#have you seen what he's made recently!!!!!

[hazelfoureyes]

The Big Part (2)

Part 1

Alastor x Recently deflowered fem reader

Alastor had said he saved something for the next night after taking your virginity, and after what felt like a month and more of waiting, the next night finally came. As did Alastor. Multiple times.

「warnings/promises: smut, p in v, creampie, demon Alastor, Alastor isn’t so nice tonight cuz he’s ready to bust a nut babe sorry, cervix hulk smashed, drooling, lotsa cum, sex with the lights on, pretzel reader, curiosity killed the pussy cat, dom Alastor, organs shifted, it’s 2am so my proofreading may be shit」

Part 2

The Big Part: Bigger and Wetter

minors dni pls thank you bbs

Were you a whore? Or one of those sex addicted nymphos?

Ever since Alastor slid out of you and left you alone you could still feel him. A phantom limb of sorts, nestled between your legs and sunk to the hilt.

Was that normal? You couldn’t be sure. Not that you could ask anyone. Once again, same dilemma, Husk would groan and shoo you away. Angel would just start describing all of the dicks he wished he still felt.

More pressing, somehow, was the fact Alastor had scheduled to return tonight. Same time. You had no idea what time you’d been shadow portalled into your room the previous night.

To be safe, you returned to your room as soon as nightfall came. What if he came and you hadn’t been there? What if he never came back at all?

Despite your best efforts, you hadn’t seen him since he, you buried your head in your hands to hide from no one, deflowered you. What a silly word. You’d be a mess of damp pedals and scattered pollen had you been a flower. 

Biology of plants aside, the word pollen brought to mind the ‘first’ you’d be treated to soon. You crossed your legs, the idea of making Alastor cum was exciting enough. But to feel it? You couldn’t imagine. 

But you wanted to. 

Scooting back onto the bed, you settled under the covers. Maybe that craving would be cured with a little imagination. With embarrassing speed, you slipped your hand into your pants and down to your core. You were already so wet just from thinking about Alastor. Nearly pathetic levels of aroused, panties soaked. Kicking off your pants and underwear, you let your fingers feel at your entrance for the first time since Alastor pulled out. You didn’t feel different to the touch. But there was a throbbing ache inside you.

Your nondominant hand snaked around your thigh. One finger, then two, you remembered his hips against your body. The way he told you to make yourself orgasm. 

It wasn’t enough. You managed a third finger. Your free hand came to your clit. He’d just been there. Less than 24 hours before, you and he occupied the same space.

The hunger didn’t ebb. It wasn’t the size, or the speed, your newly greedy cunt wanted someone. Maybe fingers would never again be enough to satisfy you. Had Alastor knowingly cursed you to a lifelong addiction? You could almost hear him, smirk in his voice, “Missing me that much already?”

Your hand flew from your body, pitched knees caving in. You thought your heart might squeeze through the confines of your ribs from fright. As you looked over the blanket, there stood Alastor leaning on his microphone. His eyes were sharp, moving from your face to your lap and back.

“It’s a little rude to start the festivities before all the guests have arrived.” His hand gripped the blanket and yanked it off of you and the bed entirely. Exposed, your hands came back down to hide yourself which only made the deer demon laugh. “Darling, what’s there to hide?”

His shadow slithered up the wall behind him, voice crackling as an old radio filter cut through, “I’ve done more than look at you already.”

That somehow didn’t make it any less embarrassing. More so, as you thought about it. He’d done so much more than look. Alastor had been inside you.

When you didn’t say anything, he put one knee onto your bed and leaned forward. He used his microphone to slot between your legs and spread them open, “Remove your hands.”

You didn’t immediately respond.

“Oh, sorry,” a glow from his eyes as his head tilted unnaturally, “I suppose I wasn’t clear. That wasn’t a request, dear. If we’re going to do this you’re going to have to do as you’re told.” The tone of his voice paired with his changing eyes made you tremble. Your hands slipped up your stomach as you let him take in the sight of your glistening lips, already wet from your lazy fingering. “Good girl.”

He watched you clench and you swore you saw him swallow hard in response. A hum, “I’ll save that for tomorrow. Now!” He clapped, microphone flashing out of existence, “I believe we have a date. A new first for the taking.”

He was particularly excited about this one. Taking your virginity was definitely an amusing trophy but the idea of seeding your still virginal womb brought a twisted smile to his face. First in life and death to mark you from the inside. 

Alastor had spent all day avoiding you. He was quite worried just the sight of your hips swaying as you moved down the hall would incite him to take hold and bend you over the nearest surface. He hadn’t had sex in quite a while before your offer, but this little advent calendar of firsts you had so easily agreed to was triggering unusual reactions from him. His mind was plagued with all the ways he could change you. All of the sounds you’d offer him exclusive first rights to enjoying. All of the little flashes of fear and embarrassment you’d display as he claimed new parts of your body with his own. 

Already hard and throbbing in his pants, he knew he wouldn’t last too long. But luckily he had every intention of drowning your pussy so that wouldn’t be an issue. 

You watched his half lidded eyes scan over your body, tongue swiping over his lips. A fox in the hen house.

“You’ve already prepared I see! How considerate.” He inched closer. One hand removing his belt and pulling his leaking cock out in a scene you were happy to repeat, his other hand came to your entrance. Three fingers pushed into you, longer and thicker than your own. Immediately your expression shifted from embarrassed to debauched. That burn of his stretch was reminding you of how much he opened you up the night before.

You hadn’t realized you’d closed your eyes until they popped open in response to an unexpected sound. A lusty sigh coming from Alastor, his hand gripping the base of his member tightly as he finger fucked you. Being unsure what he was doing didn’t stop you from gripping his fingers tighter. Did it feel good for him to hold so tightly at himself? You clamped down again, his fingers stilling. Finally his eyes left your lap to meet your stare, following your line of sight to his hand around his cock.

“Perhaps,” his fingers pulled out, “You aren’t the only one eager to continue yesterday’s games.”

Games. You wouldn’t call any of this a game. But you were happy to play along if it meant that ache would soon be calmed. 

A pick up in your heart rate as he began undressing.

“Why today? Why get naked today?” A sharp look made you shrink, “I’m not complaining just…curious.”

A roll of his eyes, “I don’t want to stain my pants.”

Your eyes closed, needing a moment to calm down. What did that mean. Stain? With what??

You’d seen porn before, you weren’t completely naive. How much exactly would he…you opened your eyes, his face close to yours.

Mind blank. Skull entirely hollow as a clawed finger traced down your cheek. Gentle. Uncharacteristically gentle. Frighteningly gentle.

His nose grazed yours, hand tilting your face slightly so his mouth could ghost over yours without hitting against your nose. His smile open and letting his hot breath roll over your lips and chin.

Your eyes screwed shut, gasping sharply as you were taken by surprise by his sudden and complete entrance into you. Alastor had gotten close to drink in your expression when he entered you. He bottomed out in one move, a soft slap of his body hitting into yours. His sharp and predatory expression softening with the feeling of you surrounding him entirely. He hadn’t expected to react that way so he had no time to try and steel against the pleasured response.

An honest and open moment between you both, before his usual unbothered demeanor returned. 

“Much easier than before, right, dear?”

You could almost feel his grin on your skin. The ache dulled but didn’t leave you. Without thinking your hips rolled against him, itching for the friction your body craved. 

Alastor was entirely taken aback. Whimpering virgin turned hungry doe. His hands came to your hips and held you still, genuinely making you whimper.

“Now now, you’re getting ahead of yourself.” his nails dug into your flesh. 

Hitched breath, clenching now around the firm but yielding length spreading you open at the center. His head fell down slightly as shadows grew up the walls. Little prongs stretching out before his hips pushed against you. No drawback, just a deeper press. Your delicate but hungry organ moved with his intrusion and pulled a gasp from you.

Black dripped from his lips as sharp teeth cut against his grin before his eyes came up to meet yours, “Do you want me to take more of your first experiences?”

Voice heavy as it hit the air between you, the murmur of a waiting audience crisp and distant behind his tone.

You nodded. Of course you did. After the previous night you were desperate to feel everything you’d been missing out on.

His hips rolled into yours, pushing your stomach up with his length.

A moan, delayed as your senses were struggling to understand the still novel sensations. 

“Say it.”

Not a request. 

“I want you-.”

“Alastor.”

“I want you, Alastor, to take more firsts.”

His hips rolled again, that infamous grin reaching his ears. “Use your manners, my little doe.”

Another involuntary spasm around him, “Please.”

As if he was prepared for your answer, because he was, because he knew there was no other answer, his body was ready with a snap of his hips. “Perhaps I was too accommodating last night?” Another languid and punishing roll of his hips that started at his chest, allowing his entire length to slip out of you before just as easily pushing back in. Your eyes slid shut, mind fractured as it focused on the claws pressing into your flesh, on the still slight burn of your opening stretching at his widest part, at his voice making your body shiver. 

A tiny part of you thought you may actually die if he didn’t pick up the pace. 

He considered trying to keep his release at bay, but knew he’d have time to enjoy you as many times as he wanted. Your unspoken wish granted, his speed jumping from lazy and considered to determined and frantic. The warmth you provided, the slick wetness he coaxed out of you, all of it was thickening the fog of his mind. Finding an even rhythm to pull back the tension of his orgasm, you found yourself scrambling under him. The goal was definitely different now than the prior night, and as your eyes opened you could see he had clenched his shut. You knew what was coming, and though you weren’t actively trying to cum you still found a building pressure in your gut.

When your legs began to kick up to make some distance between his cock and your cervix, the pace so deep and rushed your body was feeling overstimulated already, his hands grabbed both ankles and pressed them as far up as your muscles could stretch. Your knees nearly pressed into your shoulders, raptured groans escaping you when you could feel all you’d done was allow him deeper access to you.

“Al-ah!” His name was too long, much like the other part of him choking you up now. Helpless to stop it, panicked by the feeling, you felt tears forming as your orgasm was truly forced out of you. You saw white as you trembled, crying out little pleas for him to let up the stimulation but he wasn’t listening anymore. His ears were pressed to his skull and ringing, heartbeat pounding in his head and down his cock.

What a help you were, squeezing him like your body needed his release as badly as he wanted to give it. You felt the heat of his seed filling you before his hips slowed, not stopping but pulling out more and more with every thrust until he was finishing on your lower lips.

His clawed thumb wiped the dripping liquid up and down your folds. Dirty. But dirtied by him, before anyone else. Alastor watched the way your hole twitched and wanted to devour you.

A moment finally of relief for your nerves, you tried to stop the way your pussy was twitching and working his cum deeper inside. You were surprised how hot you found it, a strange swelling of your pride at your body making him cum and a deep satisfaction at feeling that warm liquid coating your walls. Oh no, another addiction? Something else your fingers could never do…

You felt sleepy, emotionally rocked and physically spent, you sighed dramatically, “Alastor-,”

His other hand released your ankle but instead of pulling away, he gripped your hips and rolled you to your stomach.

A second of panicked confusion. “What are you doing?” You lifted yourself up on your elbows and looked back. Wide and creaking antlers loomed over you, eyes black and pupils red looking straight through you. Hungry. 

Something possessed you, not quite fear. Something even more base than that took in the demonic Alastor and felt compelled to raise your hips. “Alastor?” A little purposeful clenching, semen slipping past your still untouched clit and dribbling down your thighs and stomach as your head lowered back to the bed. 

Following an order you hadn’t been given yet was easy when his eyes were locked on your core. You whined, a new position meant a new angle so you held tightly to one of your pillows in anticipation.  

Your face pressed into the pillow as his body rubbed against yours. The hands on your thighs scratching upwards, “Words, sweetheart.” Deeper than before, scratchy and strained.

Biting your lip you considered just spontaneously combusting and turning to ash, but you wanted to feel more, you needed to see what else he could offer. Curiosity, pussy cats, a joke you couldn’t find the functioning neurons to piece together as you struggled to squeak out, “Are you done, Alastor? Or, I can k-keep going.” The heat of your blush threatened to follow through with the combustion, face burning with embarrassment for saying something so needy.

He knew you could. Lubed and softened, Alastor’s dick pressed into you and sank in with ease. That was the only response you received. Your body, for the first time ever, felt like it was made to take him. Everything felt swollen and sensitive as his still hard member pulled and pushed at your walls. The kind of sounds people paid to hear were filling the room, your moans long and deep now. The wet slap of his balls against your pussy sounded so sharp against the rounded breaths you seemed to sigh out.

Despite his sudden increase in size, your body gave way easily. Rutting into you, Alastor felt like a lesser creature. How rarely he dropped the more complicated facets of being an overlord and just let the demon in him dictate his moves. You were a different feast entirely to the lowly shark sinners he so easily took apart some time ago. A different kind hunger being satiated and stoked again in a lustful cycle. 

It felt like you were molded to him, forgetting his shape and learning it anew every time he buried himself into you. Looking down through the sharp contrast his demon form offered he could see himself being taken in deeper than before. He regretted suddenly not looking for the bulge he surely made earlier in your stomach as he had the night before. 

Your body had bones, you were sure of it, but you collapsed like jelly into the mattress. Alastor’s hips followed yours down, never missing a beat as he continued a bruising force. Your mind was swimming as your brain was 80% pleasure reception and 20% breathing deep enough to stay conscious. Heart beat dictated by the pitch of his breath. 

Drool soaked into your pillow, cum dripping down onto your blankets. Sweat slick body rocking into the bed as you felt a pulse at your clit. The electricity a response to your thoughts, your realization you were a cocksleeve for the cruelest overlord in recent memory. Was this an achievement? It felt like one. Another, louder moan from you as his breaths turned to growls. 

The blankets were ripped as his clawed hands balled into fists around you. 

What an education you were receiving. What a thorough teacher Alastor was for you. Your body already responding so well to your new lessons.

A daring move that got you scolded earlier but you pushed your ass back up into his body to greet him. This time Alastor was happy for it, the softness of your ass shaking as he humped down into your wet heat. Soft flesh he wanted to grip and bruise and scratch but he kept enough of himself to remember you were breakable. 

Too new still for a lesson on pain. No, right, he was supposed to be offering you the new sensations of being seeded.

Your hips were fucked off the bed as his speed quickened, your back bending uncomfortably.  You bit into the corner of the pillow, needing to do something with the static ricocheting inside your body. A flicker of the lights you had forgotten were still on was the only warning before both of his hands came to press between your shoulders and pin you down. A set of three thrusts, each deeper than the last as he came a second time. 

Your legs kicked up again, hitting lightly at the back of his legs as he reached a new depth, twinge of pain deep in your center as he pressed.

With a sigh, all of the air left your lungs. His hands slid down your back with a tickle, holding your cheeks open so he could watch himself pull out of you entirely.

Voice and body back to normal, Alastor patted softly at your thighs, “Thoroughly fucked now, dear. I’d say your pesky virginity has been completely and utterly taken.”

You couldn’t reply, brain going quiet as a blissed out sleep creeped up your spine.

“Happy to be of service, do come find me when you’re ready for my help again.” Was all you heard before his laugh was fading away. Either into the darkness of your dreams or into his own shadow, you couldn’t be sure. You were out cold before that laughter went quiet. 

ᡣ𐭩ˋ°•*⁀➷ masterlist

∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult (general tag list):

∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult (general tag list):

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei ,  @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog  , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima a , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @rubyninja1 , @simphornies

, @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog , @thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies , @howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf ,  , @fizzled-phoenix ,  @phobophobular  , @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 , @whateverlololo    , @roxxie-wolf , @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 @watereddownmilk   , @bontensbabygirl 

#alastor x reader #alastor x reader smut #alastor smut #alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin alastor #fanfiction

[hannieehaee]

OUTTA MY MIND (teaser)

18+ / mdi

summary: getting a brand new job as a senior idol's manager was scary enough on its own, but it became even worse when said idol was jeon jungkook, idol of all idols. what made it even worse? when jungkook began taking a special liking to you, damning any conflict of interest his crush on you may have had.

content: idol!au, staff!reader x idol!jungkook, jungkook is shameless about his crush on reader, but it's fine bc reader likes him back!!, reader acts hard to get bc her job is too important though boo, afab reader, banter, jk is a flirt, reader is a little bit shy, a lot of rlly wrong info about working in the industry, smut, oral (f receiving), penetrative sex, etc.

