#when the pressure is sort of all fake and i don't need to do that to myself

[mythandral]

i have fallen off the febhyurary wagon i think - oops

#might dip back into some of the later ones but #i've been ill this week and it's far better for me to not get stressed about a backlog #when the pressure is sort of all fake and i don't need to do that to myself #doing it for more than like. 3 days was an achievement for me anyway haha i am not very good at these things

[sunkissed-zegras]

𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐌𝐄? ─ PB⁵

౨ৎ ─ summary | request -> "Omg a fic where Paige and reader have always had this sort of sarcastic bickering borderline mean type of relationship/rivalry but one day the tension suddenly just goes from competitive to sexual and thennnnm ykkkk"

─ word count | 3.7k

─ warnings | NSFW under the cut, read at your own discretion! whoo, where do i begin???? paige/reader being a fucking ASSES (like super mean) and lots of insecurity, cc mention and comparison (pls don't come 4 me it's for the plot!!!!!! i didnt mean it!!!!), lots of arguing and fighting, mean!paige (like.... im talking MEAN), fingering (r receiving), so much dirty talk, idk if i missed anything lmk

─ ev's notes | the chokehold the pic in the middle has on me IS INSANE, also finishing a smut at 11 am should be a crime 😭 (but i’m feeding yall so be grateful)

THE GAME COULDN'T have gone worse.

The opposing team seemed to effortlessly dominate every aspect of the game. Shots that normally found their mark clanked off the rim, passes were intercepted with unnerving frequency, and the defense resembled more of a sieve than a fortress. Your entire team was quiet in the locker-room and Geno had told them that they needed the night to regroup, and they'll talk about it when they got home.

You made your way upstairs with Azzi and Aubrey, both trying their best to make you feel better. You played like shit, plain and simple and despite what your teammates were telling you, it was true.

You couldn't shake off the feeling of letting your team down. In the game, you were a shadow of your usual self. Your shots seemed to lack both the usual power and precision. Your attempts to drive to the basket were easily thrown by their defense, leaving you frustrated and angry.

Even your usually reliable defense broke under the pressure. You found yourself out of position more often than not, leaving gaping holes for the opposing team to exploit. Your reactions were slow, your movements sluggish, as if your body refused to respond to the commands of your mind.

"Hey," Azzi grabbed your arm so that you could meet her gaze. "We win and lose as a team, alright? This isn't all on you, we all played like shit tonight."

"But we always come back, Y/N." Aubrey added as you met her gaze as well. Their words would've made you feel better if this wasn't the worst you'd played all season, maybe even your entire college career.

You didn't bother to respond, you stayed quiet as you walked in your Azzi's hotel room and in there was Nika and Paige. They were seated on the bed, Nika looking more defeated than Paige, she looked more pissed than anything.

Paige didn't even acknowledge you as you walked in as she greeted Azzi and Aubrey, but you didn't even care right now. You were not in the mood for her shit, not after the game you just played tonight.

You sank into a chair in the corner of the room, the weight of the defeat pressing down on you like a leaden blanket. Nika's defeated expression mirrored your own feelings, while Paige's indifference grated on your already frayed nerves.

You listened as Azzi and Aubrey exchanged small talk with Nika and Paige, their voices a distant murmur in the back of your mind. But you couldn't bring yourself to join in the conversation, couldn't muster the energy to plaster on a fake smile and pretend that everything was okay.

Instead, you sat in silence, lost in your own thoughts. The events of the game replayed in your mind like a nightmare, each mistake magnified in the harsh light of hindsight. You wanted nothing more than to forget about the game, to push it to the back of your mind and move on, but the sting of defeat lingered like a stubborn stain.

"You okay, babe?" Nika's voice rang out as you got pulled back into reality. All the girls attention was now on you, feeling a bit self-conscious.

You forced a weak smile, attempting to brush off Nika's concern. "Yeah, just... processing everything, you know?" Your voice sounded hollow, even to your own ears.

"What's going on?" Nika asked, the concern evident in her face. "Talk to us, please, Y/N."

Nika knew how hard you were on yourself, she had seen you weather victories and defeats alike, always striving for perfection. Her gentle prodding encouraged you to open up, even if it meant admitting your own vulnerabilities.

"I played like shit," was all you could get out as you leaned forward, feeling their gaze on you. "I don't know what was so different about tonight but I just felt like the weight of the entire team was on my back and I didn't know I was carrying it until the end, and I just crumbled to the pressure."

"We all have our moments, Y/N." Azzi spoke up, empathy evident in her expression. But before anyone else could respond, Paige scoffed as she met your gaze.

"Carried the team? We all did what we could tonight and we don't need your shit." Paige's voice dripped with contempt, her words like a slap in the face.

You felt a surge of anger rising within you, fueled by the frustration of the game and now mixed by Paige's bitter words. How dare she dismiss your struggles so callously?

"What's your fucking issue, Paige?" you retorted, your voice tinged with frustration.

Paige's eyes narrowed as she glared at you. "My issue? Maybe if you didn't choke every time the pressure was on, we wouldn't be in this mess," she shot back, her words cutting like a knife. "You're always making excuses for yourself, Y/N."

