill. And, if u still need it drilled into u what this is really about, her rivalry path culminates, not in her disavowing blood magic forever, but in smashing her eluvian. Her friendship path also makes me uncomfortable, the conclusion being her clan are too backwards to ever get it, but at least she's free to chart her own course now. Set by you, ofc. You have the final say now, remember? Still, this is the last time the Dalish are a faction with any sort of agency. Maybe that's why you can wipe them out both times.

In Inq, sadly, they're relegated to a brief stop on the map on the way to saving their colonizers, a formality in order to gain access to their ruins, 1 of their warriors, & have the pleasure of picking the Dales clean without all that pesky white guilt! They even call the quest A Dalish Perspective when you're still viewing them thru a settler's lens; they're a problem to be solved, a list of complaints, they have no interiority, no ambient dialogue & the only lines they have are strictly quest related. They also pay the ultimate price for trying to reclaim their history, their deaths as inevitable as your success in safely claiming them. Twice Inquisition asks u: isn't their history safer, then, in the Chantry's hands? Morrigan's whole spiel fits here, too, ofc, as a human mage who argues her (stolen)knowledge gives her more of a right to the Well than any Dalish could hope to have. I also find it sad that in JoH, you discover Ameridan, & instead of getting to talk to his surviving clan, the only conclusion to his quest is this: it's the elves' fault the Dales fell.

All of this to say, the conclusion 2 Bellara's arc doesn't come out of nowhere when you consider it a culmination of this throughline. You finally get to answer once and for all: do elves deserve to recover their lost history? At least you can say yes.

10/10 no notes. only thing i have to add is how interesting it is that the devs had an inkling of awareness of how harmful their writing of the elves was in previous games - epler mentioned how they took the criticism of how you can kill an entire dalish clan in every single game into consideration with veilguard.... and the conclusion was that...... "the elves had their time to shine"? and they should be relegated to basically set dressing in the background of a story revolving entirely around their own history and religion? and told "get over it. just move on." instead of just... portraying them with more nuance, sensitivity and empathy? maybe hiring some more diverse writers? a sensitivity reader/editor? or just ignore the problem entirely........ there is no war in ba sing se..... there is no elven oppression in thedas....

[sully-s]

Open in a different window to zoom in. So this is just a deep dive behind all the stuff I put in my last post I rolled back my picture before I did all the lighting and color changes to make certain details more visible. Fun fact I almost scrapped this whole picture at this stage because A. I was just burned out; this piece took me forever. B. As I kept getting more and more "neat" ideas to stuff in, I lost any real focal point, especially with the color scheme. After hours of trying to fix it in PS and failing, I was about to give up. I was like fuck it make it a night scene. Let me tell you all a world of lighting makes lol.

Anyways, enough about my struggles, let me give you the tour.

I love the idea that this corkboard was originally Phoenix's mood board in the beginning it just had his childhood pics from like the yearbook and that one time Larry got a polaroid camera. Then, a new year clipping about Edgeworth being Demon Prosecutor which led Phoenix to make his thesis about court drawings just so he could watch and see with his two eyes how much Edgeworth changed. - Then, later, he added Mia because she was his mentor. then Vinny (from the movie "My Cousin on Vinny") because like Vinny, Phoenix never understands court procedure but has very good instincts; and last Elle Woods who also went to law school for a boy basically his spirit lawyer lol. - Later, after Maya joined, she thought it would be funny to replace Phoenix's real reason to Steel Samurai. Also, it was fun because Will Powers was their client, so he should be their reason. Phoenix let them stay because it made Maya happy, and Phoenix knew that with Mia's death, she needed it. - I was going to add a sticky note from Miles that he approved, but I do like that Miles will never admit out loud or in writing that he enjoys the show. - A year later, Pearls tries to replace all the Steel Samurais with her drawings of Maya. Which Phoenix encouraged her to make during Maya's disappearance because facts. - Tid Bit: I was sad to cover up Will Powers' signature I really liked how it came out

Moving away from the mood board idea, I like that the cork board just became Phoenix's catch all. So his Law Degree which isn't the original it's just a sad printed-out version of what should've been his fancy embossed one. I like the idea that Phoenix never went to graduation. (Can't be bothered he's on a mission to save his childhood bff.)

Lastly are postcards from Edgeworth, his way of making up for all the years he couldn't write back to young Phoenix. - Also, this picture takes place some time after the 3rd game but before the disbarment.

Calendar whiteboard that I forgot to add the last row too so I guess in Japaniforina the months are only 25 days long.

I spent a frustrating amount of time trying to figure out the logistics of this paper trail. It really doesn't need to make sense It just has to make the room messier. - You can imagine Phoenix is looking over phone records or court stenographer's record.

So Edgeworth is a nerd; we all know this. But it annoys me just a tad that his nerd-isum is always just Steel Samurai (like I get it, it's canon), but all geeks have many fandom loves, okay. - So I just love the idea that Phoenix and Edgeworth (who are in a relationship at the time of this pic ) watch Better Call Saul, and they both bought each other a little plushie of the character they joke is them. -Edgeworth bought Saul for Phoenix (because of Saul's heart, not because he does shady practices), And Phoenix bought Kim (because she a really good lawyer who seems cold and is a workaholic who would break the rules for their Saul (used phoenix's badge in the third game )) - They keep each other's plushies in their offices, and if one of them stops by when the other isn't in, they put a sticky note on it. - Which we can see that Phoenix did need reminding because, as you can see, the date is 18th, and no mention of a dinner ;)

7. Now the whole reason I drew this picture was too show off my headcanon that Phoenix has a Harvey Birdman, Attorney at Law action figure that you know Gumshoe got him after Edgeworth vs. State happen because of Polly. And we all know that man would be a fan of old Hanabara cartoons. - I've loved this stupid tid-bit of a headcanon that it's been haunting me for years. That's it; that's all I really wanted to say with this piece, and look where it got

[pokemonshelterstories]

So, I have a Purrloin. She turns three this April, and she’s my sweet special baby I love with all my heart.

But, uh, she sucks at stealing. I know it’s supposed to be normal Purrloin behavior, but she has no interest in it and never has. I’ll hide treats in my pockets, and she doesn’t even care. Bats at my knee at most before going to play with a string toy.

We play a lot every day, so I don’t think she’s bored. Is there something wrong? Is it because she wasn’t socialized with other Purrloin as a baby (she was a feral baby dumped on a doorstep; she got sibling interaction but not much from the mom)? She seems healthy and happy otherwise but I’m a bit lost.

interesting! it sounds like she just doesn't feel any need to steal, so if she's happy and a vet has cleared her health, i don't think you need to worry.

purrloin kittens' mothers do help them learn how to steal in the wild, but it's such an ingrained behavior that they'll usually figure it out even when raised only with humans. they steal for two reasons: the first is for survival, and the second is because they enjoy the reaction they get out of their victims. in fact, they have a "social" stealing behavior that's slightly different from when they're legitimately trying to take something away because they want it! it's one of the ways purrloin play with each other, and you'll usually see it followed up by the stealer and their victim having a mutual grooming session.

it may just be that she's sated in both of those departments (food and play) and doesn't feel much drive to steal. you can try acting overly distracted when she starts batting at you- part of purrloin's stealing behavior is distracting their target by acting cute- but if she doesn't take the opportunities you're giving her, that's probably just how she is as an individual.

[animasola86]

LOST & FOUND 🫂 CH7

You spend the night in the woods and find solace in Daddy's arms. Meanwhile, Mommy isn't too happy he disrupted her plans for the day...

soft!Daddy!dom x Mommy!domme x little girl!reader

WARNINGS: F!Reader insert. NSFW! Explicit sexual content. Mommy/Daddy kink. Dd/Md/lg dynamics. Dom/sub undertones. Pet names. Age gap. Size difference. Frottage/dry humping. Fluff. Angst. Fear of doctors. Medical exams. Date night with Mommy. (More notes under the cut!)

WORDS: 6.3k 🔷️READ ON AO3🔷️ 1–2–3–4–5–6–7

A/N: So, spoiler but: in this chapter, Reader (more info on her listed in the last chapter's A/N) gets a birth control implant. Now, I am not an expert on birth control, not even that particular kind, I am just an author with a bit of research on her hands. And I will not explain in detail how it works or why I chose it, it fit my story telling needs, and that's why. Please educate yourself if you want to learn more and do not take a word I'm writing here at face value. This is fiction, and in fiction anything goes, exactly how I, the author, want it to go. ❗ (Please READ THIS if you're confused about the tags I listed this under!) ❗

Chapter 6 🔷️ Chapter 7 🔷️ Chapter 8

The two of you spent the rest of the night huddled together on the hard floor, the food Daddy brought spread out in front of you. You were sitting between his legs, warm and cozy with your back to his chest (and his groin to your ass) as he leaned over you to reach for the thermos.

You were snuggled into the hoodie he had put into your backpack, while both of you were wrapped in the blanket. It was a picnic in the dark, with only the flashlight pointed at the nearest wall to give some light. He said his chef (it was still a somewhat otherworldly thing in your mind to have a personal chef) had prepared all kinds of finger foods, and while you expected chicken wings or fries or maybe nachos, it looked more like these fancy little snacks you'd only ever seen in movies (canapés or something? You weren't sure).

There was also a container full of cut fruit: apples and strawberries, pear and mango, and another full of cherries and all kinds of berries. You tasted something of each, quickly feeling full. Daddy was sitting behind you, sipping the tea he brought. Occasionally he'd feed you something, and you'd do the same, giggling happily when you watched the cherry slip between his lips. He'd kiss you after, sharing the taste.

You felt good, safe and protected, warm and happy. A strange feeling. In the quiet moments you wondered if it was real. Maybe you were still on that park bench, dreaming these things up. But then you'd feel Daddy's hands around your waist, rocking you gently against him as he nibbled on your neck, and you didn't care if it was real or not. It felt too nice to nitpick.

When the first yawn broke on your face, he scooped you up and carried you to the bed, wrapped the blanket around you like a cocoon and sat on the edge beside you, rubbing his large hand over your hip. You looked up at him, smiling tiredly, wanting to ask him to join you, but the words wouldn't come. And the bed was really small also...

He leaned down and placed a chaste kiss on the corner of your mouth, lingering there a little as he watched you. “Sleep now, pumpkin,” he whispered, his breath ghosting your lips.

“What about you, Daddy?” you managed to croak out.

“I'll clean up our mess and will take the other bed, don't worry about me,” he replied, leaning back slowly.

“Let me help,” you mumbled, trying to get your arms out of the tightly wrapped blanket.

“No, it's fine,” he said, pushing you back down, his hand heavy on your shoulder. “It was a long day, you need your sleep, baby girl.”

You huffed a sigh, snuggling into the blanket, blinking up at him. “M'kay,” you pressed out under your breath, your lips pursing into a pout.

He gave a short chuckle and pressed his mouth to yours. “No pouting, pumpkin, go to sleep. Another long day ahead of you tomorrow.”

You inhaled deeply, stretching your neck to keep close to him, but he leaned back, causing you to slump down again. “What's tomorrow, Daddy?” you whispered, already fighting to keep your eyes open.

“Mommy has something planned for you, I don't want to spoil the surprise,” he said, his voice quieter as he stood up, his hand leaving your arm.

You gave an unintelligible noise before you sighed, your eyelids fluttering closed. “Okay...” you breathed.

“Good night, sweet girl,” you heard his voice from a little away.

“Good night, Daddy,” you mumbled back, inhaling deeply before sleep gripped you fully.

You woke up with a voiceless shriek, your eyes flying open, but there was nothing but darkness around you. Your heart was pounding in your chest, a cold breeze washing over your sweat-slick face. A whimper escaped you as you lay stock-still on the hard bed, the blanket wrapped around you in a suffocating manner. You couldn't remember what woke you, if it was a nightmare or dream or just the noises of the forest. Oh. Forest. Right.

The hoot of an owl brought you back to the little cabin in the woods, and as your heart slowed a little, you could hear the deep breaths, almost snores, from the other bed. Without thinking about it much, you scrambled out of yours and stumbled through the dark towards the comforting noises, ignoring the cold shudder crashing down your spine as you left the safety of your cot. The blanket was still around your shoulders, dragging after you, and when you extended a hand to feel where you were, your fingers brushed against something warm.

“Daddy?” you whispered barely audible, voice heavy with sleep, a hint of growing panic vibrating through you. The impenetrable dark around you was beginning to feel suffocating. He didn't stir, just kept breathing deeply. “Daddy...” Your hand was on his shoulder, moving up, blindly feeling around until your fingertips nudged against his beard, the scratching sound sending pleasant shivers over your skin, dispersing the cold that had settled there.

Biting your lip, your heart beating faster, you decided to climb into his bed. There was no space, he was already filling out the small frame, so you clambered on top of him, carefully putting your knees on either side of his hips (having to spread your legs quite far to fit him between your thighs) before you lay down slowly, resting your weight on his torso, one arm cradling his head, your cheek pressed to his shoulder.

A garbled snore escaped him, before his hand shot up, feeling around until it curled around your side. “Pumpkin?” he rasped, his voice so low it was a mere vibration through your body as you pressed your chest to his, trying to relax on top of him. “What's wrong?”

“Couldn't sleep,” you mumbled into him, your hand teasing his neck, producing more scratching noises as you rubbed your fingers into his beard.

He exhaled loudly, making your hair fly. His arms closed around your body as he shifted beneath you. “S'okay,” he muttered hoarsely, pulling you against him.

For a moment you just lay there, your eyes falling closed again, the steady beat of his heart and the warmth of his body lulling you to sleep once more. Then his hands moved, rubbing from your shoulders down to your rear, and when his long fingers curled around your ass, you gave a little squeak, suddenly wide awake.

You leaned back on your elbows, looking down at him, trying to, but the room was too dark to see anything but more shadows. Your hands cupped his cheeks, the feel of his beard a calming thing under your palms. He kept kneading your rear, somehow the blanket had slipped off, adding a cold breeze to the shivers that traveled down your spine.