(^ no actual content warnings in the teaser)

wc: 924 (teaser); 7.7k (full fic)

release date: may 31st

or you can check it out on my ko-fi or patreon today by subscribing to either one!

a/n: ive had this in the drafts for a while but kept forgetting to finish it lol anyways i hope u guys enjoy it once it comes out<3 (also not 100% proofread oops..)

masterlist | kofi/patreon

support me through a one time tip<3

Whenever you'd tell someone you worked within the entertainment industry, – the music industry, to be precise – people always showed a little extra interest in your words, probably assuming you to be involved in the flashier aspects of it. The statement on it's own sounded exciting, enigmatic even. This would only then be followed by disappointed upon finding out your specific profession of choice, deeming it less exciting than most.

You were a manager. No, you were not an active member of the entertainment industry itself, but you were one of the many pillars necessary for the talent to create the entertainment people would always seek.

Being as young as you were, it had been hard to get to where you were so quickly. Networking had been your best friend all throughout your career, eventually landing you in your current role – one that would only open even more doors for you.

It had only been a week since you had received a call from your friend – an old friend from an internship who just so happened to be a former Hybe video producer – letting you know of a recent opening as one of the many managers at the company. Having been between gigs at the time, you jumped at the chance without a second thought. Hybe? The biggest entertainment company in Korea? You didn't need any details before agreeing.

It was a few days later in which you found out the details. The opportunity had been even more life-altering than you'd thought.

Originally, you had believed you'd end up becoming manager to one of the many brand new rookie groups in the growing company. With so many surging youth in the industry, it made sense to you that you'd be assigned such a role, not having had any prior experience within Hybe itself.

Except that wasn't the case. Having previously worked and interned at a few other South Korean entertainment companies through the years, it seemed like Hybe deemed you experienced enough to assign you the role of becoming a senior artist's manager.

Jeon Jungkook.

Senior artist had been an understatement. Those had been the words written in your contract, explaining your role in excruciating detail, yet failing to mention that your client would be Korea's most popular singer.

You couldn't lie, you were insanely intimidated by your new role. Despite being proudly skilled at your job, becoming the manager of an idol who had been in the game for longer than you'd even been out of college was a bit scary. Jungkook had gone from the absolute bottom to the top, he had most likely lived through it all by now – what kind of expertise could you offer someone who had already seen it all?

Being manager of an idol differed slightly from managing any other person. Idol companies usually handled the schedulings, bookings, and the legalities of their artists. As a manager, you somewhat took the role of a bodyguard. You were meant to show up everywhere Jungkook went and become his spokesperson – vying for him as if your life depended on it.

And now it was too late to back out – not that you actually wanted to. All paperwork had been signed, you had your own personal Hybe badge and all the benefits that came along with working at the company. Any feelings of intimidation or fear for the role would have to be put aside as you walked into the Hybe building to meet with your new client; the boy you'd have to stick by 24/7 from now on.

You weren't sure what you were expecting upon meeting him. It wasn't like there would be any special introduction, or even as if you were his sole manager; no, he actually had a few others who would occasionally aid him in the absence of his main manager, which was now you. Today was a workday for him, meaning that he likely already had a few people in supportive roles as he did whatever it was that Jeon Jungkook did while working.

Walking into the huge building, after getting lost a few times, you made your way to the seventh floor, which, as you'd been informed, had various rooms designated for photoshoots. That's where you'd find Jungkook for the first time, presumably having one of the many shoots scheduled for this week.

Having possession of his schedule made you realize how busy idol life was. Despite having no public schedules all this week, he had a packed itinerary, filled with either shoots or signings or producing sessions. You hadn't even met him yet, but you were already assured that he was overly hardworking – and you had maybe also stalked him online this past week.

It was very unlikely you'd even speak to him, seeing how busy he was. Your duty, after all, was just to be one of the many members of his team, taking care of any logistics as you went around with him, but not taking away from his time by socializing with him.

Upon entering the room, he was the first thing you noticed. Ignoring every other person working the room, your eyes focused specifically on him. It was hard not to, since he was quite literally standing under the spotlight, modeling for a camera. But it was more than that. He had an aura that filled up the room. Putting aside every stylist and photographer in the room, every staff member and intern, he was truly the epitome of main character.

Fuck. Was this going to cause trouble?

....

you can check it out today on my ko-fi or patreon by subscribing to either one!

#bts smut #bts imagine #bts x reader #bts fanfic #jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader #jungkook scenario #jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #bookmarks

[ireneispunk]

Duty

Jacaerys Velaryon x female reader smut

After a rough start to your marriage, whispers from the palace cause you and your betrothed to start what you should have done months ago; produce an heir.

w.c: 1487

c.w: SMUT 18+, NO use of Y/N, not exactly enemies but y'all beefing, hate sex (if you squint, but more like dislike sex and its more just sass idfk), mention of pregnancy, breeding kink, afab reader, p in v sex, fingering, overstimulation, pls let me know if i've missed any

a.n: so i recently watched the queen charlotte bridgerton spin off and i absolutely loved it, this is very inspired by charlotte and george's earlier dynamic tee hee.

Four months and 3 days. That is how long it has been since your wedding, and how long you have loathed your husband. The two of you were not exactly close before your betrothal on account of the rapidness of it but the tensions that spread between parts of his family did not help. You both seem to fight every conversation you had thereafter, so it became easier to avoid each other. That was until around 3 months into your betrothal that questions of when you would need your dresses altering had you worried. You were supposed to making heirs but you both exploded whilst in the same room as each other.  You’d visited the prince in his separate room and communicated the issue, he was reading by the fire. You played with your fingers in your hands as he eyed the flaw, thinking intently. He placed his book face down on the table as he petted the bench beside him. You hesitated for a moment, before sitting next to him. “Once a week, we will fulfil our, uh, duty to try and produce an heir. Once you are with child we will stop.” You thought for a moment, before nodding. You couldn’t help but feel your heart sink. This was not what you had wished for in your marriage. Jacaerys was a painfully handsome man, dark curls that framed he chiselled features.

“It is the end of the week today, your grace.” You spoke, not fully considering the implications of the statement. But the quicker your belly was full the better.

He turned to you, hesitated for a moment before moving closer to you and pulled you onto his lap. You were surprised by the sudden closeness of someone, let alone your husband. He looked up from beneath you with a glimmer of what he had on your wedding night, without the naïve hope. His hands slid up from your hips to the bust of your dress, he looked into your eyes before giving the bodice of your dress a quick tug down allowing your breast to spill out. You gasped as his hands cupped over your breasts, massaging them before running a thumb over your nipple. You brought your bottom lip between your teeth as you felt a warmth spread over your body. You didn’t dare look him in the eye, keeping your eyes shut or trained on the ceiling. You felt as one hand left your breast and hike up your dress further up your hips. He sighed to himself slightly, at the sight of your exposed cunt. He could not believe his luck the first time he had saw you. You were quite possibly the most beautiful woman he had ever seen and unfortunately that did not change the more you both disliked each other. If anything, it grew. Seeing you from across the room at formal engagements, gluing to his side when you needed to seem like the happy couple. It made the frustrations between the two of you even more palpable over the past few months, given the lack of relief. You opened your eyes to see his dark eyes looking up at you. He brought his two first fingers up to your lips, “Open.” His soft tone contradicted the demand and look upon his face. His fingers slid into your mouth, gliding across your tongue as you closed your lips around them. Out of sheer lust you grinded your hips against him, needing to feel some release and gaining small jolt at the feeling of your cunt rubbing against his clothed cock. His free hand shot to your waist, fingers digging into the soft flesh. He removed his fingers from your mouth, admiring his spit covered fingers for a moment before they reached between your thighs and lightly grazed across your clit. You jolted, leaning forward to grip the bench behind him.

You could not stop the moan that escaped your mouth as his fingers slowly ran circles across your clit. He smirked as the noises that fell from your lips, knowing how much you couldn’t bare to be around him but fell apart in his arms was a satisfying feeling.  “I did not know you were so needy, dear wife.” The honorific felt like a pin prick. Insincere and laced with sarcasm.

Despite the tightening growing in your stomach, you could not let him have the final word as usual. “You hadn’t been paying close enough attention, your grace.” A flash of frustration flashed upon his face as his hand moved to grip your hair and fingers plunged inside of you. A gasp left you as his fingers thrusted deep inside of your cunt, you had gone from strolling towards an orgasm to being thrown at it. The tips of his fingers curled slightly, deliciously massaging that spot inside your pussy that drove you wild. You jaw fell open, eyes going wide at the loss of contact when he removed his fingers from you. You went to protest before seeing his cock in his hands, brows furrowed as he stroked the length.

You couldn’t hold off any longer before you took a hold of his wrists and pushed his hands away to his sides. You took his cock into your hand giving it a few pumps, watching an expression of lust spread across his face. You leaned over slightly, letting a ball of spit leave your lips and watch as it slid down his cock. He hissed, returning his hands to your hips pulling you closer to him. You took the hint, angling his cock towards your pussy, rubbing the tip over your clit for your own pleasure a few times, before lining him up and sliding down slowly, a large groan left his lips as be bottomed out inside of you. You had forgotten just how big his cock was, and just how good it had felt filling you up. You began to raise your hips up and down, moans leaving your lips as you did. You worked at a steady pace but after being accustomed to his hands began to push up and down with the movements of your hips moving you faster. Your fingernails dug into his shoulders as he pounded into you, no matter how much your stifled your moans, you gave him the satisfaction of them loudly leaving your lips. His hand reached up to yours, removing it from his shoulders and moving your fingers between your legs. You immediately got his instruction, fingers latching onto your clit. You worked tight circles into it as you got filled over and over with Jacaerys’ cock. A familiar tightness returned to your stomach as your head dropped back and numerous illicit words left your lips. Recognising your peak, he pulled you forward by your thighs, almost pressing your bodies against each other as he quickened his pace. Your orgasm cascaded over you, feeling your pussy tighten around Jacaerys’ cock and your body buzz from the overstimulation. You rode out your high atop of him, watching as his eyes screwed shut and his thrusts became sloppier.

You took the opportunity to return your knees to the bench either side of him and bob your hips up and down as fast as you could. His fingers reached the lip of the bench gripping it until his knuckles turned white. “Mmm, my grace,” You moaned out. His eyes shot open, his heart pounding at your remark. “Please fill me with your seed.” You pleaded and moaned, half doing it for a reaction, half because it felt too good. His jaw hung open in shock for a split second before he sputtered a moan from his lips, hips snapping into yours. You felt satisfied as a warmth filled your pussy. Your hips moved slightly, slowly thrusting his cock inside of you still. His hand shot to your hip, mumbling something, before you placed your hand flat across his chest. You bobbed a few more times on his cock, being sure to be as full as possible with his cum. You smirked to yourself seeing his head throne back, lip quivering, veins prominent in his hands gripping your waist, sweaty curls sticking to his neck. You slowly raised yourself off of his cock, standing to your feet and trying to mask your wobbliness as adjusting your dress.

You stole a glance his way, admiring his beauty before he spoke and ruined it. He panted through his mouth, arms outstretched over the sides of the bench. You smirked to yourself, admiring how he too had crumbled for you. The opening of his doorhandle caused him to call your name from behind you. You glanced at him and smiled. “Goodnight your grace, see you in seven eves’.” He opened his mouth to response, but you had already shut the door behind you. You hoped it would be sooner before he fucked you again.

#jacaerys x reader #jacaerys x you #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys velaryon smut #hotd smut #jacaerys smut #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd x reader #jacaerys velaryon x reader smut #jacaerys targaryen #prince jacaerys #hotd fanfic #jacaerys velaryon x y/n smut #jacaerys imagine #game of thrones #game of thrones smut #asoif #asoif/got #fanfic #smut #jacaerys fluff #fluff smut #hotd jacaerys #jacaerys fanfiction

[mariasont]

Cause I'm a Sinner - S.R

a/n: have yall seen the tiktok of reece witherspoon saying sinner instead of singer, yeah, that's what this is inspired by lmaooo

masterlist

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: spencer reid x bimbo!receptionist!reader

summary: you keep singing the lyrics wrong and spencer has to fight the urge to correct you

warnings: fluffity fluff fluff, spencer reid being so cutesy, reader singing in the office like girl pls people are working

wc: 0.7k

You find yourself playing with a curl of hair, humming a song that's become a recent obsession. The checkered fabric of your dress kisses your knees as you fiddle with the bracelets that decorated your arm. You're ordering new office supplies and trying your hardest to update the inventory Excel. The numbers could be confusing, but you managed.

"I'm working late 'cause I'm a sinner," you sing softly to yourself, your toes a glossy baby-blue tapping along with the beat.

It had been looping in your head all morning, and now, you're making it everyone else's problem. It had become the backdrop to your day, a private concert for anyone who passed by where the notes are just a tad off-key, and the words probably jumbled.

No sooner had Spencer walked in than his eyes were on you. The song you're mumbling is far from accurate, but strangely, they seem to fit you perfectly. In his eyes, many things seemed to.

He lingered for a second, watching you intently as you typed away at the computer, completely engrossed and unaware of him. You were the picture of focus which was rare. He considered correcting you, but something inexplicable held him back.

His mornings were always brightened by this scene: coming in and seeing your always-smiling face, which was, without question, always pretty, stunning, gorgeous, beautiful. He had a lexicon at his disposal, but no word seemed to truly be adequate.

As the chorus rolls around again, the same, wrong lyric slips out. He watches, a smile tugging at his lips, finding an unexpected sweetness in the way you cling to that line--the one part he thinks you're certain of.

Finally, Spencer clears his throat, deliberately stepping into your line of sight. He likes the way you have an involuntary reaction to him--the slight parting of your lips, the widening of your eyes, and the faint blush that dusts the apples of your cheeks.

"Oh, good morning, Dr. Reid!" you chirp brightly, a little louder than the quiet of the office warrants. He doesn't mind, and he can't imagine anyone else does.

He's just standing there, looking...well, looking like he always does, which is to say, effortlessly handsome. The urge to weave your fingers through his hair is overwhelming, so you clench your hands into tight fists on your lap instead.

"I'm digging the tie today," you add quickly. "I like that quirky geometric pattern. It's very...you."

Spencer peers down at his tie, a flicker of amusement in his eyes--most things you said had that effect.

"A pentagon?" he asks, cocking an eyebrow. It's not often that his choice of tie garners attention, but your enthusiasm rubs off on him.

"Oh, yeah, that!" you exclaim, your eyes alight with a keen interest that makes the tie seem like it's the most interesting thing you've seen all day. It probably was. You tilt your head to the side like a curious kitten. "You're a little late, everything okay?"

"Just car trouble."

You nod, your smile solid and sure. "Well, I'm glad you made it!"

He nods in response, the corners of his mouth lifting into a soft smile. "I better get to the office, have a good day, yeah?"

"Awh, thanks, Spence! You too!" you replied.

You hadn't called him that before. It might have been something you overhead from JJ, but it hardly mattered. The way the nickname rolled off your tongue felt natural, leaving him momentarily breathless, a flush rising to his neck. Spencer turned to leave, offering a slightly clumsy wave that sent your cheeks into another aching grin.