You scoffed, getting up from the chair to glare at her. "I'm not making excuses, I'm acknowledging reality. We all had a bad game, Paige. It's not like you were lighting it up out there either."

"I did better than you, that's for fucking sure." Paige's voice came out bitter as you felt yourself let out a quiet scoff. You couldn't fight with her anymore, you were exhausted, both mentally and physically.

"Guys, stop it." Azzi's voice cut through the tension like a knife but neither of you acknowledged her, you both just kept glaring at each other.

"You're a bitch, Paige. You're just jealous because at the end of the day, you're just a burnt out star who can't handle not being in the spotlight anymore. Sorry that Caitlin's out there doing better than you, and that you feel the need to be a fucking ass all the time," you retorted, your words dripping with venom.

The frustration of the game, mixed with years of simmering animosity, boiled over into this heated argument that neither of you seemed willing to back down from. You didn't know why you brought up Caitlin, but all you knew was that you'd definitely get a reaction.

Paige's eyes flashed with anger, her jaw tightening as she glared up at you. "The fuck you have to bring Caitlin into this? At least I was a star, you'll never make into the WNBA with that attitude, I promise you that. You're just a selfish brat who can't handle criticism-"

"Hey!" Nika's shout rang out as she glanced in between the two of you. "One more word from either of you and I'm telling Geno, you guys are teammates and you need to act like it."

You glanced at Nika, seeing the disappointment etched on her face, and then back at Paige. Despite the rivalry between you, you knew that Nika was right ─ however, you weren't quite ready to admit that.

You scoffed as you exhaled, feeling everyone's eyes on you. You didn't acknowledge any of them as you left the hotel room, feeling your eyes burn with unshed tears. You were embarrassed, Paige had always been hard on you for seemingly no good reason but it's never gotten this bad.

You two had always been good sports, even when the other played like shit. She never brought anything up that would actually hurt your feelings, unlike tonight. You didn't know why, you tried to think back at what could've changed tonight but came up with nothing that made sense. You just hoped it wouldn't affect the way you played with her, you didn't want it to effect the team more than it has.

You walked into your hotel room, locking the door behind you as you walked into the bathroom, ready for a warm shower to drown out the rest of the world.

──

"Who is it?" You asked as you heard the knocking on the door. It was nearing two in the morning and you had just stepped out of the much-needed shower, clad only in your robe.

"It's me," Paige's voice was quiet as she spoke, your whole body tensing up just at the sound. You sighed deeply as you walked up to the door, opening it to reveal a slightly disheveled Paige.

She looked really, really good; she had her hair up in a loose bun, her gray sweats were slightly rolling off her hips and her shirt fit her just perfectly. Goddamnit, Y/N ─ focus. You tried to hide the tug of attraction you felt towards Paige, pushing the distracting thoughts aside as you met her gaze.

"What do you want?" you asked, your tone guarded as you leaned against the doorframe.

"Let me come in," Paige's statement didn't come off as a question, more like a demand. You sighed and leaned backward so that she could enter.

Before you could say anything, Paige started talking. "I don't appreciate you comparing me to Caitlin, especially after the season I had."

You scoffed in disbelief as you closed the door. "You came in here just to say that?"

Paige turned so she could send you a glare. "I came in originally cause I was gonna apologize. But then I remembered the whole Caitlin thing-"

"What's up with you and Caitlin?" Your words came out with the same intensity as hers did. "I don't know why you took that comment to heart because you started this whole damn thing."

Paige's expression hardened, a defensive edge creeping into her demeanor. "What do you mean by that?" she snapped, her tone sharp with irritation. "I had the most terrible season, and everyone has been comparing me to her-"

You felt a surge of frustration rising within you, the tension between you and Paige reaching a boiling point. "And what about everything I've been through this season?" you shot back, your voice tinged with anger. "You think this season has been a cakewalk for me? You think I don't know what it's like to struggle?"

Paige's jaw clenched, her gaze hardening as she met yours head-on. "This isn't about that," she retorted, her voice low and tense. "This is about you and Caitlin suddenly being all buddy-buddy after the Iowa game. The comments under your posts, the calling and the texting. It's obsessive and annoying, I don't like it and I don't want you hanging around her anymore."

You paused for a second, trying to process her words. Paige's accusation caught you off guard, the weight of her words sinking in like a lead weight in your chest. Was she jealous? You couldn't help but let out a small laugh as Paige's eyebrows furrowed.

"The fuck you laughing for? You think this is funny?" Paige's eyebrows furrowed even further, her frustration palpable as she waited for your response.

"Aww, are you jealous?" Your words came out amused as Paige kept glaring at you. "I'm not replacing you or the team, she has a boyfriend."

"I'm not jealous," Paige's glare intensified, her jaw tightening with frustration at your teasing remark. "Don't flatter yourself, Y/N. I couldn't care less about your little fling with Caitlin."

"Then what's your problem?" you pressed, unable to resist the urge to push her buttons further. "If it's not jealousy, then why are you so worked up about it?"

Paige's nostrils flared slightly as she averted her gaze for a moment, before looking back up at you. "Cause it's no damn comparison. At the end of the day, you're on my team and you're mine," she paused as she shook her head. "My friend," she quickly clarified.