He breathed loudly against you. “You have no idea how hard it is to resist you, baby,” he growled, his voice just a rumble in the air, a thrum against your chest. “If you do things like this... all I want to do is grab you, turn you around, spread you open and sink my cock into your tiny cunt.” His low words, so lewd and tempting, but frightening too, made you gasp softly.

His hands tightened around your ass cheeks, pulling them apart, kneading, fingers slipping along the hem of your shorts. You were breathing harder, feeling a tense heat growing inside you, low in your core, a little throb, a clench, and then you were grinding your pelvis into him, against the bulk of him, hard and warm.

He gave a low grunt, pushing you against him, hands heavy and scorching, even through your clothes. “I can't do this, pumpkin,” he muttered. “Not yet. As much as I want to, as much as I need to... ugh,” he groaned, bucking his hips up against yours. “Little temptress,” he breathed, one of his hands moving up to grab the back of your head, pulling you down until your lips collided with his, his tongue quickly forcing into your mouth, a desperate gliding and rubbing and tasting.

He kept talking between kisses, his fingers tight around your nape, the other still groping your ass. “Soon...” he growled, kissing you harder with each word slipping past his warm lips. “Soon I'll fill you up, fill you up so good, all mine, you're mine, baby, mine to fill up, mine to open and use, your cunt will be molded to my cock and mine alone...”

You felt hot all over, his kisses and touches and words melting into a strange sensation floating through your body. You squirmed on top of him, grinding into him, your thighs trembling with how far they were spread over the bulk of his legs. Your fingers dug into his hair, holding on, kissing him back just as hungrily, your motions guided by pure instinct, by need, by unbridled lust. Nothing you'd ever felt before.

Your panting breaths mingled with his groans, the rubbing and grinding getting faster, more intense, his hand bruising your soft flesh. You wished there weren't so many layers of clothes in the way, it all felt too much, too warm, your clit throbbing under the constant friction of your underwear and shorts pressing into it. The hand on your neck was heavy, pressing you down, keeping you glued to his mouth, his tongue licking into yours as if he wanted to eat you alive (a thought that made your head spin). You tried your best to mirror the motion.

The tension in your stomach grew and grew, coiling so tight you were afraid it would break you from within. That heat gathering in your core, in your cunt, felt like liquid fire, burning through your nerves, setting everything aflame. Whimpers left your throat, your hands gripping his hair tighter, your hips rutting into him with desperate need now. His hands moved, gripped your waist, started pushing and pulling you over the bulge in his pants, a consistent pressure, burning friction, a deep shudder.

And then the lights came as you gasped into his mouth, a stifled little “Daddy!”, a swarm of fireflies dancing at the edge of your vision, your breath hitching in your throat, your heart skipping a beat. You felt your orgasm crashing through you like a wave, the first rough impact made you stiffen, then turned into a gentle lapping as it glided through you, spreading from your core into your trembling limbs, until your toes curled and your fingertips tingled.

He held you as you shivered, erratic breaths fanning over his face, his own body hard beneath you. Still shaking, you buried your face in the crook of his neck, his hands rubbing over your back, gently smoothing down your jittery nerves. Your core was pulsing, throbbing, blood pumping just beneath your skin. A low thrum that slowly eased into a little buzzing, fizzling out like a sigh in the wind. A sticky warmth settling in your underwear.

“My good girl,” he cooed softly, his lips brushing against your ear, voice low and soothing. “You're alright, baby.”

You relaxed on top of him, practically melting into the hard shape of his body, a little boneless thing held by strong arms. Head empty, filled with cotton, no thoughts, except for a tiny nudge of something, of wanting to give back, of wondering how he felt, but you were too tired to voice it. He didn't seem to mind either way, only shifted slightly beneath you before you slipped into the warm embrace of unconsciousness.

This time you woke up to a rumble below you, a little bump that made you shift against a warm body. Grumbling under your breath, eyes too heavy to open, you snuggled into the blanket wrapped around your shoulders. Your legs were angled, knees pressed into your chest, your head slightly lifted, resting on something warm and solid.

A hand rubbed along your arm, a soothing noise coming to your ears. “Go back to sleep, pumpkin,” you heard Daddy's quiet voice, but the low thrum of it surged through your body, giving you the energy you needed to open your eyes.

Squinting into the light, you found yourself curled up on the bench seat beside him, your cheek resting on his thigh, his hand on your arm. The truck rumbled beneath you, a constant drone that almost lulled you back to sleep, but you forced yourself to wake up fully. Slowly you turned onto your back, legs stretched out as far as possible (they remained angled at the knees, sock-clad feet pressing into the passenger door), before you looked up to the upside-down view of the tall man behind the steering wheel.

He gave you a gentle smile and a short gaze, then focused back on the road. “Good morning, Daddy,” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes.

“Morning, pumpkin, did you sleep well?”

“Like a stone, apparently,” you whispered, looking around. “Did you... did you carry me all the way back to the truck? You could have woken me, I could have walked...”

“You looked so peaceful, I didn't want to disturb your beauty sleep, baby,” he said with a slight smirk, his fingers digging into the blanket, teasing at your armpit. You scrunched your nose, squirming against the touch, feeling your lips twitch.

“Did you get some sleep too?” you asked carefully when he pulled his hand back, brushing it over your forehead before gripping the steering wheel. Last night came into your head, hazy and fuzzy, a buzz in the back of your head and deep in your core. Heat crashed into your face. “I... I didn't mean to –”

“It's okay, sweetheart. I slept really good, you make for a great weighted blanket, so soft and cute how you snored right into my ear,” he teased, his hand back to caress your hair. You turned your head and pressed your hands to your face, hiding the blooming warmth on your cheeks. He laughed softly. “Don't be ashamed. And don't stress about sneaking into my bed. You are welcome to do so, it makes me so happy to know that you're comfortable enough with me to do that.”

You spread your fingers and peeked through them as he talked, his words burning the doubts away again. His fingers brushed over your hair (you noticed he'd loosened the braids and smoothed it out again). He seemed to have had a whole morning while you were unconscious. You wished you could remember how he carried you, probably on his arms, through the waking forest, tugged you into his car, positioned your head on his thigh...

You turned onto your side again, shuffling closer until your chin rested on his leg, your eyes directly in line with the bulk of his cock behind the thick denim of his jeans. His hand moved over your forehead, tucking a few stray strands back, before his fingers dug into your hair, grabbing a bunch of it as he tugged lightly.

Your eyes moved up as you watched him from under your lashes, your cheeks still warm, your hands resting on the side of his thigh to steady yourself. “Are you okay, Daddy?” you whispered, watching his face, the creases in the corners of his eyes deepening as he smiled down at you.

“I'm fine, baby. Why do you ask?”

You licked your lips, that little urge in your stomach crawling up until it sat heavy in your throat, making your mouth both dry and saliva to pool on your tongue. You looked back at the bulge in front of you, your fingertips itching to touch it, feel how hard it really was. Wanting to give back.

“I just... uh... did you... did you come... last night? When I...” you stammered, swallowing thickly.

“It's fine, pumpkin,” he said, easing your stuttering. “Don't worry about me.”

“But –”

“No,” he shot down your attempt to voice the growing need. To feel, to taste... You blinked up at him, frowning slightly. “Sorry, baby girl, we don't have time. Mommy is already very angry with Daddy.”

“Oh,” you mouthed, biting your bottom lip as you sank back into the seat, away from his crotch. Exhaling loudly, you curled up against his side, pulling the blanket back over your body. “I'm sorry...”

“Don't be, it's my fault,” he said quietly, his hand back on your shoulder, warm and heavy, a comforting touch. “I should have planned this better. But it'll be fine. We'll be back in town in a bit, and then Mommy can have her day with you. Try to relax now, I don't know what she's up to after your appointment, but expect a lot more walking and shopping and whatever else girls do, hm?”

You frowned, feeling something cold and heavy in your stomach. Slowly you turned your head to look up at him. “What appointment, Daddy?”

“She's taking you to the doctor, baby girl,” he replied nonchalantly, while you stiffened. “Don't worry about that, just a check-up, some precautions and all that jazz. You were not on birth control, right, pumpkin?”

You looked away, swallowing. “No,” you mouthed, curling more into the blanket, not really wanting to face the reality of things. You hated going to the doctor's office, but in the back of your mind you knew it was important, a necessary step to assure your new life with these generous people. You still felt weird about it, and the implications of it all made you a little nervous.

His hand rubbed over your arm. “You'll get an implant, darling, Mommy's got one too, it's the best way, won't hurt much either. No need to be afraid. And once that's settled,” he added quietly, his hand slipping down your front, giving your chest a gentle squeeze, “well, I can't wait to get real close to you...”

The innuendo wasn't lost on you (your cunt giving a little clench), but you focused more on his other words. It felt as if you didn't have much of a choice in the matter, they had already planned out your life, and while it was comforting on one side, it made you feel a little useless and trapped on the other.

Then again, you did sort of trust them, Mommy and Daddy, somehow you knew they only wanted the best for you, and if that one little inconvenience (that felt like a big stone in your guts though) would ensure that you could stay with them, hug them, kiss them, feel Mommy's fingers and Daddy's cock, then it had to be done.

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you exhaled loudly, grabbing Daddy's hand and cradling it to your chest. “Okay,” you muttered, snuggling into his side.

“It'll be fine, baby,” he said, squeezing your hands. “Mommy will be with you, she'll take care of you today.”

“What will you do?” you asked after a moment of rumbling silence, the tires droning over the road beneath you.

“I have to go to work, pumpkin,” he replied with a sigh. “But I'll be back tonight. We'll have dinner together and watch another movie, okay?”

“Okay,” you said again, closing your eyes as you let the noises of the car and his warmth lull you back to sleep.

“You're late.”

“You already said that...”

“Seriously, you gotta work on your time management. And maybe next time you could have the decency of telling me if you plan to spend the night somewhere else? I was worried sick!”

“I didn't think you'd care.”

“Of course I care! What is that supposed to mean? She is mine too, you know? Our little girl, Noah! Our! We take care of her, we, both of us! Get that into your thick skull!”

The voices were muffled, slipping in and out as you slowly regained consciousness. Inhaling deeply, you rolled onto your back, blinking your eyes open. You were in your bed, in your room, alone, a sudden cold crashing over you.

Listening to Mommy and Daddy's heated voices reminded you of your childhood, spent under the covers with your hands on your ears, trying to drown it all out. The constant fights, the screams and shouts, everything ultimately leading to your father leaving and your mother bringing in new men every now and then, before it all happened again, and again...

Your door opened, making you flinch and gasp. Mommy came in, confident steps before she slumped down on the edge of the bed, her hands grabbing yours. “Hello sweet pea, are you alright?” she whispered, cradling your hand, giving you a soft smile. Her cheeks were slightly flushed.

“I'm fine,” you replied, sitting up slowly, watching her. “Please don't be mad at Daddy,” you then said, furrowing your brows as you looked into her pretty face.

“I... Did you hear us? Oh baby girl, I am so sorry,” she cooed, scooting closer before she pulled you against her chest, her arms tight around your shoulders. “I was just worried. This is all new to us, too, you know? Daddy has to understand that he can't just whisk you away without telling me.”

You leaned against her, breathing deep, her soft scent, warm and somewhat flowery, filling your nostrils, calming you. “It's my fault,” you mouthed into the soft slopes of her breasts, the low neckline of her dress allowing for your cheek to press directly to her skin. “I... I distracted Daddy...”

Mommy laughed softly. “I bet you did, but that's not your fault. It's his for not being able to control himself.”

“I don't want you to fight...”

“Oh honey, don't worry your pretty little head. We do that sometimes, but it's nothing bad. It's natural and necessary to talk about things, even if we don't always see eye to eye. I still love and respect your Daddy, but he does need a little kick from time to time, you know? And I'd do it more, but he's kind of into it...” she added with a chuckle.

You still felt a little bad for disrupting their plans and making them argue, but the longer you snuggled against Mommy's warm body, the quieter those doubts got. At least until she suddenly grabbed your arms and leaned you back, looking at you.

“Alright, so, I did plan for our day to be a little less stressful, but it is what it is now. We gotta get you ready and then we have to go.” She stood then, grabbing your hand to pull you up.

It was a blur how she nudged you into the bathroom and made you brush your teeth. While you did, she untangled your hair and braided it into a thick side braid that she fastened with a little pink bow. You blinked, and suddenly you stood in front of your closet, your reflection showing you that you had stripped (or were stripped?), before Mommy pulled a pink sundress over your head. She crouched beside you and helped you into a pair of white lace panties, then pulled frilly ankle socks onto your feet and made you step into a pair of pink ballerina flats.

She was gentle, though anything but calm, time (or lack thereof) probably making her a little hectic. You didn't protest, just let her do her thing, feeling more and more like a little lifeless doll. Somehow that was a comfort, not having to think what to wear, what to do, but it also unnerved you a little. When you were dressed, she turned you around and smiled, then grabbed your flushed face and brought her mouth to yours.

Her kiss was sweet, tasted like the glossy stuff on her lips (peach maybe?), her tongue giving yours a gentle massage you tried to meet in equal. It was only a short delight, before she grabbed your hand and pulled you after her. Down the stairs, a fleeting look through the house, realizing Daddy was already gone, then through the front door and onto the yard, a car waited there and she motioned you onto the backseat before slipping in beside you.

A few more hectic heartbeats later, the car stopped again and she helped you out. You were shaking then, noticing the sign on the building. She held your hand and you just followed, trying to breathe easy, telling yourself it'd be alright. At first you felt invisible next to her, a mere child pulled along by a parent, when she talked to the lady at the reception, when she did small talk with other people waiting there as well, but then it was your name echoing through the room, your name being called, and you slipped back into the focus with a clenching feeling in your guts.