But then, there it is again--that same misquoted lyric, sung with such innocent conviction. Spencer paused mid-step.

"You know I think it's actually singer, not sinner."

"Huh?" you blink, smile shrinking ever so slightly into a purse of confusion.

He was quick to reply, his eyes softening perceptibly as they took in the slight dip in your smile. He had kind eyes. It was one of the first things you noticed about him.

"The lyric," he says softly. "It's singer, not sinner."

You hand flies to your mouth as a giggle breaks free. "Oh my gosh, really? I've actually been singing it wrong all day?"

"Well between us, I think I like your rendition a little better."

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x bimbo reader #spencer reid x fem reader #spencer reid fic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds #Spotify

[atombombkaytee]

I’ve watched the entire series again today in a hungover state and I CAN’T DEAL with all the parallels.

I mean, when Lucy finds out about her Dad’s true actions and origins - her whole world falls apart. She saw the vaults as safety - she looked up to her Dad more than anyone else in the world. She learns that he’s lied about who he is as a man and as her father, but also she must realise that the vault’s are hiding their own dirty secrets (especially after her experience at vault 4) and that her Dad is a part of that too. She even says to Max, after leaving vault 4, that if she destroyed a whole community to save him, he would be heartbroken: when that’s exactly what he did on an even grander and more terrible scale. Lucy’s life wasn’t even in direct danger to warrant that reaction - he’s just an insecure selfish arsehole.

At the very same time we see the flashback scene of Coop hearing Barb suggest that they drop the bombs on America. This woman that he loves and trusts and has made a family with - who he said he fell in love with because she always tries to do the right thing. Their reactions at the point of realisation - shock, inability to speak, almost dissociation - are both extremely similar. Him having gone through that betrayal before (and likely plenty of times since) is EXACTLY why he talks to Lucy how he does. He’s preparing her for the eventual heartbreak - because he has experience which states that nothing could ever be as perfect as she claims her life is. When he’s making ass jerky from Roger, he even tells her: there’s what people say they do and then there’s what they really do.

When you look at all of that, really, in the scheme of things, Coop - the man that she’s seen as this inhuman, cruel, murderous monster - he’s the good guy. He too thought his wife’s business with vault tec was abhorrent. Yes, he’s been warped and twisted by the wasteland and by his own trauma - but he does see this brightness in Lucy. He thought she was just naive and full of bullshit (especially being a vault dweller. Something which I’m sure triggered him considering his past with vault tec and the links to his wife) but when she proved herself by giving him the vials instead of letting him die, he’s probably amazed that there’s someone left in the world who isn’t just a liar and a terrible person. He’s so used to betrayal and violence by this point. She’s a good person - a trait that he literally said he was in love with his wife because of. She softens him.

But she also proves herself in another way - by shooting her feralled mother - showing that she’s also grown and learnt that not everything is black and white. It’s not just “good and bad” in this world. And although Coop has questionable morals, he’s honest, like her. He tells it how it is. Plus, after her Dad’s huge life changing betrayal and her time in the wasteland, she understands a little more why Coop has done all the things that she’s seen him do - I mean he did meet her pretty much day one out of the vault initially - hence why she goes with him. He has hardened her up to protect her in the wasteland.

Wilzig even says “will you still want the same things when you’re a different animal altogether.”

My god. It’s just genius. Absolutely genius.

“You comin’?”

Edit: Can we also talk about how Coop is basically the inspiration for the vault boy - who Lucy basically looks to (physically a few times throughout the series) for inspiration to do the right thing. AND the fact that her Dad was obviously a bit obsessed with Coop and probably still was when Lucy was born, seeing as he’d been in a pod and had only just woken up, retaining recent memories. So Lucy likely watched all of his films and her Dad maybe even saw him as a bit of a role model (or at least his in-film characters). AND the obvious exchange of index fingers. Yup. Honestly if this relationship doesn’t become cannon, I will start dropping bombs too.

ANOTHER EDIT: Sorry one last thing but, I just want to add: nothing that post-war Coop does is personal. It’s either: to get a job done, survival, because he’s been triggered by something (understandable after what’s he been through) or, in Lucy’s case, to teach a (admittedly often harsh) lesson. He doesn’t just mindlessly kill - or particularly enjoy killing - he just has no issue with it, it’s all just means to an end. He even still remembers to pay for his tomatoes in Filly ffs haha… I imagine he’s extremely numb and devoid of all feeling - except for when it comes to his wife and little girl. That’s the only time we see more visceral reactions in either actions or dialogue from him. He’s such an intricate character and Walton did an amazing job of portraying him.

#fallout #post apocalyptic #cooper howard #ghoul #bethesda #ghoul fucker #ghouls #Lucy Maclean #Hank Maclean #subtext #series #writing #ghoulcy #the ghoul #walton goggins #ella purnell #jonathan nolan #fallout amazon #tv adaptation #vaultghoul #spoilers #parallels

[andi-kook]

CYCLE ✦ Jungkook

SUMMARY: you know being with jungkook is toxic and sooner or later, another fight will ensue, and the cycle will continue – but you don’t care because you know deep in your heart that you’d rather have the pain he brings in your life than feel absolutely nothing at all.

PAIRING: Jungkook x Fem!Reader

GENRE: Angst, Yandere

WORD COUNT: 2039

WARNINGS: not suitable for audiences below 18. please do not engage with the story if you are underage. the story contains depiction of a toxic relationship + smut but not too descriptive (finger, light choking, marking, use of derogatory terms during sex, rough unprotected sex).

Despite being surrounded by your friends, blaring music and good alcohol – the emptiness following your most recent fight with your boyfriend of four years remains. By now, you should already be used to it, having engaged in countless fights and arguments with Jeon Jungkook and these would lead to no contact. Sometimes, you’d be the one who would have him blocked; sometimes, it was him. But neither of you could stand not being together so by the end of the week, one of you would have reached out and made amends.  

This recent fight, however, is different. First, it has been a month since the last time you ever spoke or seen Jungkook in the flesh. Despite numerous attempts to contact him, he would just completely ignore your texts and calls. He didn’t block you – not even on social media where you’d see him living out his best life which makes it even more painful because it was as if he was deliberately letting you know that he was ignoring you and that he was happier without you.  

Your friends, who had never liked Jungkook from the get-go, kept telling you that this should be the last straw. This should be the ultimate sign for you to finally move on from your on again, off again boyfriend. Clearly, according to them, he would much rather party and be with his equally despicable friends than have a proper adult conversation with you about your fight and relationship moving forward. You know this too – no, really, you do. You are a smart and logical young law student who has a full scholarship at the top law school in the country, a member of its Student Government and is being courted by several big and renowned law firms in the country for summer and winter internships.  

But when it comes to Jeon Jungkook, all that goes down the drain. When it comes to Jeon Jungkook, everything is tunnel vision.  

You’re on your fifth shot of tequila tonight, already feeling hot and tipsy but you don’t give a damn. You will do everything to make the void in your heart carved by your (ex) boyfriend fade at this point. Distracting yourself is just not cutting it – not with your studies or org works at the Student Government. So, when a man who seems to be around your age, whose features you cannot clearly make out with the ridiculous lighting in the club, makes small talks with you before ultimately asking you to dance – you agree.  

Now, you’re not much for dancing. You’re awkward in that aspect but the man, whose name is Wonwoo, takes the lead and you’re appreciative of this. His hands are placed respectfully on your waist while yours are around his neck. Up close, you can see a bit of his features like his cat-like eyes behind a silver circular rimmed eyeglass, pointed nose and small pink lips. Wonwoo smells nice too – his cologne is not as strong as Jungkook’s which you surprisingly like.  

Wonwoo leans into whisper in your ear, asking if it’s okay that he kisses you because he no longer can contain himself. He wants to taste you, have been wanting to the moment you enter the club. You gulp, mouth agape. You’ve never kissed anyone else besides Jungkook. Your lips have always just known Jungkook’s. Suddenly, you feel your chest tightening and you step away from him. You mutter a meek apology towards Wonwoo before you head back to where your friends are and grab your things.  

They ask what happened, where you’re going, and you make an excuse that you’re tired and wanted to rest already. Rina, the designated driver tonight, offers to drive you home but you decline, saying you just want to be alone for now. You don’t wait for any of their responses and head out of the club.  

Even though you don’t exactly know what is happening with your relationship with Jungkook right now, dancing with Wonwoo still makes you feel like you were cheating on him. It leaves a bitter taste in your mouth – and it’s not just the alcohol you consumed.  

You don’t know where your feet are taking you. All you know is that it’s already pouring, you have no umbrella, and you’re beginning to get cold due to the short black dress you’re wearing and nothing more. Then, you hear the familiar sound of a motorcycle engine. You know this because Jungkook owns one. You pay no mind to the nearing sound of the vehicle but when you hear that voice – you stop on your tracks.  

Looking over your shoulder, you see Jungkook, eyebrows furrowed, on his motorcycle. He has taken off his helmet, long curly hair soaked from the heavy downpour, wearing his favorite red and white leather jacket, jeans, and a thin white shirt underneath, outlines of his toned chest and pecks showing as the material sticks to them due to the rain.  

“Get on, Y/N. It’s raining, you’re dressed like that and you’re clearly drunk, seeing how your ankles are tripping over a straight road.”  

You’re shocked to see him to say the least. Of all the people who could have driven past you, Jungkook is the one. Your heart begins to race – is this a sign from the universe? It must be, right?  

“Get on, now.”  

His tone is more demanding now and as though you’re programmed, you immediately take the helmet from him and wear it before you mount his motorcycle, dress hiking up. You press your bare thighs against his wet jeans and habitually wrap your arms around his small waist. Jungkook doesn’t ask if you’re ready and speeds off.  

When you reach his apartment, after taking off your shoes, both of you walk to the bathroom to limit the wet patches to mop later. As though the two of you haven’t been talking to each other for a month, you comfortably take your clothes off beside one another in the medium-sized white bathroom.  

“Take a shower before you get sick,” Jungkook mutters before walking past you, about to exit his bathroom.  

But you grab his arm, and he looks at you with a stoic expression on his face. “You should take one too.”  

“I’ll take one after you.”  

“Let’s just do it together. Conserves water.” 

You don’t know if it’s the alcohol in your system that is making you bolder than you are. Or just the fact that you’ve showered Jungkook plenty of times than you didn’t that not having him in there doesn’t feel right anymore. He stares at you for a while before he grabs your hand, slides the door of the shower cubicle, and orders you to take off your underwear. You give it to him, and he tosses it outside along with his black Calvin Klein boxers.  

You switch on the shower. Jungkook tells you to turn around and hand him the shampoo. He squeezes some on his palm before lathering it on your hair, fingers scraping the dirt on your scalp. You close your eyes to the relaxing sensation. Then, he tells you to face him.  

You keep your gaze on him as he begins to rub the loofah around your body – beginning with your neck, down your arms your chest where his fingers ever so gently graze against your nipples, to your legs, and then your inner thighs. Your breathing becomes heavy when you feel his knuckles touching your labia and you jump when they graze over your aching clit.  

“Turn around, baby,” Jungkook says in a low voice. You waste no time in following his order. He rubs the loofah on your back, and down to your ass. Once he finishes lathering your body, he opens the shower again, and rinses the shampoo and soap off your body. You close your eyes once more to the relaxing sensation of his fingers in your hair then they begin to travel down your neck, arms, and he surprises you when he grabs your breasts with his veiny hands. Your eyes shoot open, and your mouth is agape as you meet Jungkook’s intense gaze as he squeezes and rolls your nipples between his thumbs and index finger.  

“Kook…” You breathe out as his hands free themselves from your breasts and travel down to your waist. He grabs the showerhead as he rinses your lower body.  

“Hand me your feminine wash,” Jungkook orders. “Gotta make sure your pussy is clean.”  

You’re already wet at his words. You give him your feminine wash and he tells you to squeeze a proportionate amount on his big palm. Then, he places the showerhead at your core, wetting it, before he rubs his palm against it. You let out a moan, grabbing onto his toned biceps as a smirk plays across Jungkook’s lips, spreading apart your labia to rub your clit. You hiss at the contact but find yourself grinding against his palm.  

“Look at you, getting off on my palm like some bitch on heat,” He says with a humorless laugh. “I’m cleaning your pussy, but you’re making it dirtier.”  

“Kook, please, I need you,” You whine desperately, spreading your legs further as Jungkook presses you against the cold tiled wall, showerhead dropping on the floor. He captures your lips with great intensity as he rubs your clit ferociously. You hook one leg around his waist, giving him more access to ruin your cunt. The sound of your pussy squelching while Jungkook wraps his free hand around your throat heightens your lust.  

“Fucking bitch, fucking dirty bitch, I’ll fucking ruin you tonight,” Jungkook promises as he pulls away but not too far. He captures your gaze again. His eyes are dark and hazy with lust. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Me destroying your cunt, your mouth, maybe even your ass. You deserve it anyway, right? For choosing your friends over me? Then acting like a slut towards that guy you were dancing with tonight.”  

You are in a daze. He doesn’t stop rubbing your cunt even if you have already cum. All you can do is nod but it’s not enough for him. He grabs your face. “Say it. Say that you deserve to be ruined by me.”  

“I-I deserve to be ruined by you, Jungkook.”  

He taps your cheek. “Open your mouth,” Jungkook commands. You obey. He gathers spit in his mouth and drops it into your mouth, watching as the white substance trickles down your throat until you ultimately swallow. He chuckles darkly. “My good girl. I’ll fuck you till the next day and however I want because you’re mine. No one else.”  

“I’m yours,” You affirm, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I’m always going to be yours, Jeon Jungkook.”  

As promised Jungkook ruined and fucked you until the next day, leaving his marks all over your body – from hickeys to his handprints on your red swollen ass. He filled you with his cum repeatedly, not caring about your pleas to stop because you were already exhausted and overstimulated. But then he’d mock you that if you really wanted him to stop – your pussy wouldn’t have clenched around his thick cock as he pounded into you for the nth time, nor your swollen clit would still be throbbing.  

Jungkook fucked you in the shower, on the bed, by the balcony of his high-rise condo unit, on his couch, and back to bed where some time in four am, Jungkook finally stopped and fell asleep beside you. When you wake up, he’s still there, sleeping so angelic like he didn’t just say the most diabolical things to you while he came in your over and over again.  

You know this is wrong and you should leave before he wakes up and form all the right words to persuade you to stay with him again. But you stay anyway. For the first time in a month, the emptiness isn’t there. You know being with Jungkook is toxic and sooner or later, another fight will ensue, and the cycle will continue – but you don’t care because you know deep in your heart that you’d rather have the pain he brings in your life than feel absolutely nothing at all.  

ANDI: I do not condone relationships such as this one. This is only a depiction of a toxic relationship loosely based on a personal experience. This does not represent who Jungkook is in real life, so please do not relate this character to him any way, shape, or form. Fanfiction is just fanfiction.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © ANDI-KOOK 2024. NO PART OF THIS STORY MAY BE REPRODUCES, TRANSLATED, MODIFIED, EDITED, REPOSTED AND THE LIKES WITHOUT THE AUTHOR’S PERMISSION.

#yandere jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook ff #jungkook au #yandere bts #bts smut #bts fic #bts fanfic #bts angst #bts ff #jungkook scenarios #jungkook drabbles #bts scenarios #bts drabbles #andi.writes 💭

[buckttommy]

7b theories.

god this was emotionally exhausting.

Okay I'm going to break this up into two parts: Part One (Bobby and Athena), Part Two (Buck and Eddie)

Part 1 (Bobby and Athena)

Bobby's had an axe hanging over his head all season. I was too caught up in the BuckTommy euphoria to notice it. But rewatching the cruise ship arc in light of the final episode titles being revealed—especially the scene where Bobby and Athena think they're about to die in 7x02 with the flashbacks to his (and Athena's) time in therapy—it's just like...