You blinked in surprise at Paige's sudden intensity, the weight of her words sinking in like a heavy anchor. The possessiveness in her tone left you feeling flustered, unsure of how to respond.

"Paige..." you began, your voice trailing off as you struggled to find the right words. But before you could even process anything, her lips were on yours and your back was pushed up against the wall.

Instinctively, your arms found their way around her shoulders, pulling her closer as you responded to her kiss with equal fervor. The heat of the moment consumed you, erasing any doubts or reservations as you lost yourself in the sensation of her lips on yours.

Her lips on yours sent a shiver down your spine, electrifying every nerve in your body as you surrendered to the passion that consumed you. All thoughts of the past were forgotten as you gave yourself over to the intoxicating enticement of Paige's lips.

Her hands slide up your body and hold your neck as you let out a soft whimper, causing your head to fall back against the wall. Paige's lips began leaving open-mouthed kisses all over your jaw and neck, as her hands explore your body.

This couldn't be happening, you kept thinking to yourself. After playing on the same team as Paige for almost three years now, it felt like this was a fever dream ─ but you didn't mind it, not at all.

Her lips found yours again, kissing you roughly as your hands gripped her head. With ease, she lifted you up into her arms, your weight feeling insignificant against her strength. She kept her lips on yours as she carried you toward the bed, dropping you swiftly as your hands found her face.

Paige's hands had easy access to your body due the robe, that she quickly slid off as her lips stayed on yours. She pulled away for a second, breathless, as she took in your body with admiration in her gaze. You felt self-conscious for a moment, but you had no time to dwell on it as Paige pulled you down on the bed.

"You're fucking gorgeous," she mumbled as she pressed kisses all over your neck. "I hate how gorgeous you are."

Your mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions as Paige's words and actions washed over you. Part of you wanted to resist, to question the sudden intensity of this moment, but another part of you couldn't deny the undeniable chemistry between you and Paige.

But as her lips trailed along your neck, you found yourself unable to resist the pull any longer. With each kiss, each touch, you felt yourself unraveling, giving in to the utter need that surged through your body.

"I hate how you make me feel," Paige whispered against your skin, her voice husky with desire. "Every time I'm near you, it's like I lose control. Like I can't think straight."

Her words sent a shiver down your spine, igniting a fire within you that burned brighter with each moment. You reached up to cup her face, guiding her lips back to yours in a desperate kiss, hungry for the taste of her against your skin.

You reached out to her, your fingers tangling in her hair as you pulled her closer, unable to resist the magnetic pull that drew you together. "I hate how much I want you," Paige groaned, her voice tinged with frustration as she pressed her lips against your neck with force, pulling a soft whimper from your lips.

"I hate how much I need you," Paige spoke as she gazed into your eyes, her grip tightening on your waist as she pulled you closer. "But I'm not gonna fight it anymore. I'm done pretending like I don't want you, okay?"

You felt a rush of heat flood through you at her confession swirling in the pit of your stomach. In that moment, all you could think about was Paige completely, letting her consume you with her passion and desire.

"I want you, too, P." You finally let out, your voice quivering as she began to caress your thigh.

Paige scoffed, shaking her head at your words. "I know, I know you do."

She pushed her lips into yours again, a needy moan escaping your lips as she pushed you onto the bed. She straddled your hips as she kissed all over your neck, feeling yourself pulsate beneath her. You couldn't even think straight anymore, your mind was complete mush as she kept kissing all over your neck and jaw.

Paige mouth traveled down toward your stomach, leaving sloppy kisses and hickeys all over it. Your hands found her blonde hair, tugging as she teased you. Her blue eyes were completely focused on you, every reaction and every sound that you made, fueling her desire even further. With each kiss, each touch, she seemed determined to leave her mark on you, to brand you as hers in every way possible.

And you welcomed it, craving the intensity like a starving soul. With each tug of your fingers in her hair, Paige responded with a groan of satisfaction, her lips and tongue leaving a trail of fire across your skin.

She pried open your legs slowly, her gaze still lingering as your breath hitched. "Fuck," she mumbled as her eyes flickered toward your soaking cunt ─ she was at a loss for words.

Paige fingers teased your entrance, pulling needy whimpers from your bruised lips. "You're so wet for me, baby," she finally plunged a finger into you, causing a borderline pornographic moan to leave your mouth.

Every sensation was heightened, every touch sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body as she thrusted her finger in and out of you. She wasn't gentle by any means, you could practically feel the anger radiating from her body as she watched you.

You leaned further into the bed, covering your face with your arms as a string of moans left your mouth. Almost immediately, Paige gripped your arm and pulled it off of your face. "I want you to look at me while I fuck you, alright?"

You couldn't reply with any words, you weren't even sure you were conscious at this point ─ the exhaustion from the game, the anger from the earlier argument and now the utter pleasure of you were feeling was fogging up your brain, you couldn't even think straight anymore; all you could do was sit there and take it.

You tried your best to keep your eyes on her, but you felt yourself slipping as you arch your back. She added another finger, causing a new sensation jolting down your body ─ you hadn't even orgasmed yet and you feel beyond overstimulated.

"Does Caitlin do this better than me, huh?" She mumbled as she leaned forward to press a sloppy kiss to yours lips. "Fucking answer me," she groaned as she pulled away.