But Mommy stayed with you, led you into another room, told you to sit down on one of those reclined chairs. The air was tight, it smelled so sterile and clean, and you hated it. She must have noticed your erratic breathing, how clammy your hand was, and she stepped to your chair and cupped your face, rubbing your cheeks, smiling down at you softly.

“It'll be alright, cariño,” she cooed. “Be a good girl, okay? No need to be afraid. It's just a check-up, some questions, a few tests, and then a tiny poke into your arm. But you're a big girl, you can handle this, can't you?”

You wanted to sink into the floor, vanish from her warm gaze. You didn't feel like a big girl, you felt helpless and small and pathetic, and you were ashamed that at your age you were still afraid of doctors and needles and examinations. You felt horrible, your stomach so tense it hurt, your throat tight, mouth dry, lips wobbling uncontrollably, tears burning in your eyes. And one thought came back over and over again.

I want my Daddy.

It was silly, he couldn't help you through this any better than Mommy did, but maybe he could have talked you out of your fear, held you tighter, his low voice thrumming through you, calming you. Mommy did her best, but she was not Daddy, wasn't as tall and broad, as strong, there was no soothing scratch of a beard or the steady heartbeat in a warm chest, coarse hair tickling against your cheek.

You closed your eyes and inhaled deeply, thinking back to your time with him, thinking ahead to later, after, when you'd see him again. You realized then that it wasn't fair. Mommy was here now, holding your face, trying to calm you. And you remembered her words (“our girl... we take care of her, both of us...”), knowing she was right. You agreed to live with both of them, Mommy and Daddy, and you shouldn't choose one over the other. They both let you into their lives, made you a part of their routines, they both took time out of their busy schedules to be with you, help you, make it better.

And being here, getting a check-up, was a step into that better future, you knew it, you didn't like it, but you accepted it.

Exhaling loudly, you nodded into Mommy's hands. Opening your eyes, you attempted a weak smile, and hers widened before she leaned in to give you a quick kiss. She stepped away when the doctor entered the room, but kept a hold of your hand. You barely remembered his questions or your answers or what Mommy said to fill in the blanks. You couldn't concentrate on the explanations of whatever procedure you were supposed to be getting either. Your mind was reeling, in a bad way, but you forced yourself to stay strong, to not cry, and it took all of you not to flinch or wince when you felt cold gloved fingers between your legs.

You tried to shut it all out, go back in your mind to the better moments, Mommy's kisses, Daddy's touches, her soft laugh, his low voice praising you, pumpkin, baby girl, words like caresses, Mommy's fingers in your cunt (a different set of fingers parting your labia), the rise and roll of your orgasm as you dry humped Daddy this morning, how your clit had throbbed against your panties (how it was prodded at now, the hood lifted, a clinical gesture), your insides feeling as if frozen in place, forced to remain neutral (this isn't sexual, not sexual, a normal thing, an examination, nothing more).

Your head was spinning, your hand tensing around Mommy's, your eyes glued to the ceiling, not acknowledging what was happening below. Didn't matter, it'd be over soon, very soon (soon... he'd said... soon he'll fill you up... your cunt that belongs to him... for Daddy's cock to mold into his shape... soon).

And then it was over. You blinked in confusion when a nurse wiped something over your upper arm, then put a band-aid on a spot on your skin that felt tense and as if on fire, a warm feeling soothing through you.

Mommy was on your other side, rubbing her thumb over the back of your hand, smiling softly. Her other hand reached out and wiped under your eye. “My good girl,” she whispered. “You've been so brave. Barely cried. I'm proud of you.”

At first her words stoked your embarrassment, flared up the unease that had settled low in your guts (you already felt like a stupid child, she didn't have to talk to you like you were one too), but the longer she looked at you with her warm eyes, the calmer you felt. You blinked, licking your dry lips, taking a shuddering breath, focusing back on her. Maybe you were a child (no matter your age), but you were also hers, her little girl, she was taking care of you, and that was all that mattered.

Later you sat opposite her in a cute little restaurant tucked into a charming side street, soft piano music was playing in the background, the lights were dim and cozy, paintings of old architecture lined the walls, chatter was hushed. The waiter brought bread sticks and a menu you couldn't read, so you had Mommy choose something for you.

It felt nice, almost like a date. The wine arrived, and you were allowed one glass too, and when she raised hers, you grabbed yours and gently clinked it, smiling at her. “To new beginnings,” she said quietly before bringing the glass to her full lips and taking a sip, watching you over the rim.

You gave her a shy nod, taking a sip yourself, feeling the rich flavor glide over your tongue and down your throat, a fruity taste ending with a buzz. You liked it.

“Don't tell Daddy,” she mused with a chuckle. “He was quite impressed that you said you didn't drink, a kid your age no less. Now, I don't want to be the one to seduce you after all, but this is a special occasion, wouldn't you say?” She took another sip. “By the way, is there a reason you don't drink? Usually?”

You put the glass down, looking at it for a moment. “Well, I... I saw what too much alcohol could do to a person...” you replied quietly, unable to look into her eyes.

Her hand reached out to you, her fingers curling gently around yours. “Oh honey, I'm sorry. Do you want to talk about it?”

You shook your head, looking around the room. “No, it's fine. It doesn't matter anymore.”

“Hmm,” Mommy hummed, squeezing your hand. “If you change your mind, I'm here for you, always, okay?”

You looked up at her, meeting her warm gaze. “Thank you,” you whispered.

The food came then, pasta you couldn't pronounce, but liked all the same, nothing you'd ever eaten before. Mommy tried holding the conversation with simple topics like food or travel or exotic countries you might like to see one day. The more she talked, the smaller and poorer you felt. You had your dreams of seeing the world one day, but deep down you knew you would never be able to afford it. She, however, seemed to have seen it all already.

Though you felt a little jealous at first, you soon realized that this kind of lifestyle was open to you now. And while you imagined traveling the world with Mommy and Daddy, you opened up more and more, the fears and doubts of earlier falling off you bit by bit. By the time you'd finished your dessert (the most delicious tiramisu you'd ever seen and eaten), you were fantasizing about sitting in a gondola with Mommy, her arm around your shoulders, listening to some Italian dude singing as he steered you over the Canal Grande.

Mommy either kept holding your hand or bumping her knee into yours under the table, her other hand rubbing up your leg occasionally. It felt nice, she was so attentive when you did manage to say a few more sentences, smiling softly, her dark eyes wandering over your face. In a way it really felt like a date.

After a while, she was sipping on her third glass of wine, you gathered the courage to speak up again. “Can I ask you something?”

She tilted her head. “Of course.”

“I... uh, I told Da– uh, well, I'm... I'm not too comfortable... yet... to call you and him... uh, the names I'm supposed to call you... you know? In public? So I asked him for his name, and he said I could call him that when we were around people, and I was wondering... if –”

“Isabella,” she said with a smirk and her beautiful accent. “And yes, you can call me that in public. But when we're alone, I'd prefer... the other name,” she added, winking at you.

“Of course, Mo– Isabella,” you replied with a timid smile. She squeezed your knee under the table. “That's a really pretty name...”

“Thank you,” she laughed. “I think your Daddy, Noah, may see that differently. He only uses it when I screwed up somehow.”

“Oh,” you mouthed, blinking at her.

“But don't mind that, we do have a special relationship as you may have gathered by now. I do like it when he calls me by my name, with that deep voice of his. It really turns me on...”

Her confession made you blush, and you looked away, inhaling deeply. “M-me too, his... his voice, I mean,” you then mumbled, earning you another laugh and squeeze of the leg.

“Yeah? Well, I'm glad we share the same taste in men then,” Mommy said with a smirk in her voice. “Honestly, cariño, no need to be embarrassed about it. This is an open relationship, a love triangle if you will. We are sharing him, as well as he is sharing me, and I am sharing you, and however else you want to see it. And there's nothing weird about it. You are our little girl, you chose to be with us and we welcomed you into our midst. Say, after these few days, how do you feel about it? Do you still want to be our girl?” she asked, nudging your knee to make you look at her.

You nodded as soon as you met her gaze, almost a little too desperate for your taste, but it was true. You couldn't imagine being anywhere else at the moment. “I do,” you said quietly. “I really like it, being with you and Da– Noah, you've been both so kind to me, so patient and welcoming. I... I've never felt this safe before...”

Her features softened as she watched you, her dark eyes so warm and caring. Your own started watering the longer you watched her, recounting your experiences.

“I am really grateful,” you choked out, your eyelashes fluttering as you fought the tears trying to spill from them. “Really, thank you... so much, I... I have no idea how I will ever repay you for your generosity...”

She gave a soft chuckle, leaning over the table to grab your hand and cradle it between hers. “Oh sweetie, do not worry your pretty head about that. You will, very soon. You already made me so happy, and Daddy too, and I'm sure you will be just as perfect in the future. I honestly can't wait...”

She didn't say it, barely grazed the topic, but you felt it in your core, the implication. Daddy hadn't been as subtle about it, and you knew what was expected of you once you settled in more. Somehow the idea both scared and aroused you, and you wondered whether you could live up to those expectations in the first place. The last thing you wanted was to disappoint them, Mommy especially.

Apparently your worries were plastered all over your face, because suddenly she was there, had rounded the table, and crouched down beside you, cupping your face, resting her forehead against yours.

“It'll be fine, mi amor, do not stress,” she whispered. “All you have to do is submit to us, we will guide you through it all. You just let it happen. Do you want to let it happen? Do you trust us?”

You swallowed, biting your lip. “Yes,” you breathed. “I do, both, I trust you, I want this...”

“Good girl,” she cooed.

Her eyes bored into yours and the restaurant around you faded. All you saw was her, and when she tilted her head and brushed her lips against yours, she was all you felt. Warm, soft, the subtle taste of peach flavored lip gloss and red wine, and you soaked it up like a sponge, meeting the delicate swipes of her tongue, tasting her, feeling her...

She was gone before you could really register it, sitting back on her chair, licking her lips as she smiled at you. Your cheeks were aflame, but you didn't care who saw them. You were focused on Mommy, the beautiful woman who could honestly convince you to do anything with just a kiss.

What a dangerous gift.

Chapter 6 🔷️ Chapter 7 🔷️ Chapter 8

End notes: You may argue that some of the things that Mommy and Daddy do to pumpkin are dubcon, as they just “force” them onto her without asking first. Yes, maybe that's the case, but remember this is fiction and Pumpkin is too mentally unstable to decide on her own at the moment. It's for her own good, they really only want the best for her! There is no bad intent, even if it feels like dubcon.

Thank you for reading! New chapter every Saturday!

Up next: Mommy takes you to a special shop...

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[fanfic-scribbles]

Flowers For

Fandom: MCU Captain America/Avengers

Summary: You give Bucky flowers, because friends can give each other gifts and it doesn’t have to mean anything. This time, though, it ends up meaning everything.

Quick facts: Romance – Bucky Barnes/Reader – Nondescript Reader

Warnings: Fluff!, background Steve/Sam/Natasha, everybody’s a little shit

MCU Timeline: Set some nebulous time after CA:TWS (though while I do make allusions to the MCU “Civil War” we’re familiar with…it didn’t happen like that. I mostly just wanted Ned and MJ and Peter around for a cute mention.)

Words: 2787

A/N: I badly needed fluff and this just sort of happened. Enjoy <3

~

Bucky seems…sad, lately.

You don’t know how to explain it. He doesn’t look any different than he normally does. He doesn’t speak any different than he normally does. But there is an air around him that feels almost melancholic, and though most of your other friends treat him the same as always, you do catch Sam and Steve looking at him a few more times than normal, which confirms your suspicions. You just don’t know what to do about it. Sam and Steve are both closer to him than you are. Surely they can fix whatever is wrong, and you should just butt out. …Right?

The first flower is a fluke.

You find it by the curb of the sidewalk. Dropped in a rush, a few of the rose’s petals have been pulled off by whatever event cast it aside in the first place, but it is still overall lush and gorgeous. You pick it up– carefully, because curiously there are a couple of thorns– and dust it off. You carry on to the park where you’re going to meet up with Bucky.

And there he is, looking almost lost as he casts his gaze out to some unknown point. It’s pointless to follow– you get the feeling that, whatever he’s looking for, isn’t even here. And to further cement your worry, he doesn’t even notice you until you’re almost within arm’s reach. He leans back to cover the small flinch, and he smiles at you, in a way that if you were only able to see his eyes you wouldn’t even be able to tell. “You made it,” he says gently.

His focus moves down to your hand and his expression takes on a tinge of curious wonder. It’s not out of place or character– Bucky has a lot of little plants he tends to. Some herbs, a little vegetable seed he’s experimenting with, some–…flowers…

“Whatcha got there?” he asks and tilts his head to one side.

If it didn’t have the thorns, you’d be tempted to put it behind his ear. It would look beautiful– more beautiful. Because it’s him, and he’s the most beautiful person you’ve ever known, inside and out. But you can’t say that. You can’t risk not having him around.

You lift the flower towards him and say, “It’s for you.”

His eyes light up, but he looks between you and the flower a few times. “How come?”

“Just because,” you say firmly, and hold it higher. It feels right, and it feels even more right when he takes it and his face relaxes, showing some of the tired lines of the age that doesn’t yet show, but there’s a small genuine smile that bends the edges of his eyes, and makes your heart bloom into a flower all its own.

~

The next time you meet up, you’re more prepared. Buying a whole bouquet seemed…silly? Too much? But you got what you could find and so most of the flowers are stashed at your apartment, looking pretty in a cup, and you have a select few in hand, tied with a little ribbon you had lying around. The price tag hurt so bad it almost feels insulting these flowers don’t actually have any thorns, but, stupid expensive idea or not, you want to see how this goes.

Bucky is sitting on a ledge outside the museum, shaking his leg absently, but when he senses you nearby, he stops, sits taller, and turns. His eyes go immediately to the flowers and he smiles, but quashes it down almost immediately again.