Season 1 beginning with Bobby's need to atone for the lives lost in the apartment fire.

Bobby's arc beginning (?) in Season 7, "Ghost of a Second Chance" and carrying through to the rest of the season, including Step Nine (which, in AA, is the step about making amends for harm done)

Bobby telling Frank he proposed to Athena after recently moving to Minnesota after suffering a "loss" (he doesn't expand on it; great job being honest with your therapist, Bob)

"Athena. I am so sorry." "You have nothing to apologize for." "You didn't want to come on this damn cruise. I made you. What the hell was I thinking to deserve a second chance like this?"

Athena saying she was worried she didn't know how to be with Bobby and who they were without the "noise" of their lives.

Athena saying she has "lots to say but not enough time" and we haven't circled back to that.

Bobby's big rescue in 7x03, how he was fully in Fireman Mode, which was awesome but it also showed how capable he is, how much he fucking loves and is good at this.

"I wish Buck could have seen you do that." "Honestly? I would've much rather seen Buck do that" > Bobby feeling the age of the job on his body but still enjoying it. Knowing he's getting older but not wanting to be pulled away from it involuntarily necessarily

Season 4 Redux, yes, but one of the core facets of Season 4 was Bobby and Athena's conversation surrounding retirement as the result of (Athena's) on the job injury...

Hen being the go-to interim Captain when Bobby is absent/out-of-commission for whatever reason + Bobby referring to her as "Captain."

All of Hen's big stories always seem to center around either her family or her career. She just recently fostered a little girl, which means that any advancements to her story are going to be with her career. If Bobby is out of commission, perhaps permanently, Hen is looking at a promotion.

Bobby saying the only difference between him and the drunk driver from the pileup in Season 4 is "one bad day."

So my theory, now that I've moved past the hysteria of Bobby potentially dying, is:

Bobby saves either the members of the 118 (his family) from a fire + severe peril OR he saves the man from his past (whose loved ones died in the apartment fire, and who was unwilling to forgive Bobby previously) → In doing so, he injures himself → Season 7 ends on a cliffhanger with the audience thinking Bobby is dead → Major Character Injury forces Bobby to retire → Season 8, Bobby and Athena really have to sit with who they are outside of the "noise" of their lives once that noise has been reduced and no longer has any hope of being turned back up → Hen becomes Captain → Tommy/Ravi/someone else fills her spot → Paramedic Buck? (He has no interest in leaving the 118, but twice in two seasons, the idea of Buck changning his position within the 118 has been floated. Seems like a career switch is on the horizon)

#fu cking christ. #i need to go to bed. #jack.txt #tv: 911 #7b speculation #8a speculation #8b speculation

[ineedtopost]

Paolo stories and rumors and their sources

Ok, so in the last 23 days i've been talking to @nate-acmilan a lot and he really likes having sources for everything I tell him about Maldini. This has led me to two things, one, that others most likely want the sources to these stories, and two, I have found many sources for these things because of it. Also i've found a lot of random things too:

Rumors (Fully sourced)

So the first story I have a source for is Maradona saying that Paolo is too pretty to play football, which i'm pretty sure everyone has heard at some point. So basically I had another source for this, which is this one: https://arcobaleno2006.wordpress.com/2005/02/23/made-in-milan/

But then just before I posted this Nate sent a better one which is funnier and from a few years before: http://news.bbc.co.uk/sport1/hi/football/988261.stm

2. Ok so this one isn't really a rumor or story but basically I am just going to assume everybody is curious about a source for Paolo liking coca-cola, so besides the pictures with him always having it I also have a source, which is just the magazine I got, because the others are taking super long to get here:

Though, there was another source for this but I don't remember, but it was among the ones for this list anyway. But his liking of cola is mentioned sometimes at random when people talk about him.

3. I think that everybody has different interpretations of what happened at his first training session, but what I originally heard was that Cesare just left him there and came back later, which is true. Also, he wasn't there for Paolo's debut match either, though to be fair it wasn't known it was going to be his debut. This source has both of those:

4. I don't know if this is known a lot or not but Paolo didn't graduate high school, he only got up to a middle school diploma. But I knew this, and of course was asked for a source, so here it is:

5. Also, I don't know if everyone has heard of this but I'm assuming some of you have, and it's Paolo liking Silence of the Lambs. Some sources say it's his favorite, some not, but I think this is where that idea originally comes from:

Semi-Sourced

For this section I have one thing so I won't be numbering it, but basically I have heard that Armani wanted Paolo to Model for him, at some point in the 90's. And I always thought that this took place in the late 90's, but actually it was apparently in 1994 when he said this, according to this:

However I have nothing else to go off of for this, so it's still semi-true because I haven't seen a direct quote from Armani.

Tid-Bits

Ok, so this section is just random things I found in my research and one of them is that, at least back in the day, Paolo walked on his tippytoes when he wasn't wearing shoes. It comes from a book where the author interviewed Paolo himself, and Adriana and Billy and Cesare and Ambrosini and Ancelotti etc., so I believe it to be true:

You can just download it from there for free. That in particular is on page 177-178.

2. This is something else that comes from that book, which is that as a kid his mom made him do gymnastics and guitar. This is from page 25.

3. Last, I know that Paolo used to have a website but I don't think any of us have actually seen it. But I found an archived version of it recently:

Ok so that's it. I don't know if there is anything else I forgot, but obviously if you want to ask about any stories or rumors do it because I might have sources for that as well. And no, @kvaradonaa, I still have not found the source for Paolo and Sheva sleeping in the same bed, which I know is devastating but I haven't seen anything about it since that one time. So yeah, but I also did this because no gatekeeping and also because those new magazines are taking forever to get here and I am bored.

#paolo maldini #no more gatekeeping #I have found many sources #because some days ive spent way too long on google #and i feel bad about just keeping them between like 2 people #so here you are

[five-and-dimes]

Your Eyes Slay Me Suddenly

Finally get to share my fic for the Spring Exchange! I got assigned @im-not-corrupted, and it's my first time writing a knight au, but I'm really happy with how t turned out, so I hope you like it too! <3

AO3

If you had asked Sir Robert Gadling just a few years ago, he would have told you that he had no plans of settling in any kingdom. Ever since the loss of his dear Eleanor, he had found himself most content in traveling. A sword for hire making his way through the lands, throwing himself into new adventures before inevitably moving on. He escorted nobles and adventurers, he protected priceless treasures, he fought in tournaments for gold and glory, and then he carried on. Each new place brought their own unique experiences and joys, but none so great as to convince him to stay. 

Then he entered the kingdom of the Endless.

He had heard rumors of the turmoil the kingdom had gone through in recent times. One of their main allies and trade partners had been brought low by their king’s death and near fatal wounding of the only prince, leaving the prince’s consort to struggle to hold the land together. The loss of protection and major imports left the Endless kingdom vulnerable, and they fell into a period of famine and darkness. However, a few years later saw one of the princes staging a coup, exiling the king and queen as well as a few other members of the royal family, taking the throne for himself. 

And King Morpheus brought the realm back to prosperity.

Hob found the land intriguing in a way he hadn’t experienced before. The landscape was lush and vibrant, the kingdom built within the forest as opposed to clearing it away, and even the homes of the lower class were adorned with intricate artwork carved into the door and window frames. When he made his way into a boisterous tavern, he was greeted as though he was coming home, not a newcomer. As the ale flowed, he had tried to learn more about the history of the realm, especially the years when the crown had been taken. What he learned was that, for all the drama that a grab for power like that must have been, to those outside the palace, it had all been very quiet.

“Went to bed one night the same as ever. Next day we woke up, and there was an assembly being called,” An older man explained, leaning heavily on the table, “Standing on the balcony like some angel of death, there was King Morpheus, wearing the crown.” He shook his head, lost in the memory of his astonishment, “The King and Queen have so many kids I never could keep track of ‘em. But I coulda sworn that one was dead,” he shrugged, taking another long swig of his ale, “Guess I was wrong.”

Curiosity thoroughly piqued, Hob was more eager than ever to join an upcoming tournament. As always he enjoyed buddying up with the kingdom’s knights, sharing tales of his travels, learning more about the land he was visiting, placing bets and engaging in friendly banter. He was excited to join the festivities, and to get a closer look at the mysterious king.

As he entered the arena, looking up to the stands, he understood why his drinking companion had called the king an angel. King Morpheus was a spot of darkness amongst the colors of the crowd. The royals and advisors sitting beside him wore rich, deep colored fabrics that shone in the sunlight, but the king himself was garbed all in black. His robes flowed around him, draping over his form and concealing his figure. His collar was buttoned up his neck all the way to his chin, and gloves covered his hands where they lay primly in his lap. Long black hair was braided elegantly and made his face look even paler, as though he had never seen the sun before. The gold circlet with ruby accents on his head was the only color Hob could make out on his figure.

He was beautiful. 

Hob was never one to deny his ego, and he always aimed to impress when he competed, but on this day he forgot about the crowd. There was only one person he hoped to impress with each swing of his weapon or shot of his bow. The days of the tournament passed, and he couldn’t help but glance up up up to the King after each success, hoping desperately to be noticed. And his pride clearly paid off, because when the tournament ended, as Hob collected his winnings and made his way towards the feast, he was approached by an elegant figure. Her waistcoat was perfectly tailored and a deep purple which made her dark skin seem to glow. But her poise and demeanor gave away her station far more than the richness of her clothing. Delicate spectacles sat on the bridge of her nose, and her posture was proud and sure, looking down on Hob without seeming to look down on him.

“You performed very admirably, Sir…” she stated, raising an eyebrow in question.

“Robert Gadling,” he bowed in greeting, grinning.

“You are new to these parts, yes?”

“Aye, I am a traveler.”

“Just passing through, then?”

“Unless I am given a reason to stay.”

She gave him a reason.

The King had in fact noticed him, had been pleased by his performance, and was looking to grow the order of knights protecting the castle grounds. Though a few years had passed, he was still new enough to the throne to be vulnerable to attempts to usurp him. And he wanted Hob to join. Hob had no intention of turning down an opportunity to be closer to the dark shadow of a king.

It did not occur to him until much later that he hadn’t even needed to think about it before deciding to settle here, in the Endless Kingdom. He moved onto the castle grounds, and he kneeled before King Morpheus and swore an oath, and the king looked down at him with glittering eyes. Hob felt like a madman for all the things he wanted, but he felt a little less mad when, before the season even had a chance to change, he was selected as the King’s personal guard.

“If I may ask,” Hob could not help but inquire, standing watch as the King worked in his study, “Why me? There must be knights whom you are more familiar with.” He was one of the newest in the order, and yet it was he who stood at the king’s side.

The King barely glanced at him, continuing his elegant penmanship, “I am interested.” 

“In me?” Hob felt his traitorous heart flutter.

Here, King Morpheus did look at him, something sly and mischievous in his eyes, “In your experience.” Slowly and deliberately, he put his quill down, leaning back in his seat and folding his hands in his lap, “Tell me, sir Gadling,” Hob shivered every time he heard his name on those lips, “of your travels. Tell me of your life.”

And, well. Hob would never deny a command from his king. 

Although he would not deny… editing, occasionally. Never lying, of course, he wouldn’t dare. But he saw no harm in skipping the less flattering parts- the years lost to drinking his grief away, the times he tripped over his own feet learning to charge in heavy armor- and only slightly embellishing his victories. Morpheus always listened with rapt attention, as though Hob’s tales were the most interesting things he had ever heard. Perhaps, Hob considered, they were.

“It seems you have always been a capable warrior, Sir Gadling,” Morpheus smiled as he delicately ate his breakfast, Hob leaning against the wall beside him as he finished the most recent recounting of his exploits.

“Had to learn fast,” he grinned, “Some of us have to get roughed up if we want to keep you royals so soft and pretty.”

At first, he thinks he has said something wrong, because Morpheus’ head snaps up to look at him, eyes sharp and calculating. But a moment later, his body softens, like an exhale, and there is a pleased smile on his face, and Hob knows that he has said something right.

“I do not remember that part of your oath,” he says teasingly, “a vow to keep me soft and pretty.”

“It was unspoken,” Hob replies immediately, “Took one look at you and knew a delicate thing like you needed a skilled sword and shield at your side.”

“And it seems I chose well,” he sits up a little straighter, almost preening, “I trust a knight of your strength and… stature,” Hob felt his cheeks warm as Morpheus blatantly looked him up and down, “will have no trouble protecting my integrity.”

“With my life, my lord,” he gives a half bow, and when their eyes meet he is certain that something is there.

It became a regular part of their time together, after that. Time passes with Hob telling his stories, and Morpheus fluttering his eyelashes at what a rough and adventurous life he’s led, and Hob gently teasing about the soft and cushioned life he’s led. The contrast between them was exhilarating, and each time the king leaned into it was a bolt of excitement to Hob’s bloodstream. If Hob had his way, King Morpheus would never have to lift a finger. As he accompanied him through the castle, from his chambers to the throne room to the dining hall and back again, he opened every door for him with a deep bow. He would lift the king’s fork to his lips if allowed. 

Morpheus does not seem to mind. For all that he is known as a stoic and cold king to those outside of the palace, each day Hob sees his little smiles, and the laughter in his eyes as Hob bends over backwards for him. 

On this day, Hob thinks he might be the first knight tasked to pick blackberries for his king. Morpheus sits on a stone bench in the shade of the garden as Hob diligently fills a bowl with the ripe fruit, occasionally glancing back to see Morpheus’ warm, amused smile.

“It would be a shame to stain such finary,” he had claimed, eyes crinkling slightly in restrained mirth, turning to show off the glimmer within the fabric of his clothes.

“Oh of course,” Hob teased in return, “We wouldn’t want our precious king to get his hands dirty.” He bowed, taking the king’s gloved hand to kiss his knuckles. His skin was covered by such fine leather, he could only imagine how butter soft the skin beneath it must be. 

King Morpheus smirked down at him, “You earn your keep well, my knight.”

“Anything to be kept by you,” he winked.

The only response is a silent huff of laughter, but Hob cherishes it all the same. As he stands, he holds a berry out between his fingers, “Perhaps you should test them. Make sure they are up to your standards.”

His eyelashes flutter, a coy smile on his lips as he leans forward, and Hob may have started it but he was unprepared for the feeling of his king’s mouth wrapping around his fingers, plucking the fruit from his hand before pulling back with a soft swipe of his tongue. Hob feels himself shudder as Morpheus hums in pleasure.

“Yes,” he purrs, “delightful.”

“Is that so?” Hob feels his heart beating wildly in his chest, but he feels confident and daring as he leans in closer, “Perhaps I should get a taste myself.” He thinks that no fruit on earth would compare to being able to lick the taste from Morpheus’ lips.

But he will never know if he is right. Before he has a chance, he lays his hand on Morpheus’ waist, only to have his wrist gripped tightly and torn away.

“Do not-” The hissed words are cut off so abruptly that Hob can hear the click of Morpheus’ teeth as his mouth snaps shut. His eyes are steely, stepping back to put himself out of Hob’s reach. It is so far and away from any interaction they have had before that Hob feels as though he has whiplash.

There is a moment's pause where Morpheus seems to be waiting for him to speak, and it is only then that Hob remembers their respective ranks, “I apologize, my liege,” he bows deeply, the formality feeling wrong. This is not who they are to each other. Or so he thought.

He glances up just in time to catch the way Morpheus’ throat bobs as he swallows thickly, “I have been away from my work long enough. Deliver what you have harvested to the kitchens and then rejoin me in my study.” He leaves no room for a response, turning on his heels and stalking away, heedless of the fact that they are not meant to be separated this way. Hob’s job is to watch over him. But, after watching his king’s back disappear back into the castle, he does as he is told.