You shook your head fervently, the only words you were really understanding were "Caitlin" and "better". Her movements became faster and deeper with your answer, causing another loud moan to slip out of your lips.

"Fuck, please," you cried out as you leaned back into the bed. Paige quickly pulled you down by your hips, making sure to pin you down as she continued to finger-fuck you. "Please,"

"So polite, baby. Fucking three years, it took me three years to realize that they only thing you needed was a good fuck for you to be nice, huh?" She spoke harshly as she felt you tighten around her fingers, your face contorting into utter pleasure as you shut your eyes. "Now I know whenever I need you to shut up, all I need to do is fuck you, right baby?"

Her words all blurred in your mind as she began rubbing your clit, and you were cumming all over her fingers ─ the knot snapped hard, you were crying out so loudly, Paige was worried the neighbor's were gonna call the office.

She helped you ride your high as you caught your breath, before she pulled out her sticky fingers from your cunt. Before you could even process it, she stuffed them inside your mouth roughly as her blue eyes analyzed you.

You sucked them clean as you finally came back down to Earth, finally (kinda) being able to think straight. You were breathless, your legs were shaky and you were sweaty all over again. You finally opened your eyes to meet Paige's eyes, your heart almost jumping out of your chest at the look of utter admiration on her usually disinterested face (at least, when it came to you).

Before either of you could revel in the moment any longer, Paige's phone began to buzz in her sweatpants. She sighed loudly before picking it up, "What's up?"

You could recognize Nika's voice as she spoke but you couldn't quite understand what she was saying. However, when Paige's expression turned cocky as she took another look at you, you had a couple ideas on what it could be about.

"Yep, we made up. We're fine now, don't worry. Yeah, we're good, y'all can head to bed," she nodded along with whatever Nika was saying, a cocky ass smirk on her lips.

"You wanna talk to her? You sure?" Paige took a look at your disheveled appearance, laughing as your eyes went wide. Before you could protest, she handed you the phone. "Here you go,"

"Hey, babe," she spoke softly through the phone. "I made P go and apologize, I hate seeing you fight like this and-"

Her voice slowly became background noise as Paige leaned back into the bed, pulling you into her chest. Your heart began beating out of your chest as you relaxed into her embrace.

"-And I just love you guys, okay? Y/N, you still there?"

"Y-yeah, sorry. I'm just sleepy, we love you too, Nika," you got out as Paige smirked at you.

"Okay, okay," Nika replied, her voice filled with genuine affection. "Get some rest, okay?"

You said your goodbyes before handing the phone back to Paige, who ended the call with a satisfied grin. You couldn't help but roll your eyes at Paige, only she would fuck your brains out then make you answer the phone.

You laid on her chest quietly as she pulled the blanket over your body, pulling you even closer. You guys sat in silence, both of you knew there was a lot of debrief ─ however, both of you were too tired to bring it up.

"I'm sorry for bringing up Caitlin, that was a bitch move," you began as you closed your eyes, getting comfortable beside Paige.

Paige's hand gently traced patterns on your back as she sighed softly. "No, I'm sorry too," she murmured, her voice filled with sincerity. "For being a bitch, and saying all that stuff about you not making it into the WNBA,"

"I know you didn't mean it," you mumbled as you felt yourself drift off into sleep. Paige leaned over slightly to turn off the lights, and you both slowly drifted off the sleep.

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↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

#paige buckets #paige bueckers x reader #paige x reader #paige bueckers #paige bueckers fluff #paige bueckers fanfiction #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers headcannons #paige bueckers fic #uconn huskies #uconn wbb #uconn women’s basketball #wcbb #wbb x reader #wcbb x reader

[noxtivagus]

good afternoon c:

#🌙.tbd #just a quick vent. maybe the last one on this account before i spam these sort of things on that sideblog instead #tbf i think i'll feel better in a bit. i slept at half to 7 and i woke up sometime at 3 pm around an hour ago #anxious. i think. overwhelmed. likely too. i'm so tired of thinking too much about all this bcs i know i can manage better but #am i not sure what to do? maybe i'm afraid? bcs fuck i don't want others to worry. i really really need to stop writing these things. but #idk i'm afraid of the image i put out to others. afraid of how it impacts the world around me. #so i want to hide. but then i feel like a fraud. in these anxious moments. am i faking being better? #the contrast of it. hurts. i've never been one to hide. i hate hiding. but i'm so used to hiding. i'm too accustomed to it #i think i'm afraid. recently i think i've been influencing some friends more idk about my irls i don't talk to them particularly a lot but #one example is online friend on twt that i mostly talk in a gc w apollo. we've been talking more ever since the 28th n very recently #(yesterday) we've been talking in dms & maybe that's opened up smth i may have been bottling recently #am i afraid of making mistakes. that if i'm not 'perfect' or 'ideal'. my worth would be lacking? #that's smth i've struggled w all my life i think. since as a kid i used to perform very well in school n all. i was so afraid of failure #but at the same time i knew i was lacking. i was too shy. i was afraid to recite. n other things brought me down too #sometimes i feel so fake bcs other times i genuinely can be proud of myself. but when anxiety grips me. everything changes #and i feel so fake bcs i can't seem to really accept in a way that. bcs fuck i know that's normal. i'm human. i'm human.... #what if i'm not aware of the extent i push others away. of this subconscious barrier around me i can't take down no matter what #i shouldn't have to be so afraid. but even if i am. i shouldn't have to be so harsh on myself #then i just get confused. overwhelmed. i wish i could just force myself to be better. but i know i need to slow down. just feel this #overwhelmed by what i'm doing. what i need to do. what i'm not able to do. the pressure i place on myself is so anxiety inducing #i know i can do better. but rn in these moments it's just so hard for me to 'rest'. accept that i #it hurts bcs i'm so weighed down by it all. being too much? too little? what is real & what is fake? it's hard going on confused #i feel like a hypocrite. i just can't seem to really be kind enough to myself to genuinely accept that #i'm human. it's alright to feel like this. it will pass too. it always does. #but then it weighs me down even more when i think of my mistakes in the past. & of the time i'm wasting by doing all of this #then i'm just left overwhelmed and confused and sorry. sorry for everything i've done & couldn't do. #sorry because i'm just not enough in these moments. too much too little... never quite enough. i'll try to rest though. even if it hurts #being afraid of the unknown right now hurts so much when last night before i went to sleep i was writing to myself about how much it #fascinates and interests me. but life isn't consistent. and as human i also have my downs. it's inevitable. i need to really accept that. #but it's so so hard. it hurts it suffocates me n leaves me cold. i wish i could at least just be good enough for others.