“Seriously,” he says as you approach and hand them over. His eyes squint at you with some suspicion. “What’s the occasion?”

“Flowers are pretty,” you say without thinking. “And soft. And nice.”

“So why give them to me?” he huffs, derision shading his words as he casts his gaze down again.

You put the flowers in front of him, insistent enough that he finally takes them. “Because they’re pretty, and soft, and nice, and you like them,” you say. And I like you, you think but do not say. And when he lifts them to his face, getting lost in a thought, the soft petals graze his skin, and briefly touch the corner of his lips, and it’s so beautiful you think this is all very, very worth whatever price tag comes with it.

~

But you do find a florist that sells flowers by the stem. You actually find more than one, because, after a few times of coming in, the comments they made were…not mean, no, certainly not, but pointed. And you just can’t deal with that right now. Because Bucky is such a good friend, and he has enough to deal with without also worrying how you’d take his rejection– or, worse, that you’re just another person to want something from him. He’s had so much stress, and pain, and it just doesn’t do to imagine you contributing to more of that. Besides– flowers are, in fact, nice, and pretty, and soft, and fully capable of being utterly platonic.

Even if the way Bucky smiles every time he receives one (or two, or five,) makes your stomach do a flip.

“You know, bringing a fella flowers when you’re out to dinner with him is gonna give people some ideas,” he says, a smirk playing at his mouth as he flips the menu over.

“Not when they see the person giving you the flowers,” you say, trying to match his teasing tone. But as you go for your menu, he catches your hand. You stop and look at him. He stares at you for a few moments that almost make you squirm, but then he lets go, his hand sliding slowly, (so wonderfully slowly), away from yours.

“Then they’re idiots,” he says decisively, as if daring anyone to actually say that to his face. He even scowls a bit and looks around. Before you can apologize for your bad joke, he adds, “No one talks to my bestie like that,” and goes back to his menu.

It surprises a laugh out of you, and he’s smiling again. “We might need to cut down on your hangout time with Peter,” you say, and pick up your menu for real this time. You can still feel the ghost of his hand on yours, and you savor the memory of it. He doesn’t…touch, like that. It was nice.

“MJ,” Bucky says. He glances at you a few times and pulls some of his hair behind his ear. “She helped me cut my hair.”

“She did a great job,” you say earnestly. It’s not super short, still falling down enough he could ostensibly put it in a tiny ponytail, but it had been getting quite long, before. While it had looked nice, supplying one with many fantasies of running fingers through the full length, or braiding, or– …well, ultimately, you know the maintenance of it had annoyed him, and that’s what really matters.

“I want it shorter, but this was as much as I could manage,” he admits. He brightens. “Those are good kids.”

He tells you about his day, and how the three-man “Spidey-crew” somehow made an absolute wreck of one of Tony’s training rooms despite only one of them actually being enhanced, and as much as you’re riveted by the story, you can’t help but notice how Bucky’s right hand keeps drifting over to pet the flower petals throughout the night.

~

“Hey.”

You look up– and squint at Steve. You don’t know exactly what that look on his face is, but you know trouble when you see it. Not bad trouble, like someone’s dying, but that Captain “The Biggest Little Shit In The World” America is going to make trouble. “Hey,” you say cautiously. You look around. You’re supposed to be meeting someone else today. “Is Bucky okay?”

“He’s doing great,” Steve says, and there it is– that grin that means you are going to regret whatever comes out of his mouth next– about zero point three seconds before he adds, “He seems to be collecting enough flowers to be able to open his own shop though. Don’t suppose you know anything about that?”

“Mm, no,” you say, because Steve Rogers is not the only little shit in the area. God, at this point Bucky practically collects them.

“Interesting,” Steve says, with a little too much…well, interest.

You bristle. “What?”

“Nothing,” Steve says, feigning innocence. “I just said it’s interesting.”

“And what would your boyfriend think about that?” you ask. You then try not to actually think about what Sam would have to say about it.

Of course, you don’t get away that easy. “He’s also wondering when you’re going to make an honest man out of Bucky,” Steve says, dropping the pretense.

You scowl. “He already is an honest man.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Steve says, gently, but…it’s true. He’s the one who took on the world for him. And won. “Hey,” he says and sits next to you. “It’s fine, just…you know Buck’s going to wonder about all this.”

You swallow. “He won’t bring it up,” you say. You hope. “Even if he kn–… He wouldn’t want to hurt my feelings.” He’s so good. He’s too good.

“He might also not bring it up because he’s as afraid of rejection as you are.” Steve squeezes your shoulder, then stands. “But from here on, it’s not up to me– it’s up to the two of you.” You don’t even get a chance to fully absorb all that before he adds, “That said, you should be more concerned about what my girlfriend thinks about all this.”

You immediately feel your blood go cold.

~

The knife of Natasha hangs silently over your head. Silently, because she made sure to stop by just to stare at you a little too intensely and a little too long. At this point, you’re not sure who’s actually more protective of Bucky– Steve or Natasha. You’re pretty sure the latter is the scarier of the two, though. Only pretty sure though, because Steve probably only backed off because he knew she was going to step in.

You sigh, and watch the rain fall outside your window. Maybe you never should have– but, no, you can’t bring yourself to regret it. It made Bucky happy. It makes Bucky happy. Overprotective friends or not, it’s worth it.

…And if you do get dead and buried, you’ve probably bought enough flowers for Bucky that he won’t even have to buy any arrangements.

There’s a knock at your door and you scramble up, but at the quiet, familiar, “It’s me,” you relax again. And then you scramble to go hit the light. Bucky can’t see you yet so he doesn’t know you’ve been brooding in the dark, but it suddenly feels a lot sillier, all told. Then you answer the door, and he’s smiling, and oh boy, you really are in trouble, aren’t you.

“I got something for you,” he says, and unzips his jacket, bringing out…

…A small bundle of flowers.

You freeze. You should have expected this– Bucky is the kind of guy to get and then give in equal (or more) measure, but there’s something about Bucky, with his nice new haircut, showing up at your door, giving you flowers, that makes your heart ache. But the longer you stand there, the more his smile starts to wilt, until he finally says your name in such an uncertain tone that you snap out of it.

“Thank you. They’re beautiful,” you say, and take them to go get a tall cup or something to put them in.

He breathes a sigh of relief and starts pulling off his jacket and shoes. “Thank God; I wasn’t sure what kind of flowers you like, but I put those together and they just felt right, you know?”

You nod agreeably, even though you think if Bucky showed up with them half-rotted and smushed with most of their petals gone, you’d still have been equally choked up. “You didn’t have to do that,” you say gently and turn to face him, and oh, he is suddenly very, very close.

“I wanted to,” he says, and doesn’t back down. His eyes flick from place to place, though, and he swallows. “Just…because. That’s good enough, right?”

“It is,” you agree, because it is, and you stand by that. But the way Bucky is looking at you is searching, and you feel your chest clench. What is he looking for. Did Steve snitch. Natasha wouldn’t (she loves leverage a little too much for anyone’s full good) but if you have to kill Captain America for being a bitch you will–

“What if it wasn’t just because,” he blurts out. And there’s no other way to describe it; the words fall right out of his mouth like they didn’t even mean to. But you both freeze, and Bucky stands tall, and he doesn’t take them back. He looks right at you and says, “What if…what if they meant something?”

It’s so quiet. Rain pats against glass in waves, but even it is softer now, and you swallow. “What would…they mean?”

And, because there is no hiding the hope in your voice, Bucky relaxes, and once again becomes the kind of person who would look at an angry chihuahua of a man and think befriending him was a good idea. “Well,” he drawls, leaning into you more, but your lower back is against the counter and he rests his hands on it, on either side of you. “It’s not your birthday…it’s not a holiday…”

“And what kind of holiday would you get me flowers for?” you ask, deadpan, because he– he wouldn’t actually make fun of you for this. He’s not that cruel. So this has to be going one place, and you think you know what it is.

Right?

“Valentine’s Day?” he suggests. But his eyes are intense, and for a few moments neither of you say anything, but his mouth is right there, and yours opens just a bit in a Pavlovian response you absolutely should not have but that you desperately want a reason to develop.

“Seems like that might be kind of a statement,” you say softly. You swallow again. “If you. Did that.”

“Yeah?” he asks and leans in, somehow, impossibly closer.  “Maybe I just wanted you to have something nice. And soft.”

His lips are almost touching yours, so close, so close. “Maybe I’d like something else,” you say, more breath than words, and then there he is, there he is closing the distance at last and his lips are on yours and your lips are on his and his chest presses hard against yours and the counter is digging into your back. But his arms wrap around you, and no flower petal can hold a candle to his lips, you think deliriously, wrapping your arms so tight around him that if you had enhanced strength, you think you’d crush him. His lips are mostly soft, but you can feel the little ridges, a hint of a split that must have happened in training this morning, and his tongue and yours. When you finally separate, it’s slow, and while you both take a moment to breathe, you try to wrap your head around…all of this.

“Man,” you murmur. “If I knew all it would take is some flowers…”

Bucky lets out a hoarse laugh, and passes the tips of his fingers gently across your cheek. “What can I say?” He smiles, and it makes his eyes crinkle. “I’m a cheap date.”

You smile too, and say, “We’ll see about that.”

~

When you go to meet with Bucky for your first official date, you bring flowers– and so does he. He hands you your little bindle, but you go about sticking your selection right in his coat breast pocket– and find something familiar about the new broach he has. It’s a little pin containing three rolled dried rose petals in resin, it looks like.

“Is that…” you ask, and he nods.

“I wanted to keep it,” he says, and adjusts the fresh flowers in his pocket. You didn’t plan it like this, but they look so perfectly at home, and when he smiles at you it nearly makes your knees weak. “You look amazing,” he says, gently, and holds out his hand. “Shall we?”

In one hand you hold firm stems and soft petals. Your other hand, you slide into his– against skin calloused and creased and warm and, despite all of its supposed imperfections, better than any flower could ever hope to be. You grip tight, and say, “We shall.”

~

[ikkyfics]

hi!!! im sorry i dont request often, but ive been so in love with ur fics... my atj obsession is coming back full force and you write dave soooo well <33

maybe a fic where reader isn't exactly popular (pretty and maybe has a few close friends) and has a big crush on dave? like she can't understand how he's 'invisible to girls', cause she stares at him in whatever classes they both have, and she stands at her locker for forever just staring longingly at him and he never notices. maybe her best friend tries to convince her to talk to him eventually ..

was thinking it could be sfw and maybe fluffy (maybe a little angsty if you want) idk!!! thank you for considering it if you do, and im excited for what other work you have lined up ❤️

𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧

Dave Lizewski x f!reader

Summary: in which Dave doesn't notice any of your signals

Warnings: fluff, pre relationship, idiots in love, no use of y/n

A/N: SO SO SO SORRY, I know it's been forever since you sent this request, but I only just got around to doing something. I kind of lost count of how many times I started and deleted this fic. If you read this, I appreciate you not giving up on me, and thank you so much for the message, it was very very kind and I can only thank you for those sweet words. I hope you can enjoy this, darling (and I'm sorry if I deviated a little from the request)

You always looked at him.

Sometimes subtly, when he walked down the school hallway with that casual stride, balancing his backpack on one shoulder, his headphones hanging around his neck, his brown curls falling slightly over his forehead. Other times, you didn’t even try to hide it, like when he laughed at something stupid during lunch and his blue eyes sparkled behind his glasses, or when you saw him from afar during gym class, not understanding how no one else noticed how good he looked in that blue shirt.

It was a mystery to you. How was it possible that no girl at school looked at Dave Lizewski? How was it possible that no one saw what you saw?

"You should just tell him you like him and get it over with," your friend casually remarked, while you checked your phone for the thousandth time, waiting for Dave’s reply.

You pretended not to hear, but the heat on your face gave you away.

That was it. You liked him. More than you should like a friend you only exchanged messages with and talked to when you bumped into each other in the hallways. More than you should like someone who, probably, didn’t see any of it.

So, when Dave suggested you two go to the movies together to watch a Batman re-release, you tried not to overthink it.

But that became impossible when you found yourself standing in front of the mirror for too long, adjusting your top, letting your hair down and tying it up three times before deciding which way looked the least intentional. Your hands were a little sweaty, and you rolled your eyes at yourself when you realized you had chosen that specific perfume, the one that always made someone comment on how good you smelled.

It was just Dave.

Just Dave, who got adorably awkward when you accidentally complimented him. Just Dave, who laughed at your bad jokes and sent stupid memes in the middle of the night. Just Dave, who—when he met you in front of the theater—stopped mid-sentence as he looked at you, blinked a few times, and without even trying to hide it, gave you that quick once-over from head to toe before clearing his throat and adjusting his glasses.

"You look… uh, different today."

You raised an eyebrow, holding back a smile. "Different how?"

Dave opened and closed his mouth once, clearly trying to choose his words. His curls fell slightly over his forehead as he tilted his head to the side, and he made that unconscious motion of pushing his glasses up his nose.

"Pretty."

It was a bit hesitant, but genuine enough to make the heat rise to your cheeks.

"I’m always pretty," you joked, trying to keep your composure.

Dave smiled that awkward smile, scratching the back of his neck. "Yeah… I know."

And then, as if realizing he was giving too much away, he pointed toward the theater doors. "We should go in."

He was right. But as you passed through the ticket booth and grabbed your tickets, you could still feel his gaze on you from time to time.

The theater was packed, and the tight seats meant you were close enough that when he moved, his knee brushed against yours.

The room darkened, and soon the movie started. You tried to focus on the screen, but it wasn’t easy when every little movement of his caught your attention. The way he leaned over to grab more popcorn and, in the process, his fingers brushed against yours, his warm skin against yours in a fleeting touch that left an uncomfortable awareness in its wake. As if, somehow, that brief contact was more significant than it should have been.