His thoughts are a storm as he passes the fruit off to the kitchen staff, dragging his feet to delay his return to Morpheus’ side. King Morpheus has always been vocal about fighting tradition- about making a better realm, even if it meant going against the “old ways”- and Hob had, foolishly perhaps, assumed that meant that Morpheus would not be against marrying outside his station.

Apparently he was wrong.

Arriving outside the study door, Hob feels his heart burn. With rejection, yes, and grief, certainly, but also with anger. Anger at the king’s hypocrisy, his arrogance and conceit, to think so lowly of Hob as to toy with his feelings and then snub his touch. As though Hob’s hands would somehow taint his royal figure. 

Well, Hob refused to be ashamed. He was proud of his rank and status, he was proud of his life, and no man or king would make him feel lesser. So when he walked into the room, he held his head high, and kept his eyes cold.

Morpheus glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, but did not say anything.

The weeks following are tense. At first, Morpheus seemed to try to restart their flirtatious banter, but Hob refused to engage. He was not a toy for the king to play with as he pleased and then shove away when he got too bold. In another kingdom, Hob thinks he might have been executed for the glare he sent the lord’s way. But Morpheus only sighed and looked away, and eventually stopped trying. Their days were now filled with tense silences as they walked together.

Hob is seriously considering leaving Morpheus’ order to continue his travels on the day the assassination attempt happens. He is overseeing a trial between two nobles, something about one of them infringing on the other's land, Hob hadn’t really been paying attention. In hindsight, the two seem more amicable with each other than one would expect for a dispute to reach the point of coming before the king, but at the time Hob had just been grateful that it was a quiet day. 

“My King, I have some evidence that I believe may sway you in my favor,” one of them announced. 

Morpheus, with varying success, did try to keep from being too far above his people. As such, it was not unusual for him to stand and approach the noble when he gestured him forward, presumably to show or explain something to win his case. Hob, as usual, is only a step behind him. It is because of that that he catches the glint of metal in the noble’s hand within his robe.

With a wordless cry, Hob lunges forward, shoving Morpheus roughly to the ground to step in front of him. There is a loud clang as the noble’s dagger connects with Hob’s gauntlet. His eyes are wide at Hob’s speed, and he has no time to react before Hob’s fist makes contact with his nose, blood spraying as he collapses. Around them, the rest of the knights in the room rush into action, restraining both nobles and sweeping the room for any hidden danger. 

With the threat so swiftly taken care of, Hob is free to look down at where the king was sprawled, dark fabric pooling around him as he pushes himself up, dark hair concealing half his face. They look at each other, the adrenalin of the moment still rushing through both of them. 

“Are you alright, my liege?” Hob asks softly, holding a hand out.

Morpheus nods slowly, taking his hand and allowing Hob to pull him to his feet, “I am. Thanks to you.�� 

As they stand, hands still clasped for a moment longer than necessary, Hob realizes that he has missed Morpheus. Perhaps he cannot have everything that he wants so desperately. But if this is all he can have, well. At least he can have this. 

“Of course,” he smirks, “I did swear to keep you soft and pretty, remember?” 

He means it as an olive branch, a remembered joke between them to show that they can still be more than simply knight and king, even if they cannot be more. He does not mean to make Morpheus’ eyes fill with tears.

“Yes,” his voice cracks, “Of course.” 

Hob is not given a chance to respond- not that he knows how to respond at all- before the king is turning away, calling for his advisor, Lady Lucienne, the one who had first approached Hob about his position within the court. The two convene quietly for a moment before Morpheus orders the knights present, including Hob, to take the two traitors away to be questioned and search the grounds for any other suspects. 

It feels wrong to leave the king’s side. Hob feels a desperate need to watch over him, to keep him safe and protected, to wipe away the tears that look so perilously close to falling. But he has been given his orders, and the king and lady are already moving to sequester themselves somewhere private to discuss what to do with the situation. So, with one last look back, he goes to fulfill his duty.

Hours later, when the palace is confidently secure and the traitors are under lock and key, Hob feels no less anxious to be at his king’s side. He was told to return to his own quarters, to rest for the night, and he did try at first, setting his armor aside and laying in bed to try to calm the burning in his heart. But there is no rest to be found here, and soon he finds himself walking purposefully through the halls in his casual clothing, a decision he only regrets when he finds himself faced unexpectedly with the king’s advisor.

Lady Lucienne is exiting the room just as he approaches the king’s chambers. Still half in the doorway, she raises an eyebrow at the clearly off-duty knight before her, and Hob freezes, feeling like a child caught stealing sweets.

“Sir Gadling,” she greets cooly, “I did not expect to see you so late. I thought you were resting,” she raised an eyebrow at him pointedly.

“Yes, m’lady,” he bows his head, but tries to continue awkwardly, “I simply could not rest, and wished to check to ensure the king was well after the attack today.”

“He is well,” she answers shortly, “so you may-“

“Lucienne,” a deep voice calls out from within the room, “he may enter.”

Frowning, Lucienne gives Hob a quick narrow-eyed look before re-entering the room, closing the door behind her and leaving the knight alone in the hallway. He waits awkwardly as a hushed conversation happens behind the door. Finally, Lucienne emerges once more, still eying him warily, but opening the door wider to allow him entry into the king’s chamber. As he enters, he is surprised when she exits, closing the door again to leave him alone in the room with Morpheus.

The room is grand, as expected for a king, and Morpheus sits primly on the edge of the large, ornate bed in the center. He is no longer wearing the extravagant, heavy garb that he dons in public. His current night robe, while as dark and elegant as all of his attire, is also thinner and more lightweight. It is also… revealing. The silky fabric contrasts sharply with his pale, nearly white skin, and for the first time, Hob is granted the sight of his king’s forearms, his neck, the jut of his collar bones, his calves. And with it, he is granted the sight of countless scars. 

Dark, rough scar tissue circles both his wrists like bracelets, a matching ring around his neck. There are some marks that Hob recognizes as blade wounds, and others that he thinks might be burns. They criss-cross over each other and dip below his robe, suggesting that what he is seeing is only a fraction of what exists. All of the marks look old. It does not make them look any less painful. 

Hob feels his mouth open, the breath rushing out of him as though he has been struck. He can tell, he knows, that the scars are old enough to have been made long before Hob ever met Morpheus. Still, he feels a strange sense of failure. As though it is his fault for not meeting Morpheus in time to protect him.

When he finally raises his gaze, he finds Morpheus looking at him, patiently waiting for Hob to finish his inspection. Hob opens his mouth, but cannot find any words that might soften whatever is happening right now.

Finally, Morpheus speaks, “Once, I was a prince. And now, I am a king.” His voice holds the gravity of an execution, and the sorrow of bowing his own neck beneath the blade, “But there was a time, in between, when I was neither.”

Hob takes another shaking step into the room. There is something dreamlike in the situation, an anticipation, a feeling of falling. “What do you mean?” he asks.

Morpheus turns his eyes forward to stare at one of the large landscape paintings he’d commissioned from a local artist, “I was sixteen when I was taken,” he states plainly, as though his words don’t gut Hob to the core, “It was… easy. For them to steal me away. Far too easy, even for an unloved spare like myself. As if it had been allowed.” He pauses, but keeps his face carefully smooth and neutral, “I still do not know for certain. Whether I was stolen or given away.” His next words are spoken more to himself than to Hob, “Perhaps it does not matter.”

Everything in Hob wants to move closer, to hold his king and shield him with his body, as though the past was an arrow aimed for his heart that Hob could stand in the way of. And yet, he feels frozen. Feet rooted to the ground by a pain so great even his strong and stoic king cannot keep it from his voice.

“When my blindfold was removed, I found myself brought before King Burgess.”

And now, Hob gasps, a too-loud inhale in the heavy tension of the room. Morpheus looks at him, his body stiff and his face still carefully empty.

Hob feels like he can’t breathe, “How…” his voice cracks desperately, “How long were you there?” He might be making a mistake by asking, by speaking at all during this tale, but he has to know. He has to.

“I was kept as a secret treasure for ten years,” Morpheus reveals bluntly. “I escaped my imprisonment roughly six years ago.”

The timeline stretches before Hob’s eyes, and he wants to weep.

“I was there,” Hob exhales in horror. Morpheus’ blinks, eyes blank and not understanding. “I… Ten years ago, I…” his throat feels like it is closing, but he forces the words out, “Burgess’ kingdom was one of the first I traveled to after I lost Eleanor. I was raised in the land neighboring it. I was there for nearly a year, drinking and fighting and participating in tournaments to distract myself from grief. I was offered a place in his court but I. Declined.” He takes half a step back, and then a full step forward when he sees the way the motion makes his king’s face fall. “I was right there,” he whispers.

“I doubt you could have done much,” Morpheus replied, turning his face to look at the wall again, “I was not flaunted before his people, or even the rest of his court. Only a select few knew of my presence beneath his castle. He…” his voice trailed off, and his eyes glimmered as tears began to well. But he stubbornly blinked them back, “It does not matter,” he says again, even softer. 

Hob wants to scream that it does matter, of course it matters. But his king looks so wounded right now, and it has nothing to do with the scars. So for now he waits, and lets Morpheus tell him no more than what he is ready to share.

“Eventually,” he continues, his voice steady once more, “the prince’s consort grew pitying. I am sure when he released me he expected me to simply run. But I had more than earned my right to vengeance.” His hands clenched into fists in his lap, “Burgess was almost too easy. He had grown old and careless. He was not so powerful as he thought himself when I was in chains. I spared his son the killing blow only out of gratitude to his consort.”

The stories of the fall of the Burgess Kingdom make much more sense now, with this information, and even the decline of the Endless kingdom who had for so long been allies with them. 

“It took me some time to return to my home kingdom. I was weak, and needed to heal and regain my strength. I also gathered allies. Lady Lucienne, Sir Matthew, among others. My family was not expecting my return, and so it was easy to claim the throne for myself. My parents I exiled, along with their supporters. My siblings I allowed the freedom to do as they wished. And what they wished was to leave.” 

A few of the king’s siblings had visited in Hob’s time at his side, but never for long. Hob ached at the pain he saw now. The pain of being abandoned so quickly after his return.

“And a few years later…” Morpheus’ gaze was heavy as he looked at Hob once more, “a traveling knight competed in a tournament, and caught my eye.”

Hob still remembers that day so vividly, the dark shadow of the king, the way he was too far for Hob to see his eyes and yet he fantasized about them looking at him. His heart swells in his chest to know that they were. And now he is here, stepping towards his king, his friend, the man he has stood beside for nearly two years now, and he cannot help but ask, “Why did you not tell me this before?”

When Morpheus sighs, it is heavy, and Hob thinks that a lesser man would have crumpled under the weight of the despair in that single breath.

“The parts of me that appeal to you…” he explains slowly, “being… soft. And pretty, and delicate, and pure…” he keeps his head high and shoulders back and it does not make him look any less ashamed, “they are all a fantasy. The reality is that I have long been. Damaged. And sullied.” Almost unconsciously, he brought one hand up to clutch at his robe, holding it closed just a little tighter, “Perhaps it was cruel of me to deceive you in such a way, but our games… brought me comfort. I could pretend, even if just for the briefest times, that it was true. That I was someone you could want.”

Eyes fluttering closed, he sighed, “I thought. If I could have nothing else. I could at least have that.”

His voice is so even, despite how soft it has grown, barely audible in the expansive room. He speaks as though reciting history- something that has already passed and cannot be altered. A tragedy that cannot be changed.

When Hob moves towards him, it is barely conscious. It is like floating down a river, like gravity, a force of nature that perhaps he could fight against if he wanted to. But he does not want to. And so he moves to his king and he kneels, and he did not know it was possible, but it feels even more right now than it has every time he has kneeled before. Morpheus looks at him, the slightest furrow in his brow, confused, surprised, strangely lost. Hob takes his hand, as he has countless times before, and for the first time feels the rough calluses on his fingers. He kisses his knuckles, and his lips brush his bare skin for the very first time. Morpheus gasps, silent, and Hob would have missed it had his eyes not been fixed on his king’s face. 

And then he continues. He brings his lips to the ring of scar tissue around his bony wrist, kissing first the outside, then the inside, leaning forward to continue kissing up his arm. There is a part of him that is appalled at his daring- this is his king, he has no right to take such liberties. But there is a much larger part that is desperate to prove him wrong. He has sworn an oath to protect this man. In this moment, he wants to protect him from his own expectations. 

And so he pushes himself up, still holding Morpheus’ hand as his lips trail over the landscape of texture across his skin. He kisses over the fabric of his robe, not pushing it aside, not asking Morpheus to reveal any more than he already has. He stands until he is, like blasphemy, looming over his king, leaning down to kiss along the rope of scarring along his neck. He feels, more than hears, the way Morpheus gasps as his lips caress his skin.

“No game could compare to the reality of you,” Hob breathes against his skin, letting his tongue lightly trace the texture of him, “You do not need to pretend that you are wanted.” Leaning back, he finds his king staring at him with wide, watery eyes, and Hob allows himself a moment to sweep his gaze down his figure in appreciation, “Look at you,” he whispers, “Look at how much you’ve survived.”

He brings his free hand up to cup Morpheus’ cheek, and his king still looks disbelieving, and so what can he do but lean in and kiss him. When their lips meet, it feels like the inevitability of dawn after a long dark night, like everything was meant to lead them here. They move their lips together slowly, softly, until the taste of salt blooms between them. Hob pulls back, and Morpheus drifts after him, tears streaming down his face. And for all that he has been through, he looks at Hob as though this, this love and wanting, is what will finally undo him.

“You’re so beautiful,” Hob kisses the tears from his cheeks, even as Morpheus shakes his head.

“I am not.” 

Hob tuts softly, “You are.” 

Feeling emboldened by his love, by a love he now understands is returned, he pushes gently at Morpheus’ shoulder, guiding him down to lay on the soft, rich fabric of his bed. Morpheus’ eyes are wide when he moves to straddle him, but he does not push him away. His hands hover over his hips hesitantly, and that is the moment Hob stops worrying about this being his king. Right now, this is just Morpheus, who has been torn apart, and pieced himself back together, and pushed Hob away because he was so certain he would not be wanted as he is. And Hob wants him, and so there is nothing more important than leaning down to kiss every inch of exposed skin.

“You are so strong,” Hob whispers, pressing his lips to the rough skin of his neck again, “but you have protected yourself for long enough. Let me, now.”

“Hob,” Morpheus’ voice is breathless, his hands finally come to clutch at his tunic, “I…”

“I have sworn an oath to you, my king,” he kisses the burns along his collar bones, “And I would swear another to you, my friend,” he kisses the raised scars on his chest, “and yet another for you, my love.” 

Slowly he kisses down to his stomach, where he feels Morpheus tense and shudder even through his robe. Morpheus is breathing heavily beneath him, gasps and sobs and moans as Hob touches him all over. He tugs at Hob’s tunic and Hob obliges, tugging it over his head and reveling in the way Morpheus stares up at him, his tears slowing and his throat bobbing as he swallows at the sight of Hob’s muscled chest, his body hair broken up by ropes of scars from his years of knighthood.

Hob takes Morpheus’ hand, calluses caressing calluses, and leans down to settle his weight on top of him. He pressed their chests together, pale and scarred against tan and scarred. “See?” Hob whispered against his ear, “We match.”

Morpheus’ breath hitches, and his hand clings tighter to Hob’s. He does not let go for the rest of the night, even after they have finished their gentle rutting and have both stained the insides of their clothes. He allows Hob to use his own shirt to clean them both, and to wipe his tears away, and to curl around him beneath the covers, but he does not let go. 