[getodrools]

your toji really does something to me. the big mean gruff guy that he is, not even caring if you turn to a whiny mess is just top-tier. i was wondering what's your take when possessive-ish (and slightly insecure) bf toji found out you're using sex toys (dildos, vibes and suckers) whenever he's not around ;p thank u sm and i hope u have a wonderful day ahead <333

໒꒰ྀ ྀིᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ ohhgossh i’m glad it does winkwink honestly, any possessive but insecure asshole like toji is HARD on the mind omffghh especially as big as he isss makes it so scarily hot (¬////¬)… newaays ! i hope you have sparkles n’ only sunshine today ml ! ! thankuu <3

꒰ ୨ NEVER BETTER! ୧ ◞ T. FUSHIGURO ꒱

ᡣ𐭩 warnings. mdni | f! reader | pwp, usage of dildos + vibrators on reader, anal !!!!, overstimulation, masturbation ( reader ), size difference, degrading, orgasm denial, dacryphilia, tongue pulling, finger sucking, no prep ish, creampie, humiliation. ( wc. 2.6k+ )

TOJI IS ALL MORE than just confident that your needs are beyond filled – especially how heavily you sleep when he's getting ready for work; the way you sprawl out so peacefully with a soothed face from the night before… A night of stuffing and tight, burly positions that folded you into two.

Practically glowing!

He admires the way you drift off, pecking right at that pretty head he knows is lost in dreams right before he steps out…

Confident he did damn good fucking you...

But the way you — now, nibble at your bottom lip from the pressure of a pink dick squeezing past tight walls, he'd think you wouldn't be moaning just as loud as you would with his real pink dick!

. . .

“Does this mean something?” Your heart not only throbs as hard as your clit does, but the mix of covert ecstasy and shock does not settle well in the pit of your tummy.

Your eyes snap wide towards a particular man sauntering against the bedroom doors frame — forgetting today was only a meeting, not his usual dozen missions that takes hours beyond… And now as your eyes tremble, watching each other again a lot earlier than you had expected, clearly, you try hard to muster something up.

“Toji! I… I was just—” You fumble.

The irritant rumble was deep in his throat as he parted his lips before you could embarrass yourself some more, “What're you now… some cockhungry whore?” The way his voice had dropped more than just an octave had you coward; legs tweezing back together to slowly pop the toy out as if he couldn't already see the puddle seeping in the sheets…

“No no, keep that in you since you seem to be so needy.” His shock was just as pounding. But the blank slate ridden across his face seemed to be more of shame, even his posture was stiff. Almost like the thick poll hard in his confines, but the way he crossed his arms over their stacked muscles was threatening.

Was he warning you?

Don't say anything dumb, “… I missed you…”

“Really? Or do you miss having something in you, huh?” He sounds more repentant than angry, “‘Cause… that, is nothing like me.” His finger waves around in a circle.

The shroud of his features hardened like clay above his feelings. Though you never caught sight of them much, you can tell he was… off about this. Not knowing exactly how to feel, seeing his pretty girl stuff herself with a fake dick when he's only one call away made his chest ache with a broken ego… His eyes grew darker – like jungle trees in rain, not the evergreens you always admired and it made you tremble.

But in the moment, your legs opened back up as shame was swallowing you whole. Listening in faint hope he'd spare a sort of mercy…

His shoes click.

One, two, three steps he was already filling up the bed and was reaching for your legs.

Slapping them apart, too slow for what he'd asked for, “Do you need every hole stuffed? Is that what I made you out to be? Hm?” Toji tries to play it off, watching how it began to slip out from the pressure of your tight, slippery walls.

It was a bit smaller in length, and of course, the bright pink was far off from his usual tanned base and flushed tip. Other than that, the veins and girth seemed to fill you just right how he does…

Toji clicks his tongue, “This thing really makes you feel good… too?” Your eyes shake, too embarrassed now.