He didn’t seem to notice. He just stayed there, leaning on the armrest, relaxed, his eyes lit up by the glow of the screen. Every now and then, he’d bite his lower lip without realizing it, an unconscious habit of concentration that made something twist in your stomach. His jaw looked more defined like that, and you felt an annoying urge to look longer than you should.

And then he leaned in.

You felt it before you saw it. The movement beside you, the sudden warmth of his presence getting closer, and then his warm breath grazing your skin as he whispered:

"Did you know Christian Bale almost lost the role because they thought he was too skinny?"

It sent an immediate shiver down your spine.

Maybe it was the fact that his voice came out lower than necessary, raspy on purpose or by accident. Or maybe it was because he was close, close in a way that didn’t seem normal for two friends watching a movie. His face was almost touching yours, and your mind made a stupid connection, the kind that should’ve been ignored: if you turned your head just a little, if you leaned an inch in the wrong direction, his lips would touch yours.

You swallowed hard.

"Is that true?" Your voice came out lower than you intended, and he chuckled softly, as if he noticed.

"He gained like 100 pounds of muscle in six months."

"Is that even possible?" You forced yourself to keep your eyes on the screen, as if ignoring the proximity would be enough to not feel every detail of it.

"If you’re Batman, it is."

The reply came in an almost playful whisper, and then he pulled back as if nothing had happened, leaning back into his seat.

Unlike you, who stayed there, absorbing the fact that your heart was beating way too fast for something that was supposedly nothing.

But it wasn’t just that.

His fingers were still close to yours on the armrest between the seats, so close that if either of you moved, the touches would repeat. You noticed when he grabbed more popcorn and his knuckles brushed lightly against your skin. Maybe you were imagining things, but he didn’t seem in such a hurry to move his hand away this time.

The movie went on, and by this point, you couldn’t tell if you were following the story or just the small details about him. The way he shifted in his seat, the subtle movement of his chest rising and falling with his breath, the warmth radiating from him so close to you.

His voice came low, breaking the comfortable silence between you.

"Did your soda run out?"

You blinked, needing a second to process the question, before realizing that yes, the cup of soda next to you was empty.

"Yeah."

"Then have some of mine. You must be thirsty after all that popcorn."

It wasn’t a big deal. It shouldn’t have been. But when he tilted the cup toward you, you hesitated for a moment. Your eyes met his, and Dave smiled slightly, waiting for you to take the cup.

So you took it.

You brought the straw to your mouth and drank, feeling the cold soda running down your throat. But that wasn’t all you felt. Dave was watching. Not just casually. He didn’t look away the next second, didn’t glance at the screen as if nothing had happened. He was watching.

When you lowered the cup and handed it back to him, your fingers touched for a moment. Warm, slightly sticky from the popcorn salt, but still soft. Dave blinked a few times, as if processing something, and then drank from the same straw without a second thought.

The rest of the movie went on like that. Little moments that made it seem like you were something more. You whispered that you wanted to try the chocolate he bought, and he offered it, holding the candy near your mouth almost casually. Later, he made a comment about some scene, and you replied softly, leaning your face closer to his than necessary. It was all a silent game that neither of you seemed willing to admit you were playing.

But then the movie ended.

You needed to go to the bathroom, and Dave murmured that he’d wait outside. You nodded, adjusted your jacket, and walked away, trying to ignore the silly feeling that you were leaving something behind.

It was when you came back that you felt something strange.

There he was, standing near the theater exit, and right in front of him was a girl. You didn’t know her, but you recognized that smile. A sugary smile, a deliberate lean of her body toward him. She laughed softly, playing with her hair, saying something that made Dave furrow his brows, confused. And then you understood.

She was flirting with him.

And he had no idea.

Your body froze mid-step. It was stupid, but for a moment, you felt a strange weight in your chest. What would happen if, suddenly, someone started seeing in him what you saw? If someone looked at him and saw exactly what you saw? If someone fell for Dave Lizewski the way you were falling for him?

Your stomach churned.

That’s when he looked at you.

His face lit up in the same second, and he smiled—that genuine, easy smile he didn’t give to the girl in front of him. He muttered something quickly to her, nothing rude, just a hurried goodbye, and then started walking toward you.

And you, who still felt the heaviness in your chest, didn’t know what to do when he stopped beside you and asked, as if nothing had happened:

"Let's go?”

You could still feel the warmth of the movie theater on your skin, the memory of your fingers brushing against the popcorn, the brief touch of your hands, the low sound of his voice, raspy and almost lazy, echoing in your ear. It was absurd how every detail seemed amplified now, as if the simple fact of being alone on this walk made everything feel more real.

Dave adjusted the collar of his jacket, shoving his hands into his pockets, and took two quick steps to align himself beside you. He always did that—making sure you walked together, close, your shoulders almost touching with every movement. He glanced at you, looking like he wanted to say something, but then changed his mind and just let out a short sigh.

You bit your lip. You couldn’t get the image of the girl at the theater out of your mind. Or the way she looked at him, or the casual way Dave stood there, listening, completely unaware.

"She was pretty."

The words came out suddenly, and Dave turned his head toward you, slightly confused. "What?"

"The girl at the theater." You shrugged, kicking a small pebble on the path. "She was pretty."

He was silent for a moment, as if trying to figure out where you were going with this. Then he shrugged. "Yeah."

It was a small, indifferent sound. But for some reason, it annoyed you.

You huffed, crossing your arms, and looked at him. "And she was flirting with you."

Dave furrowed his brows, laughing lightly, as if that were absurd. "No, she wasn’t."

"Yes, she was."

"No, she wasn’t."

You stopped abruptly on the sidewalk, forcing him to stop too, his eyes widening slightly at your sudden hesitation. The cold wind passed between you, but all you felt was the heat rising to your face.

"You’re too much of an idiot to notice."

His smile faltered a little, and Dave opened his mouth, as if to retort, but couldn’t find the words.

"I’m not an idiot." He sounded slightly offended, furrowing his brows in a way that only made him seem more naive.

"Yes, you are."

"No, I’m not."

"Then tell me," you challenged, tilting your head to the side, crossing your arms as you stared at him. "If a girl were flirting with you, would you notice?"

Dave let out a nasal laugh, shaking his head. "Obviously."

"No, you wouldn’t."

"I would."

"You wouldn’t."

He rolled his eyes, sighing in an exaggerated way. "Okay, then. How are you so sure about that?"

And that’s when it happened.

You didn’t think much. You just looked at him, at his messy curls and blue eyes behind his glasses, at the face you knew so well and at the answer that had been begging to come out for a long time.

"Because I’ve been giving you every possible sign, and you haven’t noticed."

The silence that followed your confession wasn’t empty.

It was heavy, loaded with something indescribable, something that tightened your chest and made the air feel denser around you.

Dave stood in front of you, his face partially lit by the nearest streetlight, his hair casting shadows over his eyes. But even with the poor lighting, you could see it.

The shock.

His lips parted, as if he were about to say something, but nothing came out. His gaze fixed on yours, unblinking, and the expression that took over his face was a mix of disbelief and something deeper—something you couldn’t name.

You swallowed hard, feeling your heart hammering against your ribcage, the pulse vibrating in every extremity of your body. Your hands were cold, but the heat rising to your face was almost unbearable.

You had said it.

You had said it out loud.

And now there was no turning back.

Nervousness washed over you like a wave, sweeping away any trace of courage that remained. Your chest rose and fell in an uneven rhythm, and your fingers moved slightly, restless, before you finally let out the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

"I like you, Dave."

Your voice came out shakier than you wanted, but it was too late to fix it.

Dave blinked, as if the words had just hit him with full force.

"I’ve liked you for a while. A long time." You forced a short laugh, looking at the ground for a second before meeting his eyes again. "But you never noticed."

He wet his lips, looking away, at anything that wasn’t you, as if he were trying to organize his thoughts.

His mouth opened and closed again, without a single word coming out.

"Dave," you called, and he finally looked at you again.

His eyes were intense now, as if they were trying to absorb every detail of you, every tiny movement.

You felt the hesitation in the air.

The weight of what had just happened.

But then, he did something unexpected.

With an almost hesitant movement, Dave slowly raised his hand, as if testing his own limits, as if he still couldn’t believe he could touch you. His fingers brushed against the sleeve of your jacket before finally holding your forearm, the touch light, uncertain, but real.

"I’m an idiot."

His voice came out low, almost a whisper, and the way he said it made your chest tighten in a strange way.

You opened your mouth to say something, but he continued:

"I—" Dave took a deep breath, his eyes locking onto yours again, so close now that you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. "I didn’t notice because..." He swallowed hard, his fingers tightening slightly on your arm. "Because I never thought it was possible."

Your heart stopped for a second.

His eyes were locked on yours, and there was something so genuine there, something so true, that you felt your throat close up.

"I never thought you could like me."

The confession was soft, said with a half-smile that didn’t match the uncertainty shining in his eyes.

And in that moment, you realized.

You realized he wasn’t hesitating because he didn’t feel the same.

He was hesitating because he had always felt it.

Because he had always wanted it, but never thought he was allowed to want it.

You felt your breathing quicken, and the distance between you seemed smaller now, your bodies leaning in an almost imperceptible way, as if drawn to each other.

Dave blinked a few times, as if he were still trying to understand the reality of the situation. As if he were trying to memorize this moment, to store it somewhere safe inside himself.

And then, he laughed.

Soft, almost disbelieving.

"Shit." He ran a hand through his hair, messing it up even more, and shook his head. "I really am an idiot."

You let out a weak laugh, the nervousness still pulsing inside you, but now mixed with something else.

Something warm.

Something good.

Dave lowered his head for a moment, biting his lip before looking at you again, and then he did it again—that subtle movement of leaning closer. Not enough to break the last barrier between you, but enough for you to feel his warmth in the air, for every cell in your body to be aware of his presence.

"Tell me it’s not too late for me to notice now."

His tone was soft, but his eyes were intense, blue and fixed on you as if nothing else in the world existed.

And the answer came before you could even think.

"Of course it’s not."

[hazelrin]

YOU GOT ME LOOKING FOR ATTENTION ★ K.HR

Synopsis; your girlfriend normally had a cold and intimidating personality towards most people, but for you she had an absolute soft spot that no one had ever witnessed. Today was one of those rare days where she was clingy and desperately begging for you attention

Warning; fluff, established relationship, attention seeking, Haerin is so in love with YN

Word count; 1.3k

The classroom buzzed with the energy of students preparing for the upcoming project deadline, each absorbed in their discussions, a symphony of chatter and pencil scratching filling the air. You, however, found yourself deep in conversation with your classmate about the nuances and details that could make your project exceptional. Questions flew between you like sparks, igniting your enthusiasm and determination to ace the assignment.

Beside you, Haerin sat with her usual air of cool detachment. Known for her cold demeanor towards others, both intimidating and aloof, she often preferred to observe from the sidelines rather than engage. To most people, she was an enigma—a girl with an impenetrable fortress encasing her heart. But for you? She had built a soft sanctuary. You were the exception to her steely exterior, the person who had broken through, even if most didn’t realize it. Today, however, something felt different, and the subtle tension in the air should have clued you in.

As the discussion with your classmate surged, there was a faint rustling sound beside you. You cast a fleeting glance, expecting to see Haerin simply adjusting her position, but instead, you were met with an unexpected sight. Her phone was propped up, a silly cat video playing its merry tune, its chubby feline antics harmlessly entertaining. You turned back to your conversation, your focus unwavering, blissfully unaware of Haerin's attempt to gain your attention amidst the schoolwork.

The seconds stretched into minutes, and you could feel someone’s gaze boring into the side of your head. It was a quiet intensity that began to gnaw at your concentration. Still, with the excitement of potential ideas rallying in your mind, you pressed on, oblivious to the melancholy creeping across Haerin’s features.

Her lips, usually firm with a confident smirk or a sarcastic quip, now formed a delicate pout. The expression was unfamiliar, an unusual sight on her otherwise intimidating countenance. You could see the hurt lingering behind her dark eyes as she attempted to pounce on your attention with increasing frustration. Yet, you remained unmindful of her subtle cues, lost in your dialogue, trading ideas with your classmate about project layouts and content structure.

Not to be deterred, Haerin crossed her arms defiantly, her stern demeanor an attempt at intimidation even if it was futile in the face of her desire to connect. She was being constructed in a difficult scene—a hard outer shell struggling against an overwhelming softness for you that no one except you had ever witnessed. As she glanced at her phone, the laughter of the cat seemed painfully out of place, an echo of the lightness she was trying—yet failing—to instill in the moment.

Finally, the laughter of your classmate snapped her attention back to you only to find your focus unwavering, your laugh loud and melodic. The sulking expression on Haerin’s face deepened, her heart sinking as she realized the gap between you was growing larger. She turned her attention back to her textbook, desperately attempting to drown out the laughter ringing around her. But as the milliseconds swept by and reality settled in, her resolve began to wane.

With a reluctant sigh, Haerin leaned closer, attempting to be a distraction. She held her phone closer to your face with a newfound fervor, the charming melody from the video getting louder as she practically positioned it in front of you. Still, your eyes glazed over the screen, lost in intricate discussions that ebbed and flowed around you.

Tired of being ignored, she gently kicked the leg of your chair, a mild yet playful nudge that she knew would gain you at least a sidelong glance. But instead of meeting her eyes, you chuckled softly and waved her off, shrugging your shoulders in absent-minded acknowledgment. This was the moment her facade cracked.

“Y/N,” she finally said, her voice low and laced with an undeniable edge of impatience.

The words cut through the classroom noise, pulling you out of your intense dialogue. Bewildered, you turned to her, finally noticing the way her brow was furrowed in a delicate frown, and how her normally roguish confidence waned even in your presence. Something about the expression tugged at your heart.

“Haerin?” you frowned, a twinge of concern threading through your voice. “What’s wrong?”