In the dark, Hob kisses each of his fingers, “Would that I could protect you from the things that have already happened,” he whispers, “But I swear to you, my beautiful Morpheus, that no new scars shall adorn your skin while I am here to prevent it.” 

He feels fresh tears fall against his skin, and he knows it will take time for Morpheus to truly believe his words. Hob will slowly reveal the parts of his past that he had edited out, and Morpheus will do the same, and eventually they will lay together with no fabric between them, and Morpheus will still cry at the kindness and the love and the want in Hob’s eyes, and that will be okay. For now, they sleep in the safety of each other's arms.

And in the morning, Hob will help Morpheus dress, kissing up his body as he buttons his robe until he is once more fully covered, kissing his lips as he fastens the last button.

#the sandman #dreamling #my writing #spring exchange #knight au

[jmdbjk]

Come Back to Me.

As the first scene opened, my very initial reaction/feeling was overwhelming relief. Is that a weird feeling to feel first thing? With all that's happened these past few weeks, this seemed like this is finally a tangible thing to fight back with. I don't know if that makes logical sense but I guess I have been angry and frustrated and feeling helpless.

The party scene that opens the MV and which he returns to toward the end, perhaps this symbolizes his chosen career/life? At the beginning, he's tired and over it... "leave me alone, I need to step away." So he gets up off the couch. Yet the lyric says "I told you I'm fine, staying good..." (He has told us several times after Festa 2022 that he's fine, he's good.)

He stares (with longing?) at the mysterious door with three little glass windows.

"Spring's always been here." I know the lyric on the MV says Spring, but he clearly says "spring's always been here."

Then he is interrupted again so he strides away from the party and suddenly he's in his bathroom with his little family who are brushing their teeth.

The ideal scenario. Nice, perfect little smiling family, perfect little home.

The door to the bathroom has four little windows on it...

His little girl (Namjoon is a girl-dad) pulls him into the bathroom to join her and her mom. He is confused.

Lyric: "I forgot to shower, 세수할 시간도 아까워 or sesuhal sigando ahkkawuh" and translates to "even washing my face feels like a waste of time." He made the Korean lyric rhyme with the preceding English lyric.

Why just this line in Korean? The concept of "face" has a specific cultural meaning in Asia which includes Korea (but is not limited to this). Everyone's heard of "saving face", to save your honor or protect from humiliation. Its more than just a sense of honor though. There is much more to it, if you want to read something, here is one article that attempts to explain the cultural significance of it.

In the context of these lyrics, I think he means, as a Korean, he thinks keeping his face clean is a waste of time.

If we were to think of it as his attempt to keep his idol image clean, to be the kind of person everyone thinks he is, to uphold the honor of everything that some want to put on him and make him represent... that's gotta be a huge amount of pressure and its a waste of time for him to try to be the perfect man in his perfect home with his perfect family. Because he's not perfect. "You don't have to be the anything you see....Trying not to be that something in this sea."

As we've seen recently, what a challenge it would be to constantly be trying to uphold such a perfect image in the midst of so much shit being thrown from all directions from multiple entities.

Moving on.

He goes through another door and has to duck because something is being thrown at him.

The imperfect relationship. Conflict, anger, a lot of turmoil. The room is a total wreck. He attempts to diffuse the situation but she's mad, accusatory. The lyric he's singing: "I told you I'm fine tonight, staying good." Obviously not. She is dressed in some sort of cocktail dress, a little bit of glamour within this chaos.

Interestingly, the walls throughout this MV usually have some sort of box-like shapes embellishing them. Or the furniture is angular/rectangular. The wallpaper in this room looks like a maze. Each of these rooms could be considered a box.

They struggle, she grabs a lamp. He runs. The door to that room has no little round windows on it.

The hallway he walks down is lined with doors, some open, some closed, some with little round windows in them, some without.

He goes into an open door and then immediately comes back out, the woman in the previous room following, trying to pull him back in. What does she represent? Personal relationships? The aspects of his life that are tempting but toxic?

He tries to open the door with three windows. He cannot. It is locked to him. He keeps running and finds himself suddenly in a baby crib?! The wood bars resemble a jail cell.

What's up with the orange on his pillow? Oranges are given as gifts in Korea for good luck. The parents peering over the top of the crib entice him to come to them.

"You are my pain, divine, divine, get, get, get to the divine, divine, so fine." This part has stumped me. He's being treated like a baby, or he feels like a baby. Parents looking down at their baby boy... he is unfazed at their adulation... he covers himself with a blanket to shield himself from their attention, they are disappointed and leave him be by walking away... the lyrics: "You are my pain divine, divine, get, get, get to the divine, divine, so fine." Could it be the celebrity life he leads, the perception he's young and naive, a baby? Trapped in a box, not able to get out on his own terms? Endure the pain of it all in order to get to the divine of it all? I don't know.

When he uncovers himself, the blanket has turned into a big leaf from a houseplant, and. he's in a nice room which resembles his real home.

A different woman enters the room, seemingly searching for something. She's dressed in a drab looking dress.

He contemplates her while she is still in the room.

She doesn't see what she's looking for and leaves the room hurriedly.

The lyric is a repeat of forgot to shower, waste of time washing my face.

He follows her.

She doesn't seem to be aware he is there. He senses her but just misses seeing her slip away.

And he seems to make a circle and ends up back in the room he just left. And he turns around, and comes face to face with himself.

"I told you I'm fine tonight, Spring's always been here, I will sleep in her eyes." The camera pans to his other self and back and he's turned into the woman who was searching for something. They found each other.

Who does she represent? His alter-ego? His life? The balance he's been searching for? Does she represent us? his fans? or maybe all the people who support him and he depends on. She represents his center, his stability?

When they find each other, they are happy. There is a beam of sunlight that quickly moves across the wall behind them when they go to sit on the couch. They don't sit close to each other. Very platonic. Does she represent happiness and comfort, his guiding light?

Once they connect, his smiles are so big, he's laughing, he's happy once again and he returns to all the other rooms happy, settled, content even.

Hard to see but the baby in the crib who represents RM, is holding up the orange to his mother.

"I see you come back to me, you are my pain divine. You are my pain divine, divine." The last sentence repeats over and over as he rises and sees the happy sunlight woman again, beckoning him to come to her and he nods as if he knows its time to go with her.

He goes to her. As soon as he enters that atrium where she is standing, the sun comes out and we see both of their clothing has changed, he in a hanbok-like outfit and she back in the dress we first saw her in. The outfits are made of similar material and they are both barefoot. I am sure being barefoot has some cultural connotation. Getting back to basics, to a natural state perhaps? Simplicity.

"You are my pain, divine, divine" keeps repeating and "I told you I'm fine tonight, staying good, Spring's always been here." He is reassuring, perhaps indicating he knew he had to take this journey of self-discovery, or self re-discovery knowing there were those who supported him, the Spring would always be there no matter how challenging it is.

She seems to ask if he's ready and he takes a deep breath and they both go through the door and the light becomes brilliant.

As the camera pulls back while they walk amongst the corridors, we see a vast maze of similar rooms.

Navigating life or a career can be like a maze. The future is unknown, no telling which room he will enter next. But he has his alter-ego, happiness, support, his light, accompanying him through the journey, through his pain, divine.

When it was over, I was a little emotional. The production was flawless, so many details I'm sure I missed dozens of them.

It wasn't until the second watch did I realize the song was all english except for the one line about washing his face.

Remember when Namjoon came on Weverse live and he told us about how he got the cut over his eye? Here is a great interview of the director of the MV, Lee Sungjin and he explains how it happened and the experience of working with RM.

Edit: I just realized the "party" room is the same room as the one that resembles his home.

#rm x come back to me #namjoon #bts chapter 2

[hyunsvngs]

You want to talk about jeongin that's one of my favourite subjects, I was the anon that was asking if you did requests because jeongin takes over my mind 24/7 so I'll share it here 😌

Recently I can't stop thinking about no matter what the boys are always going to look at jeongin like he's a baby but what of he gets a partner and he doesn't talk about what they do together, I feel like he's kinda private about that stuff at the beginning but certain things would happen or he'd do things not really thinking it's a big deal but the rest of the members brains are running a hundred miles a minute because no way there baby just did that like for example let's say there on tour and there picking up souvenirs for family and friends and jeongin see's sex chocolate and him and his partner have talk about trying it together and he hasn't seen them in months thinks it'd be a nice gift for when he gets back and he moves on and keeps looking at things but the members that are around him are mortified they can't believe he was so casual about it

Another situation I think about let's say there ordering food there just having a night in after there hectic schedules and jeongin offer's to pay for the food they don't complain it's free food so he pulls out his wallet to order the food with it but while doing so polaroid's fall out of it of him doing back shots some are his partner all fucked out with his cum on there chest maybe some degrading words are written across there body and he just picks it up and laughs a little and just says "sorry your weren't supposed to see that😊" and just continues to put the order in

A thing I think would really make it hit the members would be of they heard him have sex I don't think jeongin would purposely have it happen maybe he asks if he can just have the dorm for the night because he wants to have his partner in his space instead and the members understand and agree to spend the night at the other boy's dorm, later on into the evening one of them forget something dont think anything of it and head back to pick it up maybe even drop by a little convenient store to get some sweets to say sorry for intruding in on there little date, they punch the code into the keypad and right as they open the door there feet haven't even made it into the dorm yet and they just here jeongin fucking his partner within an inch of there life they can here him talk them through it, what he's gonna do if they dont start listening to him and the boys are devastated 😭 there baby how could he be doing all this and then pretending like nothing has changed, they definitely turn there asses around not even remembering what they even went back for and the walk to the other dorm was dead silent nobody wants to talk about it they couldn't even eat the sweet they bought

After this all happens Chan will try give him the birds and the bees talk and jeongin looks at him like 'bro it's a bit late for that😬'

That's all I've got for now but if I think of anything else I'll be sure to share it here 😌

I RLY LOVE THIS ACTUALLY LMFAOOOOO LIKE JEONGIN BEING SECRETIVE BUT ALSO… SO CASUAL ANOUT IT? I THINK THATS SOOO HIM

#juno’s asks ♡ #sweet baby anon #asks: innie

[multifandom-pleasures]

shadow x reader

you walked into shadow staring intently at the coffee machine set inside the kitchenette of robotnik’s ship. he’d been recently freed from his cryogenic chamber and was growing accustomed to the more modern life; considering the time he was last roaming was 50 odd so years ago; and figuring out the functions of everything onboard. he always bragged of his power and intelligence, so it was quite humorous to see him grumbling to himself as he attempted to figure out the little machine that sat atop the counter.

“ figured it out yet? “ you called to him from the doorframe, the only signal that he heard you was a small twitch from his ear. after a beat of silence he spoke.

“ how long have you stood there for. “

“ long enough. “ he seemed annoyed at that, shoulders hunching for a moment before he crossed his arms and turned to face you, his constant face of stoicism remaining.

“ I have not. “ he admitted, looking like the statement didn’t affect him - even though you knew he knew that you’d seen him glaring at the coffee machine. a smile twitched at the corner of your lip as you made your way over to him.

“ have you ever even had coffee? “ you asked as you slipped beside him to open up a cabinet, stretching for a mug that lay on the shelf.

“ no, but it’s tempted me. dr. robotnik - “ he paused and grimaced, “ gerald, my creator, would drink it often when doing tasks and experiments on the ark. he would not let me try it. “

“ what, he said no and you listened? “ you teased, and he frowned at you, looking somewhat sheepish. it was silly through other’s eyes, “ well, anyways, I’ll show you how it works. wanna try a flavor or just plain coffee? “

“ flavors? “ shadow seemed intrigued, watching as you pulled over a little pod carousel. you couldn’t help but laugh a bit at the way he peered over your shoulder to examine the selection, which caused him to promptly step aside.

“ yeah - there’s like.. caramel, vanilla, hazelnut, toffee nut, pumpkin spice.. and then just regular one without any flavor. robotnik likes that one. it’s gross. “ shadow gave you a pointed look and reached to nab a pod from the holder, giving it to you. you judged him silently for the selection, but obeyed and popped open the top.

“ you put this little pod in here, and then close it. “ you explained your actions as you did them, and then grabbed the mug to put into the slotted section in the machine, “ then, these buttons up top are for the size cup. always just pick the middle one, all our mugs are the same. “ you could feel the hedgehog’s body heat returning close beside you as he watched you, looking too intensely considering the fact it was just coffee, “ then, you press this big button and it’ll do the rest on its own. “

you stepped back as the machine began to make a subtle sound, and coffee began to drip into the cup. you looked over to shadow and smiled smugly.

“ can the ultimate life form handle that next time? “ he huffed at you, throwing a glare before his focus returned to the machine before you, watching the steady stream and the scent of roasted coffee beans beginning to fill the room.

“ and it stops on its own? “ you nod, and he looked slightly impressed. you both stood in somewhat comfortable silence as the machine worked, and as the final drips settled into the mug, you motioned for him to grab onto it.

“ it’s hot though, so careful - don’t burn yourself. “ shadow scoffed as his gloved hand reached for the ceramic.

“ I think I can manage it. “ he replied, bringing the mug up to his face in order to sniff, and when he seemed pleased at the aroma he sipped. you noticed his eye twitch slightly, and he turned away as he swallowed down the liquid. when he faced you again you held a smirk, raising a brow, “ shut up. “

you both moved to the little dining table - two chairs, one for each of you. there was never any need for more as it was only you and robotnik who ever used the kitchen. shadow had allowed his drink to cool down considerably before attempting another sip, and you watched as his eyes slid closed and a soft little hum rise from his throat. when he opened his eyes again, you gave him a smile.

“ like it? “

“ it’s.. pleasant. bitter but, not unbearably so. “ he replied, lifting the mug once more to drink from it. he nodded and sighed, “ yes, I like it. “ you gave a small, triumphed cheer as you rose from your seat.

“ great! now we can spend our morning making coffee together. “ you padded your way to make your own cup of coffee, unaware of the steely, red eyes following your movements, “ maybe I can get you to try the other flavors - they’re definitely better than just plain black y’know. and there’s soooo many.. “

too enraptured in your talking and moving, you didn’t catch the glimpse of a smile shadow wore, sitting patiently awaiting for you as he continued to sip from his mug.

#shadow x reader #shadow the hedgehog x reader #sonic the hedgehog #shadow the ultimate lifeform #sonic characters #sonic fandom #shadow the hedgehog

[laxmiree]

[CN] MLQC’s Lucien Wonderful Moments Date English Translation

⚠️ SPOILER ALERT!! ⚠️

This post contains a detailed spoiler for a date that has not been released in EN yet! Feel free to notify me if there are any mistakes in the translation~

Lucien boops Snowball's nose, his tone hinting at jealousy.

"You've been praising this little guy a lot."

"Pfft, is Professor Lucien jealous?"

Translation under the cut!

[Notes from Lux: Here’s the CN video link if anyone wants to follow along with his Voice Acting.]

A car moves slowly on the vibrant countryside road, joyful laughter spilling out of its windows from time to time.

Lucien casually rests his hand on the steering wheel, looking ahead, and quickly comes up with a Chinese idiom.

Lucien: The victory is in the bag. (shèng quàn zài wò)

MC: Idiom with wò… crouching tigers and hidden dragons! (wò hǔ cáng lóng! - 卧虎藏龙 - fig. mean talented individuals hiding their talent)

Lucien: Just a reminder to this beautiful contestant, this phrase was already said during our first round of the idiom chain game.

MC: Then, how about… I control my destiny! (wǒ mìng yóu wǒ - 我命由我- a phrase, not an idiom)

Lucien: [chuckles] That doesn't seem to be an idiom. Is Miss Producer starting to cheat?

Lucien tilts his head and looks at me with a smile. I sheepishly stick out my tongue, wracking my brain as I search through my vocabulary.