You nod your head, “But it's nothing compared to you…”

“Oh, I know.” But gazing at the wet slop your pussy gushes out with still, even teased by just a flimsy — dumb toy… he was feeling otherwise.

His palm tracks up your foot and to your thigh, traveling between the sweet heat of your legs ‘till he reached the suction part of the dildo. You wince soon as the toy plunged back up, filling your pussy with ease as Toji carefully watches your reactions.

Just the same. Damn.

“Toji... I promise…” Your knees clink together, but his body forcing them apart denied your retreat.

“Tch, I know that thing doesn't make you feel that good. You're just bored.” He soothes himself and ignores the other buzzing toy laid next to you too, for now…

Maybe his tongue may not work as fast as those crafts, or maybe his dick may not have multiple functions that could whirl and vibrate but he damn well was not about to be outclassed like this. Outclassed by something fake!

He had to prove a point.

He's a real man, and those are just frauds.

You didn't keep track, but his pants had already been tossed somewhere followed by his shirt.

Nibbling at your bottom lip, “You're always busy…” and his own parts, “And?”

And? Your brows hook in, “I can't just call you when you're in the middle of business...”

“Ah, making excuses now? It's o.k that you're a needy cock thirsty slut–– no need to deny it.” Toji smacks his lips, dismay was written all over him, “So, I’ll give you exactly what you seem to want so badly, ‘n maybe, that'll calm your rabbit ass down.” He was just jabbing at you left and right, it was a roller coaster of humiliation and twisted pleasure.

Your head falls back, groaning into the palms of your hands as the man fell to your body – his cock now off its leash and clanging between his thighs like a church bell. Feeling him rub closer to you, your pussy oozes and clenches around the thick rubber lodged up in you, creating a mess of goo to slime down the crack of your ass.

It was enough muck and glisten to shine his bulbous pearl; smearing the hard cap around the stream – teasing you. Teasing that perk hole that was still too tight to stick a measly finger in, a hole that was left untouched and clearly wasn't plugged up – clearly how you desperately so needed to be…

“I'll make sure your nice n’ stuffed, baby, that's what you want, right? Heh.” And with that followed by a grunt, your eyes snap wide and knock back. Toji held at your waist with a tight hold, keeping you down as you twisted in sodden bliss.

Gasping, “Toji!” and drawing out the syllables with a loud hiss. Your moans trailed off in a low whisper of pure adoration, “Ohmygod.” Your little rim hole formed an inviting seal, and you were set right against the base in a swift thrust. Aching at the long, throbbing mast - your ass squished down on his hardness with enough pressure to keep him practically trapped. He winced too as he watched with wide eyes when his strong pelvis knocked into the dildo... Forcing the toy to ram further up into you in reverential lust.

Oh. Fuck.

Two dicks? One man? His thoughts light up, a wry smirk now plastered wide. Maybe… he did like this… His hand had left a deep mark in your thighs, catching it soon as he reached for the whirling pink, strawberry-sized replacement beside you.

“Huh, this thing goes fast.” Still lodged in you, he was inspecting it and you were inspecting him. Cursing beneath your breath, he was trying to bully you out of his own damn insecurityes!

A big man with a broken ego is not a good mix.

Toji presses the vibrator right against your puffy clit, making tenfold of the pleasure throbbing up your brain. It was like your function to speak was fully cut off; all points of sensitive bits were being toyed with ‘till they bulged out in aching bliss. Your clit was already puffy as is, the session he caught now becoming more swollen as he crushed that toy between your bundle of nerves, pussy stretched wide with another toy as your perk hole was being rammed with a mean man's cock…

Your mouth seemed full with moans, but looked empty in his eyes, “Don't you start whinnin', thought you wanted to be all plugged up?” His hand is rough against your face, squeezing the fat in your cheeks until your lips sucked in his fingers; one, two, and three hooked down your throat.

“Or is this too much? Can't handle what you thought you could?” Bullying your poor holes, he lets out a hearty chuckle, “You ain't no big girl.” Those tears of pleasure lusting down your ridden cheeks and shinning down his forearm sure did express that.

Toji did not expect to go this far. But watching how you gagged around every inch of him hiked something up his spine. A sort of sick pang. And it made his cock grow an inch harder, throbbing deeper up your perk little hole, nearly worming up to your guts…

Toji was quick with his motions; hips jackhammering a cruel rhythm into your ass, and at each killing strike, the silicone cock slid back and forth. The tight pressure of your wet pussy slid it out only for his working hips to ram it back in all in sync. All walls, gummy and soft, rubbing around thick slabs of hard meat, fake or not, your mouth still drooled between his digits like so.

Moans bubbled into spit; purely messy and sticky all around. Just filthy.

“You really are a cock whore.” His brows raise, catching how you twitched beneath him.

Your high was itching close, feeling it rock in your core as soon as Toji’s hips bucked widely. But Toji knew that face, even though half was being squeezed into his palm, he saw that very shine he so adored.

You whine out; your tongue was pinched between his pointer and thumb, “I don't think so.” His body stills, yet yours spasms in wanton need.