Her sulky pout deepened, her expression resembling that of a child. Her arm fell from across her chest and she turned to face you—finally breaking down her quiet wall of indifference. “Do you even care that I’m here?” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper yet heavy with vulnerability.

“Of course I care!” You blinked, realization dawning on you. How could you have missed the signs? Her attempt at attention was clear now. It wasn’t just about the project—it was about you two, about connection amidst the academic pressures. “Sorry, I was just—”

“Too busy with the project to notice your girlfriend is frowning at you?” she finished for you, though her words were laced with an affectionate playfulness. “I get it. It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine,” you insisted, your heart racing with affection and concern. You leaned closer, intrigued by the shift in her demeanor. “I didn’t realize you wanted my attention. I thought you…were fine.”

At that, a flicker of something softer ignited in Haerin’s gaze. “Well, clearly I can’t just wave a flag,” she said, rolling her eyes yet unable to suppress the ghost of a smile that broke through her dramatic frown. “If I could, the flag would say, ‘Hey, look at me! I promise I’m fun too!’”

Your heart melted at her playful attempt to lighten the mood, and you couldn’t help but chuckle softly. “You are fun,” you assured her, reaching over to take her hand. The moment your fingers entwined, warmth surged through you both. “You just have a terrible way of showing it sometimes.”

Haerin leaned into your side, the earlier neediness in her demeanor evolving to a relaxed comfort. She nudged her shoulder against yours, seeking that closeness she longed for. “Well, I thought a silly cat video would do the trick, but clearly it didn’t. I should have just spoiled your project talk with a mass of kisses instead.”

“Now that would have been distracting.” Your heart raced as you gently squeezed her hand. “But I’m sorry for ignoring you. Your talent for capturing attention deserves more than what I gave you.”

Haerin smiled at the compliment, the corners of her mouth lifting into that signature smirk you loved. “Darn right. Bringing the cuteness is my specialty,” she mused with a teasing lilt before breaking into a giggle.

Just then, the bell rang, signaling the end of class, and the cacophony of student chatter erupted around you yet again. But the air felt different now; it sparkled with affection and the shared warmth of understanding between you two. As you collected your belongings, Haerin’s fingers remained intertwined with yours, not willing to part even as you stood to join the flow of students filtering out.

“You know I’ve got a soft spot for you…” she murmured, her expression earnest as you stepped into the corridor, students bustling around you in varying states of excitement and chatter.

“I know,” you replied softly, glancing sideways at her with a dreamy smile. “And I promise never to let schoolwork overshadow you again.”

“Good,” she said, leaning into your side a bit more, her demeanor transforming into one of sweet vulnerability. “Because you’re mine, and I won’t share you with a textbook.”

Her possessiveness evoked laughter from you again, and as you navigated the vibrant chaos of your school hallway, you couldn’t help but feel immensely lucky to be the one who got to witness these moments with her—a girl who had opened up to you like a rare flower blooming amidst a thorny rosebush. “Then let’s make a deal,” you quipped, “more cat videos, and I promise even more ridiculous kisses.”

“Deal,” she replied, squeezing your hand with a playful intensity, her eyes shining as brightly as the sun filtering through the classroom windows. In that moment, you knew, no matter the storm of assignments or the weight of the world outside, this—having Haerin beside you—was everything you would ever need.

[gulpchulp]

my goodness some of y’all are exhausting when it comes to Gemma

People really wanting kids is very very common in a lot of circles. Probably less here on tumblr or reddit but amongst others just out in the world, stuff like fertility issues is a huge deal. A lot of people start to feel inadequate when they struggle with fertility although they really shouldn’t. But I think it makes people hurt because they feel like their body isn’t doing a thing that it should be able to do and feel like it is stopping them from reaching their goals.

Additionally, just because someone cares about their career (like Gemma) doesn’t automatically mean they don’t want kids. People can want both AND people can struggle with that. Especially women as they are often shoved into a box of ‘needing to choose one or the other’ (like i have seen some people on here say) when these two things can exist side by side. Wanting kids doesn’t ruin your career or mean that you have lost all ambition, it just means you want to be a parent.

And on top of that I really do not think at all that Gemma voluntarily left to do some random treatment retreat thing. I think that is a misinterpretation. Now maybe I am wrong and if I am sorry in advance but the way I see it is that Lumon took her. They faked her car accident the night she was going out, they had probably waited for a situation like that so they could take her (at night, alone). Yes her and Mark were having trouble but again this is very common amongst the general population. Relationships can have rough patches, you are just people and people are emotional and reactive (to different extents depending on the individual).

Honestly Mark and Gemma’s marriage stuff didn’t seem that unusual to me. I mean they weren’t in a great place but it was in a very normal way, a way that happens to a lot of people. That doesn’t mean that it is automatically great and that the way they were communicating with each other was amazing and is what should have to happen in a relationship but they were in a dark place. But I think that they were both stressed and tired of working towards a goal they presumably both wanted.

It was disappointing and stressful and when people are stressed they snap and they say or do things that they wouldn’t otherwise. Like Mark, who pulls away and gets snarky when confronted with pain or grief, he runs away not because he doesn’t care but because he does, too much. So I don’t think him and Gemma stopped loving each other and that she would run away to Lumon because they were having trouble. (I honestly don’t even think it would have ended in divorce or anything though that happens a lot too).

I get that pregnancy and birth plot lines are not for everyone, but I think it is narrow minded to write it off as a cop out or bad writing. Pregnancy plots and discussion of children and family’s have always been in the show, they just weren’t the main focus. And this was just one part of one episode. Gemma exists as a person outside of wanting a child, half the time we see her she is not worried about that at all, she is too busy being tortured. And yet many of you have latched on.

I think that sometimes in people’s discomfort with traditional societal norms (for a lack of a better term) they end up leaning into the toxic side of them. You allow Gemma’s desire to be a mother to overshadow all other things occurring and ridicule the show for including it. You blame her for her own torture and you think that if a couple ever struggles they do not love each other. You blame Gemma for everything happening in the marriage as if it wasn’t Mark buying the crib and later taking it apart.

Anyway yeah imma need people to start thinking critically in regard to Gemma cause these takes are some of the worst I have seen.

[kathaelipwse]

"You Can’t Hide From Us" (Part 2)

Pairing: Jackson x GN!Reader x BamBam

Genre: FWB! Sick Comfort

Synopsis: After recovering from the illness, you find yourself caught between Jackson and Bambam’s playful yet possessive jealousy. What starts as harmless teasing over who gets more of your attention quickly escalates into a heated battle of affection.

Requested: Yes

Word count: 2.0k

I felt like the other request could be added to the same fic, as a continuation, as it was a same dynamic :)) Enjoyyy!!

It started with something so small.

A casual afternoon, the three of you sprawled out in your apartment, lazily enjoying each other’s company after a long week. The sick spell that had previously knocked you down was long gone, leaving behind only warmth and the familiar comfort of Jackson and Bambam hovering around you like overly affectionate guard dogs. But today, something was… different.

It began when Jackson pulled you into his lap, arms winding around your waist as he nuzzled into your neck. "You spent all morning with Bambam," he murmured against your skin, voice carrying the slightest edge of accusation. "You didn’t even cuddle me once."

Bambam, lounging on the other side of the couch, let out an exaggerated scoff. "Oh, please. You had them all last night! They fell asleep on your chest!" He threw a pillow at Jackson’s head. "Quit being so greedy."

Jackson caught the pillow effortlessly, but his grip around you tightened possessively. "Greedy? I’m just making up for lost time. They’re mine too, you know."

The air between them shifted—just a little. Playful, but thick with something more, something that made your breath catch as you felt Jackson’s fingers press into your hip. Bambam’s eyes darkened as he leaned forward, draping an arm over the back of the couch, tilting his head at you.

"Yeah? Well, if they’re yours, then what does that make them to me?" Bambam’s voice was deceptively sweet, but the sharp glint in his gaze made your stomach twist. "Because I don’t remember agreeing to share."

Jackson’s grip flexed, his jaw tightening. "You don’t get to play the jealous card when you hog them whenever I’m not looking."

"Hog them?" Bambam laughed, but it lacked his usual lightness. "Don’t be mad just because they like spending time with me more."

Oh. Oh.

There it was—the shift from playful to something deeper, something that sent a shiver down your spine. The tension between them was palpable now, both men staring each other down while you sat in the middle, helplessly caught in their battle of possessiveness.

You sighed, pressing a hand to your forehead. "Guys, seriously?"

Neither of them acknowledged you, their gazes locked as Jackson scoffed. "Right. That’s why they’re sitting in my lap right now."

Bambam smirked. "Oh, that just means they’re comfortable. Doesn’t mean they’d pick you over me."

You groaned. "I am literally right here."

"No, no, let’s settle this," Jackson said, voice lower now, his fingers playing idly with the hem of your shirt. "If you had to choose—"

"Don’t even finish that sentence, Jackson Wang."

He had the audacity to pout, but before he could argue, Bambam suddenly stood up, clapping his hands. "Fine. If they won’t pick, we’ll just have to prove who deserves their attention more."

Your stomach dropped. "I don’t like where this is going."

Bambam ignored you, already grabbing his keys. "Give me twenty minutes."

Jackson narrowed his eyes. "What the hell are you up to?"

"Oh, you’ll see."

And with that, he was gone.

You stared after him, then turned back to Jackson, who still had his arms wrapped securely around you. "Should I be worried?"

Jackson hummed, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. "Nah. Whatever he’s planning, I’ll just do it better."

You sighed. "You two are ridiculous."

"You love it."

You wanted to argue, but his lips brushed against your skin again, and, well… maybe you did love it. Just a little.

---

Twenty minutes later, Bambam returned—triumphant, grinning, holding a beautifully wrapped box of your favorite chocolates. "For you, baby," he cooed, pressing the box into your hands with a wink. "Because I actually pay attention to what you like."

Jackson immediately scoffed, standing up with you still in his arms before setting you on your feet. "That’s cute. Really. But—" He grabbed something from behind the counter, turning back with a bouquet of your favorite flowers. "—I think they deserve something a little more romantic."

Your mouth fell open as you looked between them, each holding out their offerings, smugly challenging each other through you.

"You’ve got to be kidding me."

Bambam’s smirk widened. "Go on, baby. Pick."

Jackson tilted his head. "Yeah. Who do you think deserves your love more?"

Oh, they were really pushing it now.

You took a deep breath, slowly setting both the chocolates and the flowers down on the counter before turning to glare at them. "Alright, that’s enough. Both of you, sit down."

Jackson raised a brow. "Are we in trouble?"

"Yes."

Bambam pouted. "Damn."

Still, they listened, perching on the couch like scolded puppies while you crossed your arms. "I don’t know what kind of dumb competition this is, but let me make one thing clear: I love both of you. Equally. So whatever this little fight is? Stop it. Now."

Silence. Then—

"But I—"

"No."

"Well, technically—"

"Bambam, I swear to God—"

They both sighed, exchanging glances before Jackson finally gave in, rubbing the back of his neck. "Alright, alright. We get it."

Bambam leaned back, arms crossed. "Yeah, yeah. Love us both. No favorites. Blah blah."

You narrowed your eyes. "Do I need to kiss you both to make my point?"

Jackson perked up. "I mean—"

You groaned, shoving their shoulders as they laughed, finally letting the tension ease into something softer, something warm. And as they pulled you back onto the couch, cuddling you between them, you realized—

Maybe their jealousy wasn’t so bad after all.

---

[bunnylouisegrimes]

My Love For You (Patrick Bateman X Reader Attempt, Fem Reader, Contains (Noncon) Kidnapping, Stalking, Obsession, Patrick being creepy and yandere, etc.)

(A/N: So I randomly decided to attempt a reader insert fic with Patrick. I was inspired by the fantastic works of @makeyoumine69 and @creepybeanie

I'm personally not really a fan of writing the second person POV of "you" from a narrator's perspective. I much prefer to do it from a character's POV. It's been a while since I wrote from Pat's POV anyway, and it's always so fun. I missed doing it! Hope you enjoy it! Thanks for reading 💗)

Oh, hey, sleepyhead! Did you have a good nap?

You know, there's no point in trying to squirm. Those ropes? You're not going anywhere with them. You should know I've had plenty of experience typing women up. You're not the first woman I've bound to a bed. In fact, it was easier to do it here in my summer home rather than my apartment's bed. I really like the way the bedframe works up here.

Go ahead, try to scream. There's no point in it. Do you know how much land surrounds us and separates each house? Nobody will hear you.

Even if I did let you go, just for the fun of the hunt, you'd never find your way out. You'd probably get lost on the beach. Your only way out then would be the cold, vast ocean. Would you take that risk? Jumping into that ocean where a shark could eat you or where you'd freeze to death?

Yeah, I didn't think so.

Who am I? Oh, sweetheart, I'm your little shadow. I've been following you around for quite some time. I've watched your every move for the last... three months or so...

Yes, dear, it's been that long. I remember our first date... I caught you at that coffee shop. You were so quiet and awkward, so shy and cute... I fell for you the moment I saw you. You were so...different, different from the other women I've been around in my life. They were models, hardbodies, loud party girls, but you... you were the antithesis of all of that. And that's when I finally realized what I was missing in my life, what I needed.

I needed a real woman.

I needed someone who was genuine, kind, sweet... I needed someone who, while beneath me, felt just as lonely as I did. You've heard of trickle down economics? Of course you have, you pay attention to the headlines, as much as they worsen your anxiety. Well, I believe that loneliness is the one thing that seems to be trickling down through our society. It's lonely at the top, but it's just as lonely down there. That's why you and I need each other.

Because we can understand each other against all odds.

You're lonely down here, I'm lonely up there. We both know what it's like to be different, to be surrounded by fake people... it's miserable, isn't it? But you... you don't try fitting in like I have for so long. And for that... that is something I admire. Something I need... something I can escape within... You know you can escape within me, right?