The gentle spring breeze seeps through the gaps of the car window. Looking at those cunning eyes, I have a sudden inspiration and break into a sweet smile.

MC: I like you~ (wǒ xǐhuān nǐ~)

Lucien's demeanor briefly halts for half a beat as though he doesn't expect my answer. But then, the smile on his lips grows bigger.

The warm afternoon sunshine reflects brightly in his upturned eyes, making them look particularly beautiful.

Lucien: [chuckles, then sighs] This is the most sophisticated cheating I've ever seen, so I concede defeat.

I cheer joyfully, but before I can utter a word, an electronic broadcast interrupts me.

"Distance to the next highway toll booth is 1.5 kilometers ahead.”

I glance at the phone screen and see it shows another hour and a half to the camping village.

Lucien suggested this camping trip to an ecologically pristine village with beautiful scenery, though the only downside is that the journey was a bit long.

I turn to look at Lucien, who appears to be in a good mood, and can't resist asking the small question that's been lingering on my mind.

MC: Lucien, what made you suddenly want to take me to this camping village?

Lucien: It was recommended by a colleague from the research center. I heard the scenery there is nice and worth a visit.

Lucien: I originally wanted to find an opportunity to spend time with you, and just last weekend we went to see a play, which gave me a very legitimate reason to invite you on a date—

Lucien: To create “beautiful moments”.

He deliberately emphasizes the words "beautiful moments", causing me to momentary pause as a recent memory quickly floods into my mind.

—[Flashback Start]—

At the entrance of the theater last weekend.

Lucien and I walked out of the theater hand in hand. I was still sniffling, lost in the storyline of the performance we just watched, unwilling to let it go.

Just as I was about to wipe away the tears at the corner of my eye, a warm hand handed me a tissue and gently dabbed it beneath my eyes.

Lucien: [gently] If this little audience member keeps crying, I'll have to go find the production team for an explanation.

MC: I'm just really moved by the play...

MC: At first, when I saw the protagonist growing up under the shadow of his mother's depression, I thought he would fall into despair.

MC: But he was able to diligently record the beautiful moments in life and ultimately salvaged himself...

MC: I just tried to put myself in his shoes, and it's really hard to be as optimistic as the protagonist, so I couldn't stop my tears.

Under Lucien's gentle gaze, I rambled on and on, completing my "review" of the play. He patiently wiped the corners of my eyes and offered a comforting smile.

Lucien: I actually think the lady by my side also has a pair of eyes that can discover the beauty of life everywhere.

His sincere praise caught me off guard, and I couldn't help but feel a little buoyed by it. My heart, which had been saddened by the protagonist's struggles, also eased a bit.

MC: If I had a "Book of Beautiful Moments," the first thing I would record is how Professor Lucien always generously praises me~

Lucien chuckled softly, and the strands of hair hanging over his forehead swayed gently in front of his thick lashes.

Lucien: [chuckles] I'm just stating facts. She shares the beauty of the sky with me and finds satisfaction in good weather...

Lucien: —Isn't that kind of you very much like the protagonist?

MC: Then next time I discover something beautiful, I'll make sure to record it promptly.

MC: Let's see if I can fill several volumes of "Wonderful Moments" just like the protagonist!

—[Flashback Ends]—

I casually remarked and thought it was nothing but a joke, yet Lucien silently remembered it in his heart. I come to my senses and blink.

MC: So, the reason you suddenly decided to take me out to play is to create more wonderful moments in my life?

Lucien: I wonder if it's because I'm not "competent" enough that you don't have much to record, so I deliberately created this opportunity.

Lucien: Of course, it's also to show myself off a bit.

He adopts a tone of pretended grievance that stirs a feeling of itchiness in my heart, I suppress the curve of my lips, nodding in mock annoyance.

MC: Well, in light of your "timely remedy," I'll reluctantly start recording officially!

✂———————–

MC: ...Lucien takes me camping;

MC: Before we set off, Lucien made me a cup of hot chocolate.

MC: While playing the idiom chain game, Lucien deliberately went easy on me...

As I speak, I open the Notes app on my phone and mutter to myself, recording a dozen or so entries. But as I continue to write, I suddenly feel something is amiss.

MC: Wait a minute, why do all these "wonderful moments" have Professor Lucien's shadow? I'm starting to suspect that I have a “love-brain”*...

[T/N: "恋爱脑" (love brain) is a Chinese internet buzzword that refers to a mindset that puts love first above everything. It refers to individuals who are deeply in love and often become consumed by their emotions, making it difficult for them to think about anything else. This phenomenon is characterized by extreme devotion to their lover, often leading to uncontrollable emotional dependence and intense desires to be with the other person... If anything, from the way Lucien takes her casual remarks seriously and uses them as a reason to hang out with her, this word describes Lucien more LOL]

Lucien: [with a pretending-don’t-to-know-anything tone] Oh, really?

Lucien is amused by my muttering, and a hint of sly self-satisfaction shines in his long and narrow eyes.

Lucien: [chuckles] It seems the Great Producer has already fallen into my sweet trap.

Lucien: Because my goal is to dominate your today's "wonderful moments" list through this trip.

MC: Hmph, then I won't let you succeed. Right now, I'm going to come up with something completely unrelated to you.

As I speak, I catch a glimpse of a white shadow flashing in front of the car. But before I can react, Lucien has already hit the brakes.

[Sounds of the car suddenly braking]

Almost simultaneously, a strong arm instinctively protects me in front of my chest.

Lucien: ...Are you okay?

He removes his sunglasses and swiftly scans me with his gaze as if confirming whether I'm injured.

I stare blankly ahead. After a moment of daze, there's no movement in front of the car, and my heart leaps into my throat.

MC: I, I'm okay...

MC: Lu, Lucien... Did something just rush onto the road?

Lucien: I'll go down and take a look first. Stay in the car and don't move.

He smooths out my disheveled bangs and then gets out of the car after turning on the hazard lights.

Through the windshield, I see him quickly walk to the front of the car. His gaze instantly shifts downward, as if he's spotted something, and he crouches down.

Did we really hit something?

Just as I nervously stretch my neck and am about to get out of the car to take a look, Lucien suddenly stands up, cradling a bundle of white fluff in his arms.

MC: Eh?

I take a closer look and can't help but exclaim in delight—

It's an adorable little Pomeranian!

Under my expectant gaze, Lucien quickly gets back into the car with the little Pomeranian in his arms, then raises the pup's paw and waves it at me.

MC: Hello there, cutie! How did you end up on the road?

Lucien: This little fellow must have gotten lost. I didn't see anyone else outside the car.

I follow Lucien's gaze out the window. The road is very quiet, there's no sign of anyone around.

MC: Is it injured?

Lucien: It wasn't hit just now. When I got out to check, it was still some distance from the front of the car. It's probably just a little startled.

As if understanding, the Pomeranian snuggles its face into Lucien's palm coquettishly. Its dewy eyes shift between Lucien and me, softening my heart.

I tentatively reach out my hand towards its nose, intending to let it get accustomed to my scent before attempting to pet its little head.

However, as soon as I reach out my hand, the little fellow enthusiastically licks my fingers. In the next moment, it leaps over the center console and goes straight into my arms.

MC: Wow, what a good little doggy!

MC: And it looks very clean, not like a stray dog... Could it be lost?

Lucien leans in and turns the collar of the small Pomeranian, discovering a small round tag. On it, it reads "Snowball*" and a string of numbers.

[T/N: the pet name, "雪糕" (xuě gāo), actually means "ice cream bar/popsicle"  LOL. I take some liberty in translating the pup name because “雪” (xuě) word alone means “snow” (while “糕” (gao) means cake). Imagine that this fluffy white bundle looks like a snowball so I give the pup that name :D]

MC: "Snowball"? Is that its name?

Lucien: Mm, below should be the owner's phone number. Let me try contacting them. Maybe the owner hasn't gone far.

Lucien takes out his phone as he speaks and quickly gets connected. After briefly explaining the situation, a wave of gratitude comes from the other end of the line.

??: Thank you so much! I stopped at the service area for a break and took the pup out of the car for a walk. I forgot to bring it back into the car.

??: I've already turned back onto the highway. I'll be there in about forty minutes!

??: Will it delay you?

Lucien doesn't respond, he just looks up at me and gestures with his eyes, as if asking for my opinion. I quickly nod in agreement.

[asking for opinion from the family leader.jpg]

Lucien: No, it won't. Then let's meet at the nearest gas station to the toll booth on the highway.

After a brief conversation, he hangs up the phone and shakes his head at me helplessly.

Lucien: [smiles helplessly] Looks like our journey might be delayed for a bit.

MC: What a careless owner! How could they forget such an adorable little dog?

I affectionately rub Snowball's head. It seems to whimper aggrievedly, then it straightens up, leans against me, and licks my cheek.

The adorable and silly look melts my heart once again. I exaggerate by placing my hand over my heart, then I scoop Snowball into my arms and give it a tight cuddle.

MC: Lucien, it's just too cute.

Upon seeing this, Lucien boops Snowball's nose, his tone hinting at jealousy.

Lucien: You've been praising this little guy since earlier until now for so many times.

MC: Pfft, is Professor Lucien feeling jealous?

Lucien: After all, I was the one who wanted to make a good impression today, but I didn’t expect to be outshone by this "little attention-seeker".

MC: I think, it's actually quite timely that Snowball showed up.

I mischievously wink at him and raise Snowball triumphantly.

MC: Just when I couldn't think of any beautiful moments unrelated to you.

MC: The appearance of this cute little fellow right now just fills that gap perfectly~

Lucien: Is that so?

Lucien presses his lips together thoughtfully, his clean fingertips lightly tapping on the steering wheel. He puts his sunglasses back on and, as if on a whim, starts the car again.

Lucien: Buckle up your seatbelt, let's go.

MC: Huh? Where are we going? Aren't we supposed to wait for Snowball's owner?

Lucien: MC's words just aroused my desire to win.

Lucien: In order not to lose to this little fellow, I have to put in some extra effort during these forty minutes of waiting.

Lucien: Before that, let's go find some more unexpected wonderful moments.

✂———————–

Ten minutes later, Lucien drives us to a countryside field.

The golden sunlight blankets the emerald green grass, while wisps of light mist hover amidst the sea of green.

Excitedly, I hop out of the car while holding Snowball, and find myself unable to tear my eyes away from the beautiful scenery for a moment.

MC: It's so beautiful! Lucien, how did you know there's a place like this nearby?

Lucien: We passed by here when Miss Producer was fully focused on playing the idiom chain game just now.

Lucien: The meeting point I arranged with Snowball's owner is very close to here, so it was convenient to stop by on the way.

MC: [sweats] What? During that intense idiom chain game just now, you still managed to notice the scenery on the sides of the road?

Upon hearing this, Lucien seriously crosses his arms, one hand supporting his chin as if deep in thought.

Lucien: Hmm, after all, even in such a tense moment, Miss Producer didn't forget to use "sweet words" to bribe her opponent.

MC: Pfft-

I can't help but laugh, but Snowball in my arms suddenly wriggles restlessly, as if trying to break free from my embrace.

MC: Do you want to go down and play?

I carefully place Snowball on the ground. It sniffs around with its tiny nose and then happily starts running around us.

MC: [laughs cheerfully] Hahaha, Snowball, you're so fearless, don't you?

MC: Even after such a day full of twists and turns, you can still play so happily!

Lucien: A puppy's mind is very simple.

Lucien: Perhaps in its eyes, it simply unexpectedly took a risk to venture into an unfamiliar place and met with a beautiful and empathetic Jiejie (big sister) who understands it well.

Lucien: And now, this Jiejie has brought it to a playground where it can run freely, so why can't it be happy?

MC: Oh, come on, it's definitely the credit of this reasonable and understanding handsome Gege (big brother).

I jokingly gesture with my hand, but as I watch Snowball's carefree figure, I can't help but ponder Lucien's words with a thoughtful expression.

MC: That being said, it seems like any simple thing can easily make a puppy happy.

MC: Whether it's the company of its owner, a friendly pat from a stranger, a passing butterfly, or even just a small treat...

MC: I often see videos of dogs being scolded by their owners. One moment, they're scared out of their wits…

MC: Then, the next moment, as soon as their owners call their names with a smile, they instantly become happy again.

MC: So, is life filled with beautiful moments everywhere in the eyes of a puppy?

As we talk, Snowball runs around a nearby grassy area and then returns to Lucien's feet, panting. It looks like it's tired from playing and eagerly starts pawing at his pants.

Lucien cooperatively lifts it, and it comfortably stretches lazily in his arms, then leans against his arm and rests.

Lucien pats its head, his expression somewhat resigned.

Lucien: I originally wanted to create a "wonderful moment" for MC, but it seems like Snowball is the one enjoying it more.

MC: Indeed, we should learn from puppies and embrace the spirit of enjoying every moment. I can't let Snowball beat me~

As I say this, I take a deep breath, and the fresh air instantly fills my heart.

MC: So pleasant... If it weren't for the tight schedule and better scenery waiting for us, I'd want to camp right here.

Lucien looks at me upon hearing this, seeming to contemplate something. After a moment, he gently places Snowball into my arms and gives me a mysterious wink.

Lucien: I've received the classmate's wish, please wait a moment.

He walks around to the back of the car, opens the trunk, and folds down all the rear seats, creating a spacious area.

[Lucien’s car being an SUV is really useful in times like this huh-]

Then, he hangs the small decorative lanterns that were initially used for the tent on the roof of the car. Finally, he shakes out a small thin blanket and spreads it on top.

After finishing all this, he bends slightly and makes a gentlemanly invitation gesture.

Lucien: Please, have a seat.

MC: This is...

Lucien: Our time is indeed limited, not enough to set up a proper tent.

Lucien: So we'll have to use this "temporary camping spot" instead, I hope you two* don’t disdain it.

[T/N: He actually uses 小朋友 (literally means: child) as the term of endearment to refer both of them (so the more literal translation should be “I hope the two children don’t disdain it”). I change it for an obvious reason here, but I swear it’s not as bad as the english language makes it to be-]

I stand still for a moment as his intention dawns on me. Pink bubbles seem to bubble up in my chest, making my heart move up and down in the ripples it causes.

I compliantly put on airs, playing along with his gesture as I cradle Snowball and settle into the car.

MC: Can you see a look of "disdain" on our faces?

I raise Snowball, showing a coy and obedient look at Lucien. Snowball, oblivious to the situation, cooperatively wags its tail and barks cheerfully at Lucien twice.

Lucien chuckles softly, then takes off his sunglasses with one hand, his gaze shifting between Snowball and me.

The vast expanse of clouds above his head begins to slowly drift away, revealing the warm and radiant sunshine.

His deep gaze is imbued by the golden sky, revealing a hint of childlike innocence and simple contentment.

Lucien: Indeed, I can't see it, because I can only see two adorable faces.

His doting tone is unreserved, and I satisfactorily squint my eyes, my heart full of joy.

MC: This one-of-a-kind camping area, with Professor Lucien's intention behind it, is priceless and worth more than any amount of money.

MC: I cherish it so much; how could I possibly disdain it?

Snowball seems to understand my words. With a "woof", he jumps down and happily rolls around on the blanket.

Both Lucien and I are amused by its adorable appearance. A gentle breeze blows by, and my entire heart feels light as if it's strolling in the clouds.

Our gazes lock into each other, and this tranquil moment is so beautiful that I truly want to record it in some way.

But I don't take out my phone to make a note. Instead, I instinctively reach out and gently pull Lucien to sit beside me.

The warmth beside me makes me unconsciously lean closer. I nuzzle his shoulder clingily, my heart filled with softness.

MC: Professor Lucien, you've succeeded.

MC: Now my mind is filled with countless wonderful moments, and each of these moments is related to you-

MC: Me leaning on your shoulder, your scent filling my senses, and us sharing this unexpected encounter of scenery together...