You wanted to scream his name, but the mean clip at the point of your tongue only slobbed out a mess when you tried. Defeated. You can't win against him! When he wants to prove a point, you will get the point, and it was aching soon as you recognized this deal.

“I'm still upset with you.”

Asshole.

Your legs fall from the sky. Limp and full – as much as you had thought you could be… Toji only played fair with himself, letting his own high rock out from his tight orbs throbbing up ‘till they released from the pent pressure.

Lodged in your ass, it was warmer than usual. You could feel how his cock throbbed powerfully, swelling and pushing aside the fleshy walls surrounding him, and he was undone with a quick sodden push. He grunted loud and kept his hooded eyes locked with yours needy doe ones – teasing you, bullying you.

As he shoved his hips up, he made sure you felt him and the first jet of cum spiraled upwards like a geyser, splattering a full can of white paint across. Your perk hole clenched from the sticky ropes of cum slathering deep – no way it'd bubble out the way his hips clamped into yours. Even the rubbery dick stuck in your pussy was deeper than you could imagine.

Another rope ran out his turgid cock, still working a rhythm that could churn it thickly inside of you… Doused in white gunk, the glowing man stilled. Keeping you plugged up, Toji tilts his head and eyes you up and down, admiring the beads of sweat rolling across those pretty peaked mountains of flesh.

“Needa get something for those tits next time. Or was that enough for a while–– Satisfied now?” He snorts and you snort back up the snot threatening to glob down your chin… more than satisfied. It was a damn new world you just explored and you couldn't help but imagine what's on the other side. Hoping you'd get to cum all over him, if he'd play nice…

He sighs catching that sick flicker in your eyes but leans close to your shivering frame that's all more than ready to give out if you dared…

<– BACK: PINNED ꪆৎ NEXT: MORE TOJI –>

#🌐 𝐿𝒜𝒱𝐼𝐼 𝒲𝑅𝐼𝒯𝐸𝒮! #ᝰ toji fushiguro! #toji smut #toji x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk #jjk toji #toji fushigro x reader #toji fushiguro #tw dacryphilia #tw overstimulation #tw size difference

[wriothesleybear]

A True Angel Amongst Us

~warnings: Some angst but ends with fluff, insecure Sunday, slight story spoilers, fem!reader, 1.9k words.

~a/n: I've been wanting to write for Sunday for a while now and the first thing I write has angst ;-; I've been having trouble coming up with ideas for him, but after the 2.1 patch, I've wanted to write fluff for him and about his insecure side because I feel like he sort of has one deep down. Angel just needs some love.

Sunday has been tenser than usual lately. The stress from the loss of his dear sister, the struggle of finding her murderer, and the stress from the possibility of a traitor being amongst The Family and the pressure from his master being the main cause of his tension. He puts on a mask and pretends that everything is fine to ensure that The Family's image isn't tarnished, but behind closed doors is different. When he's alone, he just stares off into space, lost deep in the sea of his endless thoughts. Even with you, his dear wife, he puts on a mask sometimes. He doesn't want to worry you and show you the strong leader that he is, who is capable of overcoming any obstacles and who will deliver righteousness when the day comes.

But no matter how much he tries to hide his weaknesses, you can see beyond his mask. You notice in the way his shoulders are always tense, his hands in fists, the frown that lingers on his face when he thinks you aren't looking, and the way he's less talkative during your limited time together. You hate seeing your husband this way, knowing he's bottling everything up inside. It's only a matter of time until it all bubbles up and he eventually snaps.

You decide to visit him in his dreamscape mansion office. You hadn't seen him all day due to him being busy with work. You weren't even able to see him off this morning as his side of the bed was already empty and made up. Knocking on his door, he tells you to come in. "What brings you here my dear?" He says with his masked emotions. Your eyes survey his office, noticing how it's a bit messier than usual even for Sunday's standards. He usually has everything in perfect shape given his ocd. Nothing was ever out of place for him unless something was wrong, further proving your suspicions. He notices how your eyes survey his office, the look of concern on your face is apparent. "I wanted to check in on you, my love. I wanted to make sure you were doing okay." You offer him a gentle, kind smile. "Of course I'm doing well. Why wouldn't I be? As head of The Family, it is my duty to be competent to fulfill my role." He gives you a smile, but it's not a real one. It's one of those fake smiles he puts on for show when out in the public eye.

"Sunday. I know something's bothering you. Please, just talk to me." His smile falters, his fake smile fading as he contemplates your words. You had been worried about him ever since the death of his sister. As the caring wife you are, you've been by his side, making sure that he was doing alright. Bless your soul, but with all the questions and pity stares, he couldn't help but get disgruntled. He knows you meant well, but his insecurity couldn't help but get the better of him. He thought you saw him as weak. I mean, he couldn't protect his dear sister for god's sake. It's his duty to protect those he cares about and he failed. He surveys your face while lost in his thoughts. His train of thought is broken by your calls of his name. He plasters on his fake smile.