Don't squirm so much when I sniff your hair... I can't help myself around you... darling, you are soooo intoxicating to me... God, I need you... You need me, I know it... don't deny it, don't fight it... I know how touch deprived you've been. You poor thing... I know you need this. You've needed this for so long. You barely even leave the house... It was apparant to me the moment I first saw you at that coffee shop.

I could tell it wasn't really your thing to get coffee somewhere. You much preferred to just make your own at home. But I've grown to understand that leaving the house isn't your strong suit. As I've followed your every move and hid in the shadows, completely undetected by you, I learned it doesn't help you have no friends, no lover... you're all by yourself...

You poor thing... you've been so lonely for so long... but that's okay. Let me be the one to touch you, bring you warmth, comfort, companionship... I know my love is twisted, but you will learn to accept it and embrace it. You will learn to accept my perverse love because you know you need it...

The few times you have left the house, I've spotted you at several places. I've watched you enter and leave the hospital you work at. That's the only time I've seen you truly leave consistently. I've seen you go to the grocery store and the convenience store every now and then. I've seen you go to your old school, where you could just wander and reflect upon your journey so far in life. That hiking trail, that park... I followed you to the mall, where you watched that scary movie... remember, the zombie one? Then you hit the arcade and then ran through a spending spree throughout your geeky stores to buy things to make you feel less lonely... remember the hot pretzel with spicy sauce you bought for yourself at the food court?

Of course I remember all these details. It's not often you leave the house to do fun things, love. It's easy to remember one day's worth of details. Especially since you spend most of your time inside your house playing video games and watching TV, sometimes sitting on your front or back porch. I watched you the whole time in spots you were completely oblivious to... the windows, the bushes... it was all so easy...

Remember that convention you contemplated wanting to go to? I wish you weren't so shy and scared to go. Maybe you would've met someone just as nerdy as you! Or... maybe... you would've met me! Maybe I would've finally presented myself to you, you wouldn't know at that point I had been watching for you some time... but then again, if we had gone, you would've probably known I didn't belong there, and that would've ruined everything...

Or how about the county fair? That theme park? You mentioned possibly taking time off to go there. But you just didn't see the point...why don't you? You deserve happiness, pumpkin... you deserve to be loved... and I will show you...

How did I find all this time to watch you? Ha! Because nobody cared to look for me! I could skip days of work, and nobody even knew. I would just be mistaken for someone else. It's not like I have true friends or close family that would go looking for me. I'm just as alone as you are, my love... don't you see how much we need each other?

Shhh...shhh... Don't cry... Don't cry, pumpkin. I know it's so hard to be so lonely... but I'm here now, and I will make it all better...

Can you leave? Why, of course, not! And why would you want to leave? So you can secluded yourself in your house again? My darling, what kind of life are you giving yourself? You see, I am giving you a much better life. You might not feel like it right now, but you will see. With how much money I have, I could provide anything to you. I could provide trips to other countries for just the two of us, I could buy you anything you want...I could provide you the world on a silver platter. You won't have to work, and neither will I! I'm quitting that Wall Street job. It wasn't good for me anyway, I see that now. I might just leave the city entirely. The empty nights of hookers and blow... all of the bloodshed I spilled... they'll be replaced with nights full of lovemaking with you... We'll be so happy together, princess...

All you have to do is behave... and be a good girl for me...

Do you like it when I kiss you? It feels so good to kiss you... mmmm, fuck, baby, you're driving me insane... I'm gonna give you the ride of your life tonight... you know, most women I've given the rides of their lives to always end up having those same lives taken away from them by the end of the night... I can't do that to you, my little angel... I could never hurt you... I would only kill to protect you... because the closest thing to love is what I feel for you... you are the first and only one I will ever feel this for...

This is why I've done all of this, my dear. I did all of this for you. And now, you are mine. Forever and ever and ever...

You will always be mine, dear. If you ever run from me, I will always catch you. If you ever hide from me, I always find you. And I will bring you right back here, safe and sound. To be mine for all of eternity. You and I are one now... and always will be...

So keep on squirming and crying and screaming all you want... you'll exaust yourself. You'll come to realize this is for the best. You'll come to realize how right I am. You'll come to accept me and my love for you. You'll realize that you love me too. Whether you like it or not, we are soulmates, and we will be bound together forever... You'll see that all of this is for you...

And all for my love of you...

(A/N: Thank you so much again for reading! Sorry if this isn't the best, idk if or when I'll write more reader insert stuff, it can be hard for me, as self insert stuff is what I'm most comfortable with. But I'd appreciate any feedback! 💗💗🫂🫂😘😘)

[flaakea-blog]

I recently rewatched X-Men: First Class, Days of Future Past, and I must admit—I’ve completely fallen for this version of Charles.

He is an exceptional character. Despite his ability to read minds and his deep awareness of both the world’s cruelty and its beauty, he still chooses to be a better person.

My only criticism of Charles in the first film is his failure to encourage Raven to accept herself as she is. However, I can somewhat understand his perspective—he is fully aware of human nature and how difficult it is for people to accept what is different. It is not easy to force yourself into a world that fears you when you have the option to blend in instead.

Beyond that, his struggles, strengths, and vulnerabilities make him a truly remarkable character—one we can learn so much from. He sees goodness even in the darkest of minds, such as Erik’s. However, Erik’s past does not justify his present actions in any way. Anyone who believes otherwise, I would argue, has a flawed perception of morality.

Take, for instance, the scene where Shaw attacks the CIA facility. In the past, I saw it as just another moment in the film. But this time, I couldn’t help but feel for the soldiers who lost their lives protecting those children. In the end, the mutants only listened to the one who betrayed them—which, to some extent, is understandable. Mutants may possess great power, but those soldiers sacrificed everything to ensure the children’s safety.

This is why I understand Charles. I see his perspective—it reflects reality.

Humans harm one another, and it is not merely a conflict between humans and mutants. Mutants, too, inflict harm upon each other and are often responsible for their own suffering, regardless of the reasons. The real issue lies within an individual’s essence, not their nature, identity, or background. Charles understands this. A person is defined by their choices. And because he recognizes the potential for goodness even in the worst individuals, taking the path of violence is not an option he can easily embrace.

In Days of Future Past, Charles is broken. And rightfully so—after enduring such immense loss, he has every reason to struggle emotionally. He experiences deep depression, yet for some reason, his role as a teacher and protector is seen as an obligation rather than a virtue.

He, too, has his own battles to fight.

But in his darkest moments, he truly believed he could never return to the man he once was—because no one understood him or supported him in the same way he supported others.

And so, in the end, the only one who could guide him back was himself—his future self—through words that were both profound and deeply moving.

That, in essence, is what I wanted to express about Charles.

[sugarushwriting]

ot7 vampire — human blood bank

s3 p3

“absolutely not.” you shook your head to the shirt ni-ki held up.

“why not?”

“you look like alvin the chipmunk.”

ni-ki rolled his eyes and kept glaring at the racks as you looked around. the biggest problem is you two had different taste.

the bigger problem? you both preferred to argue more than anything.

ni-ki groaned, “we’re literally just watching a movie. i need something comfortable so that i’m not adjusting every five seconds to where she thinks i have crabs.”

“fine.”

after a little more looking, a few more arguments, you both picked a few pieces out, including a few cargo pants, jeans (other than dark black), jerseys, sweaters, accessories, and new shoes (that weren’t boots).

after shopping for three hours, you took a break at a nearby bench. “i’m going to get pretzel bites, want any?”

you shook your head. ni-ki stared at you. “i don’t want any, i mean it!”

“yeah, sure.” he took the black card from you, getting up from his spot leaving you with the bags.

you were busy counting each bag making sure to have each one when a little kid, about two or three came up to you, red in the face, crying.

“mommy.”

“oh my goodness!” you immediately stood up and grabbed the little boy holding him close. looking around frantically to see if there was a woman or man looking around panicked trying to find their son.

the little boy kept crying “mommy,” quietly as he held tightly to you. you rubbed his back trying to soothe him, trying not to cry yourself.

ni-ki came back, panic in his own face. “did you kidnap a child?”

“are you serious right now? no. he found me! he’s lost you dummy! help me find his parent or parents.”

ni-ki nodded with a pretzel bite in his mouth, offering one to the kid who took it, still sniffling, but no longer crying. as you held the lost child, ni-ki carried his pretzels and the bags.

it only took about five minutes of wandering and into a store nearby, and by a fountain inside the store you saw a man and woman with panic stricken faces, and two cops standing nearby, one with a notepad out.

“i think i found your child!” you said as you came up, and both parents had big faces of relief, the mom nearly collapsing as she came to get her child holding him close, then hugging you.

“thank you, thank you so much!”

she pulled away, holding her son close, giving you a look of pure sweetness behind it. and for some reason, it made you tear up. you looked between her husband, her, and her son, then back to her and cried.

like full on balling. “i’m so sorry, i don’t know why,”

the woman only hugged you once again while holding her son.

the son said as best as he could, “it’s okay,” and patted your shoulder which only made you cry more and harder.

the two men cops, the husband, and ni-ki looked on from the sidelines. confused.

“what’s happening?” ni-ki asked.

“hormones.” one cop said.

“women things.” the other added.

“nah, just pure relief.” the husband shrugged.

the woman pulled away and looked at you soothingly. “it’s okay to have those emotions, all pregnant women,”

“oh ma’am, i can’t—,”

the woman cut you off, she pouted, “i’m so sorry honey. i can see how much you long for a child.” and she pulled you in for one last, tight hug. “please don’t ever give up honey. miracles happen. it happened to me.”

she gave you a reassuring smile then joined her husband who greeted her and the child happily.

you frowned. sadly, it wouldn’t happen to you. the men you were with, forever, could not reproduce.

ni-ki rejoined you shortly, and handed you a pretzel and again, you shook your head. “i’m tired, can we just go home?”

ni-ki looked at you with a raised eyebrow, knowing you would never pass a mini pretzel bite. “sure. i’ll drive.”

you didn’t argue and just followed him to the parking lot outside the shopping mall.

ni-ki had ideas from the feelings of the dreams you had. seeing you with the child and mother today might’ve reinforced what he thought. all he had to decide now was keep his mouth shut or tell jay and sunghoon?

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

“she wants a child?” chan asked, ni-ki nodded. “i can’t give her a child, um, if that’s what you’re asking. first off, jay might not go for that, second, she may not,”

“oh no, chan, not like that.” ni-ki cut him off before chan’s ears got any redder. chan cleared his throat.

“very well. what do you mean then?”

“is there any loophole, or possible way, a vampire and human can have a child together?” ni-ki asked.

chan thought about it for a while, then leaned forward in his office chair to his forearms on his desk in his office. “the only notable loophole i am aware of involved a warlock. was not a good outcome. baby died at birth.”

ni-ki’s shoulders dropped. “chan, it’s gotten so worse for her. the nightmares. i feel them. they’re taunting almost. and i know she hasn’t told any of the other guys. heck, she really hasn’t told me. i pretend to not know. today at the mall she was sobbing, into a strangers arms.”

“come again?” chan looked at ni-ki with great concern.

“she found the strangers child, the stranger, who was the mother, hugged her, and i guess it was a woman thing and i don’t know, just knew something was wrong?”

chan nodded in understanding. “got it. i just hate to say, there’s really nothing i know of. unless she becomes a vampire, which i know is impossible for her, or jay allows her to have kids with someone who is able to reproduce, which i know he would not go for, she may not be able to have her own biological children.”

a man came into chan’s office, whispered something to him, then walked out. chan stood up, “now if you excuse me, i have a feisty young woman waiting for me down in my dungeon.”

ni-ki smiled, “can i come with?”

“don’t you have a date to get ready for?”

“who told you?”

“jeongin.” chan smiled, then tilted his head for ni-ki to follow.

“who’s the fiesty girl?”

“my mate.” chan said nonchalantly.

ni-ki followed chan down the steps to the tunnels that led to the main dungeons and prison cells.

for the most part it was empty, as if you didn’t choose to follow the rules, most times you ended up dead.

ni-ki noticed a few here and there, each with their own guard. then, he locked eyes with familiar bright eyes, and a wicked smile.

“oh ni-ki, the one who i thought i could trust.”

ni-ki swallowed. “hi sunwoo.”

sunwoo clicked his tongue. his eyes looking sunken in with grey circles. “hope you’re doing better than me! you know that they starve vampires down here? barely give us anything, only enough so we don’t die. the blood they give is contaminated, but since it doesn’t kill us, it only makes us weaker!”

“i’m sorry sunwoo.”

“your ass should be in here with me. you killed an innocent woman too.” sunwoo spat. “how is that woman of yours? what did you all call her? your blood bank? she still looking fine as fuck? so sad i didn’t get enough time with her.”

ni-ki balled his fist, and chan immediately came to his side, at first letting ni-ki handle the conversation on his own.

“enough.” chan demanded. “any more disrespect and i’ll have them gag you.”

sunwoo looked at them with dead eyes and with a smirk and a taunt he said, “tell her i said, congratulations.”

next update — march 5

[sweetdispatch]

Utah Hockey Club - J. Marino

the trilogy of love | part II pairing: John Marino x fem!reader summary: You and John started a long distance relationship but was it a good decision? warning: mentions of sex, swearing, arguments

2024

You took a week off at work to help John with moving on to Salt Lake City. Both of you got déjà vu when you started to arrange the apartment but this time, you were leaving him. He was still bitter over the fact that you chose your work in New York over him but he understood this. At least, he acted this way. John couldn’t believe that his fiancée preferred to work than be with him and support him, especially when he was making enough money for both of you.

John knew that he’s in a lost position and that’s why he never told you what he really feels about this decision. He just swallowed it and tried his best to make it work long distance. On the other hand, you were delighted with this decision. You were grateful that you had such an understanding partner. When John drove you to the airport, it was an emotional time for them.

“Do you really have to leave?” John asked.