MC: And even if these moments aren't intentionally recorded by me, it's okay.

MC: Because every little thing that has been happening with you has already integrated into my world since a long time ago.

The breath above my head becomes even more gentle and elongated. Lucien enfolds me in his arms, his warm breath almost as if it's seeping into the depths of my heart.

Lucien: I am honored to be part of all the “wonderful moments” of Miss MC.

Lucien: As the sole recipient of this “award”, I will remain humble and continue to work hard, bringing her even more happiness.

I smile in his arms, but suddenly, I think of something and pull myself away from him a bit.

MC: But it's not fair, I've listed so many 'wonderful moments' of my own. How come you haven't shared a single one with me?

Lucien seems taken aback by my sudden mention of this. He is struck silent for a moment, then a flicker of wounded expression crosses his face.

Lucien: Perhaps because I thought even if I didn't say anything, MC would know what I’m thinking—

Lucien: My "list of wonderful moments" is very simple, so simple that it has only one item.

Lucien: Now, do you still need me to tell you this one and only item?

He stares steadily into my eyes, with an irreplaceable radiance that ebbs and flows in the depths of his gaze.

I softly laugh, and my entire heart feels as transparent and bright as if it has been meticulously polished.

MC: No need.

I shook my head, the stray hair on my forehead bringing a slightly unbearable itch, gently brushing against my heart along with the gentle spring breeze.

I gently cup his cheek in the palm of my hand, and the world becomes unusually quiet, only the sound of two hearts beating can be heard.

MC: You don't need to say anything.

Because in those beautiful eyes, I only see myself.

————Fin———–

[Bonus Phone Call - Want it Now]

Lucien: Hello? Are you busy?

MC: So, I was about to take a lunch break—I was just thinking about you, and then your call came.

Lucien: It seems like there's always some kind of wonderful little tacit understanding between us.

Lucien: Then tell me about it.

MC: Haha, here's the thing. The company's pet club is planning a charity event.

MC: They plan to sell some handmade items and donate the proceeds to animal shelters. But I don't have any inspiration for what to make at the moment...

Lucien: Mm... I just received a delivery that might be helpful to you.

Lucien: The owner of Snowball sent us some things as a thank you. There are small felt keychains shaped like Snowball, as well as cartoon-style standees and cross-stitch fridge magnets.

Lucien: Looking at the note in the delivery box, it seems that the owner of Snowball designed them personally and also has the same ones at home.

Lucien: Perhaps we can also make some similar small items.

MC: Wow! They actually make these for their pet? The owner of Snowball is so thoughtful.

Lucien: You can tell that Snowball is truly cherished, so its owner makes these everyday little things, wanting its presence to fill every corner of their home.

MC: Hmm... Just like how my phone screensaver is you, and all the photos hanging around the home are of you?

Lucien: If what you're saying is that feeling of 'even when you're not around, I still want to see you first thing’...

Lucien: Then we're the same.

MC: I have another idea, I wonder if Professor Lucien shares the same idea as me.

Lucien: Hm?

MC: Even though my screensaver and chat background are pictures of you... I still want to see you right now.

Lucien: What a coincidence, I was thinking the same thing. So I've already brought your favorite milk tea and the Snowball keychain, and I'm on my way to see you.

Lucien: I checked the navigation, and the route from the research institute to your company is very smooth.

Lucien: In twenty minutes, both of our wishes will come true.

#the most jelly man in the world fr #THE THEME OF ENJOYING THE PRESENT TO THE FULLEST FOR XM DATE IN THIS YEAR!!! #pg is trying to convince me that this guy is basically a puppy (and it works) #'my list is so simple that it has only one item' WHAT IF I SOB #it's bittersweet that she's basically the only thing that makes him perceives the world as beautiful though :“” #mlqc lucien #mr love queen's choice #mlqc cn #mlqc spoiler #mlqc #mlqc translation #mr. love queen's choice #mr love lucien #mlqc xu mo #mlqc spoilers

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for lottie behind the cut; a pocketful of Kons. ( chrono || non-chrono )

“Uh,” Tim says, staring at the Batcomputer’s main monitor and trying not to look freaked out. “Is that . . . ?” 

Stud scowls at the monitor and the picture of the man wearing a red cape and . . . most of Superman’s face displayed on it. 

Well. Some of Superman’s face, anyway. 

“No one knows who he is,” Bruce says. “He appeared three hours ago in Metropolis claiming to be Superman.” 

“The costume doesn’t match,” Dick says, glancing at Stud. “And, you know, the cyborg parts definitely don’t match.” 

“Pockets reflect the self-image of their owners,” Bruce reminds him neutrally. “Assistive devices and prosthetics don’t always translate. Especially newer ones.” 

Red looks unimpressed. Dick grimaces a little. 

“I mean, if he is Superman, they would be pretty recent . . .” he says, then trails off with another grimace. 

“I guess,” Tim says, trying not to grimace himself. “But he doesn’t have Laney, does he?” 

“Or a Robin,” Dick puts in. 

“We don’t know when he last slept or if he might be concealing a Pocket somewhere,” Bruce says, looking back to the screen. “And either way, more minor incidents than being beaten to death have damaged Pockets’ connections to their origin points and soulmates.” 

Tim really, really hopes Stud came from Supergirl. Even if she accidentally dated Lex Luthor for a while or whatever. That is just way, way preferable a thing to deal with right now. He doesn’t know who this cyborg version of Superman is, but the guy gives him the creeps. Like–just something about him looks wrong. 

Maybe he’s just being an asshole with unconscious biases and it’s all the prosthetics and machinery throwing him off, he half-hopes. It might just be that. He could get over that. Adjust. Work on himself a little and figure it out. 

He’s never felt unsettled like this looking at Cyborg, though, and he’s seen him plenty of times. He and Dick work together all the time. 

So it’s kind of hard to blame the prosthetics and machinery, considering. 

“Okay, fair,” Dick allows, wincing a little. “You really think he could hide a Pocket, though? It’s not like you can get that far from them.” 

“He has at least two limbs that are fully or almost fully prosthetic and half his torso and head are metal, and we have no idea what’s actually contained in any of those parts,” Tim points out, scanning the accompanying footage on the opposite side of the screen of the man in action. “He could hide a Pocket in a compartment built into his body no problem. Especially, uh–a smaller one.” 

Superman never hid Laney before, just dressed her up in a simple little costume of her own, but if this is Superman . . . well, dying can change a lot of things. 

But if Lois Lane hasn’t reported Smallville returning to the Justice League . . . 

Then again, they don’t know when she last slept either. Pockets only turn up when their owners sleep, one way or the other, and all of human history hasn’t managed to catch one appearing. Cameras short out or blip or just don’t record anything, witnesses get distracted or drift off, and nothing ever gets figured out. 

And a Pocket his size would be . . . well. Not that hard to conceal, probably. 

Tim can’t imagine a Pocket of himself wouldn’t understand that request, if whoever this is or isn’t made it of him. He’s very intimately familiar with the need for secrets. 

If this is his soulmate, though . . . 

He really doesn’t know what to think of that idea. 

“Two-day go-bags,” Bruce orders shortly, never taking his eyes off the footage on the screen. “Reconvene in twenty.” 

Tim glances at Dick; Dick glances back at him. 

“On it,” they both say, and take off. 

Neither bothers asking where they’re going. 

Stud flies after Tim, grumbling to himself in Pocket-talk, but Tim knows as much about what he’s saying as he does about where they’re all about to end up. 

.

.

.

Cassie stares down at her phone in confusion, and Cas peers at the screen from his seat on her shoulder. There’s a jerky, erratically-filmed livestream playing on it on her Twitter feed, and that’s . . . Superman? 

There’s footage of Superman on Twitter, she means. Live footage. He looks a little different–there’s black in his costume, and his hair is short and slicked back, and he’s wearing a visor–but he’s definitely Superman, big red cape and all. 

At least–she thinks he is. 

His face is kind of . . . 

There’s something . . . empty in his face. 

Cassie resists the weird urge to hide Cas from the sight of him, because–well, that’s him, isn’t it? That’s who he came from. The costume doesn’t exactly match, but it’s got black in it too, and they’ve both got the S-shield and cape. And . . . 

Well. It has to be him, doesn’t it? 

Who else could it be? 

The comments are all losing their minds about the footage, and Cassie feels uneasy watching it. The look on Superman’s face is just . . . it’s just really . . . 

She knew Superman was coming back, obviously. She’s got Cas, after all, so it’s not like it’s a surprise to see him. The only surprising thing is that Cas showed up before he did. 

So she doesn’t know why she feels . . . off, kind of, seeing Superman alive and well. She’d expect to be nervous or anxious, maybe, but not . . . 

She’s unsettled, she thinks. It’s–unsettled. 

Yeah. 

That’s . . . weird. 

Superman darts out of the camera’s view in a blur of speed, and Cassie hears something explode in the distance. Whoever’s recording shrieks, and so do a few people around them. 

Cas leans further over her shoulder with a frown. 

“Cassie?” a voice calls from downstairs, and Cassie instinctively bristles and tightens her grip on her phone. It’s her mom. “Diana’s back!” 

. . . fine. That’s–whatever. 

Fine.

#lottie #wip: a pocketful of kons

[nicosraf]

Hi Rafa!

Back again in your inbox and I have what’s probably a silly question but I am nothing but silly and goofy so I’ll ask anyway

I was thinking about yk the verious depictions of lucifer (as every sane and normal person does) and it got me wondering onwhat made you decide to characterise Lucifer the way you did, mainly because usually in modern media he’s very much seen as a anti-hero and mostly he’s seen as a good (-ish) guy that didn’t do too much wrong, the rebellion is usually very much written off as something akin to teenage rebellion and God is just seen as a disappointed parent that had no other choice but teach a lesson to his kids (and well that is of course because gods forbid someone sees God as anything less than the perfect father but I digress), for example the Lucifer series does this and in part too hazbin hotel.

And idk it was refreshing to see your read of Lucifer, he starts good and very much kidlike and then his wonder and love become corrupt I’d say, I struggle to call him evil because well for one I have what could be considered too much sympathy for him and I understand him, he was set up to fail in a lot of ways. So I guess I just wonder what made you say “no I’m going to keep the “bad” and “evil” that is in him”

(I am aware that the answer is probably just well he’s like that in most classical depictions but idk I want to hear you ramble about Luci and his development because that’s always interesting and I love it ajdhsh)

Sorry for the confused ramble anyway lots of love from Italy <3

-J :)

Hello! This is a dangerous question!! I have many many essays I'd love to write about the depiction of Lucifer in media and about what eventually led me to making Lucifer like that. It's also fresh in my mind right now because I saw that Lucifer Hazbin Hotel episode recently. (I actually don't have a ton of thoughts on Hazbin Lucifer. He is very cute, but Hazbin isn't trying to be theological I think; it's just having fun with the mythology.)

I would say that societal depictions of Lucifer always mirror a lot of the way that society has come to understand not the devil, but God, parent-child relationships, authority, tradition, and so on. Some people think Paradise Lost was the first to make Lucifer a hero, but it's actually very clear that Milton wanted his flaws to outweigh the good things, to make Satan ultimately a bad person, and to justify God's actions to us.

Like 200 years later, William Blake started saying that Paradise Lost was pro-Lucifer, though by accident: "Milton was of the Devil's party without knowing it." But Blake lives in a very different time, during the French and American revolutions and the industrial revolution. Old traditions and empire are getting shaken up, the story of Lucifer looks a lot more heroic.

I won't get too much into how Satanic panic affected things (or even the rise of anti-theist communist regimes!), though I think the Satanic panic of the 90s really exacerbated Lucifer's connection to teenage rebellion. (Also, I'm focusing on the US because of how much their media is exported and influences other countries).

But so then we got the modern Lucifer I used to see quite a bit — suave, night club owning, slutty, probably referenced bisexual, manipulator of women. I always thought this development was kind of strange. It's almost like what Blake did to Milton's Lucifer; we didn't change how the people before us thought of him, we just decided that the Lucifer we're supposed to hate is actually super cool.

But I was not super compelled by this Lucifer. And I reference these lines a lot, but the idea of Satan in Western Christianity came from several passages from the Bible, one of which is Ezekiel 28, and I was really struck with line 14: “You were blameless in your ways from the day you were created till wickedness was found in you," as well as the multiple times the chapter stresses that the cherub of Eden fell because of his corrupting beauty above all.

I realized I never really saw "blameless" Lucifer, innocent Lucifer. In a lot of interpretations, he's just sort of born wrong or always a little Evil. But the lines say that he was innocent once, and I got really caught up in that. I thought of God watching Lucifer be beautiful and innocent in all that time (like a voyeur).

It felt like the next step in Lucifer's development to take the child-parent relationship between him and God and make it ugly. (Though sticking with the dichotomy of good vs evil didn't really work for me. Lucifer isn't good but he's not evil either, and the weird love and hate mixture is what brings him closer to how God is, too (to me)).

We live in a day and age where all authority is being critiqued, where we don't laugh at teenage rebellion as much. I mean, if you watch any recent Disney movie, you'll see parents learning from their children to stop the cycle of generational abuse. And, of course, with Lucifer becoming so associated with queerness (Lil Nas' MONTERO for example), the framing that he's just a metaphor for a teen rebel who will one day realize his dad was right... falls apart. Lots of teens kicked out of their house for being gay are grown up now and making shows/movies/etc.,. And I think it's always better not to shy away from trauma victims being imperfect and, occasionally, cruel.

So. yeah! I've always been surprised that Lucifer as an imperfect victim of parental abuse, running away, taking some of his sibling with him, isn't more common in general.

#i may not be making sense rn #mine #ask

[misterragny]

I recently reread the Fairy Tail manga...

Well, what can I say, from the very beginning of this anime / manga, I liked a couple of Natsu/Lucy and I were scared of their long-term relationship for a while 

My fanatical desire for their relationship lived in my heart for a long time, until I realized a simple truth 

They will be 100% together, I am no longer afraid of such a long development of relations, because it is already clear and understandable that everything will be fine with them

I'll explain:

In all my long (25 years) life, I have not seen so many hints from the author about their relationship

(How do I want to see so many hints about Kogami and Akane from the Psycho Passport🥲)

How many times did Lucy calm Natsu down, how many times did Natsu rush into battle, seeing that Lucy was in danger

You can say no, he was eager to fight for the guild and for his friends, yes you are absolutely right 

But look at it from the other side, Mashima supports NaLu's day, he painted NaLu's daughter, can this not be considered a wild hint at their canon?

I believe that at the end of all 100-year quests and the continuation of these 100-year quests, Natsu will finally understand that it's time to take the relationship to a new level (to the level of Edolas, otherwise, knowing Natsu, he will transfer them to a completely different, unknown level) 

So why am I doing this, just recently I was in a misunderstanding and even in a panic that they are not being made a couple, but after looking at several sites and blogs, I am convinced for the first time that they are canon and will be canon

A few facts:

• The author made bold allusions to their relationship several times throughout the manga (how many screenshots do I have on my phone, God)

• The author drew his daughter NaLu and adheres to their day, celebrating it annually with fans

• NaLu is officially canon in Edolas!

(After a while I expect it in the original world)

• Plus another chapter from the 100-year quest, which shows alternative characters from the original, where Lucy and Natsu have an interesting relationship, if you understand what I mean 😏

 I will also present some screenshots in addition 😁

Well, thank you all for your attention 😄

Sorry for the mistakes, I'm working with a translator 🥲

#fairy tail #fairy tail 100 years quest #fairy tail nalu #nalu #anime #anime and manga #manga #hiro mashima #lucy heartfilia #natsu dragneel #fairy tail natsu #fairy tail lusy