“Johnny… you know I have to” You sighed.

“I’m gonna miss you so much. We’ve been spending all the time together for the past four years and it just feels odd”

“It’s gonna be tough at the beginning but I believe we can make it work” You hugged him.

“I love you. Call me when you land, actually call me in every free minute” He kissed you. The kiss was full of love, sadness and desperation.

“I love you Johnny”

And you were gone. He was all alone in a new city and new state. Two thousand miles apart and two different time zones from the love of his life. First week apart, you’ve been doing great but later it got worse. You two missed each other so much. As you promised, you were calling John in every free time you had but it wasn’t enough for them.

John missed your presence. He missed coming back home to all the smells from the kitchen where you were cooking dinner for him. He missed the way you were always welcoming him when he was coming through the door. He missed the unorganised coffee table where all your papers were laying. He missed your cosmetics around the sink you were leaving them instead of cleaning. Most importantly, he missed you.

You missed his presence too. You missed his monologues about games and training when you were cooking. You missed waiting for him late at night when he was coming back from roadies. You missed seeing him trying to organise your papers, knowing that he doesn’t understand a thing. You missed having his suits in the wardrobe. Most importantly, you missed him.

The thing that you two also missed was sex. Both of you have crazy stamina and the fact that you’ve been far away from each other was killing you. John proposed phone sex but you weren't so sure about it.

“Why don’t you want to try?” He asked, frustrated.

“I just know I won’t be having any pleasure from it”

“How can you know it if we never tried it?”

“Because it’s not you. That’s why” You said honestly.

“So what? You're gonna wait until Christmas because of that?”

“Maybe I will”

“You are ridiculous” John couldn’t believe your words.

“Whatever, I’m going back to work. I love you” You were tired of this conversation and wanted to end it.

“Love you too” And you hung up but John felt that something was wrong with his fiancée. Not only because you didn’t want to try phone sex but because you were acting off lately. 

You checked your contract to see if you could quit the job but you were a manager of your team only for a year so for another year you were stuck in New York before you could quit it. After reading this, you fell apart. You never felt so bad. All the voices from your family came back to you saying that you’re gonna fail and you’re making a huge mistake moving out. You regretted leaving your hometown. At that moment, you regret that you met John.

John was living quietly in Salt Lake City. He was hanging out with his new teammates but he wished his fiancée was here with him. While he was visiting new restaurants and bars, he had flashbacks to moments from New Jersey where you were doing this with him. He was slowly getting used to the long distance but couldn’t push the thoughts that something was happening with you.

You’ve been together for four years. John knew you like the back of his hand. He wanted to bring this up but he knew you’re gonna make excuses and ignore his questions which would start the argument in between you two. He didn’t want to have a fight with you over the phone. He decided to wait for you to bring the topic.

It never happened. You knew that all of this was your fault and didn't want to hear John saying “I told you”. Instead, you decided to throw yourself into work. You were taking more tasks than you could handle. All to try to keep your feelings down about John and this relationship. You knew that’s not fair towards him but you couldn’t help it. Days went by and John was tired of waiting for you to tell him how you really felt. He had to do something.

“What’s happening with you lately? And don’t lie to me” He said firmly.

“Johnny, nothing is…” Before you could finish your sentence, he interrupted you.

“Fucking hell, stop lying. I don’t know who you want to trick but that’s not working on me. I can see that something is wrong so tell me. You know you can trust me”

“I hate myself for what I did” You said quietly.

“What?” John was surprised, shocked and hurt by your words.

“Every single day, I regret the decision of choosing the job over you. It’s not worth it. I can’t enjoy it anymore. I feel forced to be here and do the stupid numbers. I’m also hearing in my head the words from my family saying to me that I’m a failure and to make it worse, I feel like one right now. My head is spiraling. All I want is to be with you but I can’t for at least another year. That’s why I’m taking more and more tasks just to keep myself busy” You said with tears.

“Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?”

“I didn’t want to be a burden. I made this bed and now I have to lay in it”

“Baby, you could never be a burden. I want to help you. We are a team. We are together in this. Your problems are my problems and vice versa”

“You are too good for me, I don’t even deserve you”

“Now, you are talking nonsense. I’m the lucky one to have you. You are more than a man can imagine. Please stop crying” He pleaded.

John felt bad for you. He didn't expect you to take the long distance so hard. That’s why he decided to visit you. He had the weekend off and he wanted to spend it with you. He flew to New York and took a taxi to your apartment. John opened the door but didn't expect to see your place being such a mess.

Your clothes were laying on the floor. Kitchen was full of dishes to wash. Couch and coffee table were full of your work papers. There was no sign of you so he walked to the bedroom. What he saw broke his heart. You were crying into the pillow on the bed. He slowly made his way to you.

“Hi baby”

“Oh my gosh, you scared the shit out of me” You screamed.

“Sorry. It wasn’t my intention” He kissed your temple and laid next to you.

“What are you doing here?”

“I have a free weekend so I decided to visit you”

“Thank you”

“How about bath and dinner?” He suggested.

“Can we just lay in the bed and think about it later?” You asked. All you wanted was to feel him.

“Always” John kissed you.

This weekend opened your eyes. You realised that your insecurities were pointless. John loved you and made you believe that two of you can work long distance. This also had a huge flaw. You became confident and started going out with your work friends. Every weekend you were drunk in clubs all across New York. This is how you were spending your free time since you didn’t want to come back to an empty apartment. John hated your new side. He was scared that something might happen to you and he’s not there to pick you up and help. Also, he was thinking all the time that you might find a replacement in his place while you’re out.

All his worries were put aside when John started training with a new team. Soon after, he got injured. At first, this didn't look that bad, just a week break from training. But the week turned into two weeks and later into three weeks. He was heartbroken when he heard that he required an operation and will be out for a couple months. On top of that, you started to pissing him off. After his visit, you became ignorant towards him because you wanted to do as much work as you can during the week so you could get drunk on the weekend. Nevertheless, he called you to tell you about his problems.

“Hi baby, bad news”

“What happened?” You said while going to a meeting.

“I’ve got an injury and it required an operation. He said sadly.

“Oh… sorry to hear that”

“That’s it?” He was mad at your lack of interest.

“What do you expect me to say? You are injured and need an operation”

“Oh, fuck you. When you were insecure because of your own decision, I was there for you. Now, I need your support and you don’t give a fuck” John was fuming.

“I don’t have time, I’ll call you after the meeting and we can talk”

“Don’t bother” He hung up and threw his phone on the couch. 

Now, John had regretted that he met you. You two started talking less and less with each other. You haven’t even visited him in the hospital after the operation, making excuses that you couldn’t leave the work. At that moment, everything you’ve built in four years started falling apart. He wondered what went wrong after he visited you.

John was focusing on his rehabilitation and being back on the ice. You were focusing on your work. You’ve been dating all the time but both of you felt that this relationship is over. You haven’t had a proper conversation in weeks. You two barely texted. You decided to visit John thinking that maybe you can still fix it.

“Hi there” You said.

“Hi” He was surprised to see you.

“You are not happy to see me? You joked.

“Actually no” He crossed his arms on his chest.

“What the fuck Marino? I flew here to see you and you don’t want me there?”

“Oh please, stop acting”

“What’s your problem?”

“You are my problem” He said.

“Enlighten me” You were getting frustrated.

“You can’t be that dumb” He laughed.

“Why are you acting like a fucking bitch?” You asked him.

“Me? Fuck, you are dumber than I thought. You wanted a long distance, fine. I accepted it even when I wanted you here with me. Later, you got insecure over it and I helped you. You started working more and completely forgot about me! I told you about my operation and you weren’t there for me. I don’t want to be with someone who doesn’t support me. We are supposed to be a team but you prefer to get drunk at every occasion instead of being with your injured fiancé” John said in one breath with anger boiling inside of him. 

“You don’t want to be with me?” You asked.

“No. I don’t want to be with someone who acts like a bitch and this is how you are acting”

“So you just gonna throw away the four years because I haven’t been with you during your operation?” You laughed.

“Can’t you see? We barely talked with each other in the past month. I don’t even know what’s happening in your life anymore. I love you but this is the best decision” John sighed.

“Fine! Let it be your way” You took the engagement ring and threw it at him then continued. “Let me grab my stuff so you can be free again” You went to pack all the things you had in his place. John hasn't stopped you. He knew that’s the best for both of you. He was tired of fighting for this relationship. “I’ll send you your stuff and you can close this chapter. I really thought you were my soulmate but I guess I was wrong. Have a nice life in Utah” You said and left.

When you closed the doors, you started crying. You knew that you fucked up but never thought that he would broke up with you. You came to fix up the mess you made but he already made a decision about your future. John was the best thing that ever happened to you and now he was gone. You knew that you had to move on but how? Your whole life in New York reminded you about him.

Weeks later, you found out that you’re pregnant. You were carrying John’s kid. You didn’t know what to do. 

Should you tell him?

What if he thinks that you baby trapped him to get back together?

One thing you knew for sure. You want to keep the kid with or without his help.

2025

Your life changed completely after you found out that you’re pregnant. You tried to work hard in New York despite the fact that you were growing a new life inside of you. After a month, you decided to take a break. You couldn’t be much of a help in this state. First week of being at home and resting was fun but you got bored very quickly. Your friends tried to convince you to reach out to John and tell him about the situation but you were too stubborn.

John was still going through rehabilitation. He was back in training and couldn’t wait to have a debut with the new team. He felt like his life was coming back again on the right track. Well, that was a lie. He missed you badly, but he didn’t want to bother you. He was aware that it was his decision to break up. He still had her engagement ring in the apartment. Maybe you two weren’t together but he could feel your presence thanks to this item.

You went to another ultrasound. Today was the day when you finally found out what the gender of your and John’s kid. To your surprise, you have learned that you’re expecting twins. You cried at this news. You knew that you wouldn't be able to make it by yourself with two kids. At that moment you knew that you had to share this information with John. 

Will he be mad at you for keeping this from him? 

Would he even pick up the phone? 

You pushed the thoughts and called him when you got back home.

“Hi John” You said not trusting her voice.

“Oh, hello” He was surprised to hear your voice but also he was delighted. 

“I need to tell you something but promise me, you won’t get mad at me”

“Okay…” He was confused.

“I… I’m pregnant or more likely we’re pregnant. I’m 20 weeks pregnant and we’re gonna have twins” John stayed quiet for a minute before you spoke again. “Please say something” You started crying. You felt like it was a bad idea to call.

“I don’t really know what to say. I didn't expect this news”

“Look, if you don’t want to have to do anything with them…” Before you could finish, John said.

“That’s not what I said. Did you really think I’ll let you be by yourself with this? I just don’t know how to react. I mean, I’m happy but we’re far away from each other. You are in New York and I’m in Salt Lake City” He said.

“If it’s not a problem for you, I can move to Salt Lake City. My contract will expire before I give birth so I’m free” You felt bad for even proposing this but you knew it’s the best for the kids.

“Yeah, sure. Umm, do you need help with moving here? I’m still in rehabilitation so I can ask the coach for a free week and explain to him the situation” He proposed.

“I don’t want to cause you problems, especially since you had a back injury”

“Let me help you… Please”

“Okay” You said softly.

“Start packing and I’ll be as fast as I can. Be careful and don’t lift heavy things”

“Understood. Also, thank you Johnny” He hasn't said anything back, just smiled when he hung up.

Months went by. You are eight months pregnant now. John was more than supportive to you. It was tough after he came back to playing but he tried his best. He went to every ultrasound with you and was taking care of everything. Still, you were only friends. None of you brought up the conversation about being back together. All of it felt so natural and you two didn’t want to ruin it.

Unexpectedly, you started giving birth two weeks before the due date. John was in a different state at that time. You called him and he tried to be as fast as possible with you. Unfortunately, he missed the birth but he was there with you to choose the names. Real problem started when the nurse asked for the last name.

“I know that we are not together but I would love them to have my last name” John said.

“But I want them to have my last name” You responded.

“They should have their father’s last name”

“Says who?” You felt offended. 

“Says almost everyone”

“Johnny, you said that we are not together so I think they can have my last name”

“What if we get back together?” He asked.

“What? You can’t be serious right now”

“I am. I still love you and I would love to be back with you. I never brought this conversation because I was the one who ended things between us but I’m willing to have this talk now”

“Oh thank God!” You said.

“What does it supposed to mean?” He asked confused.

“It means that I still love you and would love to try again” He smiled widely at your words.

“Can we come back to the part where you are my fiancée or do I have to propose again?”

“You don’t have to propose again” You laughed.

“So, the kids are taking my last name right?”

“Only if I can take it too”

“With pleasure” John leaned down and kissed you. The kiss was full of emotion but also the beginning of a new chapter.

2026

You and John were already married. You never returned to work. You decided to sacrifice your life to raise the kids. Although, it wasn’t the only reason why you haven’t come back to work or even searched for one. The real reason was the fact that you were pregnant again. This time with John by your side through all the journey. All pregnancy went smoothly and after nine months, you two welcomed your third kid to the world.

Your relationship wasn’t the easiest one but you two were definitely soulmates. From an unexpected meeting in one of the bars in Pittsburgh, later to moving on to New Jersey and thereafter to a long distance relationship and break up. Just to end up together because of the miracle of pregnancy.

You and John have never been happier.

[softmangoes]

what if you both came back wrong? wanting, after all this time, all the pain you endured, to make it right? you are finally together, yet the hands of your beloved are different. there are so many scars. they feel colder than you remember. although the love in your eyes is familiar, a space you have reserved for them and only them, the memory of the laugh they once cherished so much is hazy.

the tide of time has weathered the both of you, it seems. the past is gone. there is only the constant present and the infinitely winding future. will you take their hand to face it all? can you bear it?

[boxwinebaddie]

rip in honor of an anon who asked me to have ravenstan and jerseykyle write them something cute ( smh jk )

this never fails to be funny to me