"Dear, there's no need to worry about me. Or do you truly believe I'm just that weak?" You're taken aback from his accusation. You gather your courage and try to shut down his allegation. "Of course I don't. You're the strongest person I know, Sunday. It's just.. I can tell you're undergoing a lot of stress lately given the loss of your sister and work. I want to help you." By now his fake smile has fallen completely, replaced with a emotionless look. Turning away from you, his back faces you, making you unable to see the pain on his facial features. "I'm fine. You should leave, dear.." You could hear the coldness in his tone. The emptiness in his words sending slight shivers down your spine. You try to protest and get him to open up to you, but he cuts you off. "Don't let me tell you twice." He says in a strict voice, void of emotion. You hesitate but respect his wishes. You turn to leave without another word said. He doesn't even notice the breath he was holding until the door shut behind you.

~

Later that night, you lay wide awake in bed. Thoughts of your earlier event with Sunday replay in your head. After you left Sunday's office, you thought everything would be okay by dinnertime, but he never showed. You tried not to take it to heart too much, taking in consideration what he's going through right now, but when it got to midnight and he still hadn't arrived home, you began to feel worse. You've known Sunday for years. You knew how he was raised to become the perfect leader to represent The Family. He was a strong leader who believed in righteousness, in helping those in need, and caring for the people of Penacony. You know he's the kindest and most compassionate person with many strengths, but you also knew that he had many insecurities. He was scared that others would see him as weak and he was worried that everything he worked so hard for would be taken from him. Getting tired of wallowing in your thoughts, you finally decide to find him and try to get him to talk to you one way or another.

Arriving to his office once again, you knock on the door and patiently wait for an answer. "Sunday? It's me. Can I come in?" No answer. Maybe he was shunning you, but you weren't one to back down and walk away. You weren't going to give up on your husband. "Sunday. I'm coming in." Grabbing the door knob, you push the door open and are welcomed to a dark office. The only faint light coming from the windows in his office. Even with the limited lighting, you were able to see that Sunday's office was a bigger mess than earlier. Papers and books were thrown about the floor, the miniature display of Penacony in ruins. Worried, you continue to scan the room until your eyes land on the man slumped over his desk. Walking over to him, you observe his appearance. His clothes are in disarray, coat thrown recklessly on the chair, his wings and hair disheveled. "Sunday.." You hesitate for a second before resting a hand on his head. He tenses from your touch, causing you to withdrawal your hand. "Darling? What happened?" You ask in the most gentlest voice you could muster while trying not to push him too hard to talk. He doesn't reply to you. He keeps his head down on his desk, not willing to move an inch.

You quietly sigh. "Sunday. I understand if you don't like me pestering you with worries and questions. I'm your wife and I care about you. I'm only trying to be there to support you. I am here to support you. For anything. I'm here." Silence. You didn't expect him to reply but you wanted him to hear you out. "I'll give you your space, but just know, I'm here for you with open arms when and if you need to talk." You turn to walk away but suddenly, you're stopped in your tracks by a hand grabbing your wrist. Turning your head back, you see that Sunday is finally looking at you. You can see the pain in his eyes and by how his hand slightly shakes. Without saying anything, you turn your body to fully face him and open your arms wide, silently welcoming him into your arms.

He doesn't waste another second and wraps his arms around your waist, burying his head into your chest. Wrapping your arms around him, you feel his body slightly shaking as you hold him close. "It's okay Sunday. You don't need to hide from me. I won't judge you. Please, don't push me away. I'm here for you." You gently whisper as you stroke his hair. He doesn't speak, all that's heard is his deep, shaky breaths as he tries to control his emotions. It's taking all his willpower to not breakdown crying right there.

"Can you look at me darling?" He's hesitant, but eventually pulls his head away from your body without releasing his hold around your waist. He looks up at you. You notice the painful expression that graces his beautiful features. His golden eyes water as he tries to prevent the tears from falling. He hates showing weakness let alone looking weak in front of you. You cup his cheeks as you search his eyes, giving him a gentle smile. "It's okay to show weakness sometimes, my love. You're the strongest person I know and nothing will change the way I feel about you. I will always see you as the strongest, most caring leader and husband."

Without realizing, tears have begun to fall from Sunday's eyes as he listens to your reassuring words. Your thumbs move to wipe his tears. "I'm...I'm sorry...for pushing you away." He quietly says, his voice slightly cracking. "There's no reason to apologize, Sunday. I know you didn't mean to. I don't blame you." He feels guilty and embarrassed as he tries to move away so you don't see him cry, but you stop him. "It's okay to cry my love. Let it out if it'll help you feel better." He can feel the love through your words and the look you give him, causing more tears to fall. All you do is give him a comforting smile and continue to rub his wet cheeks as he lets his emotions out. You lean down and press a kiss to his left cheek. He gasps, surprised by your sudden action. You switch to his other cheek and continue to kiss his tears away. You leave one final kiss on his forehead and pull his face into your chest. "We can stay like this for as long as you want my angel." He buries his head further into you, wrapping his arms around your waist as you comfort him.

You can feel his body relaxing as he continues to bask in your comforting hold. "Thank you, my love. You are the true angel amongst us." You giggle and continue to hold him close for as long as he needs, occasionally giving him words of comfort and gently stroking his hair and back. You'll wait as long as it takes until he's ready to talk to you, but he understands now that he has you to catch him when he falls and he'll never push you away again.

#hsr sunday #sunday x reader #sunday headcanons #sunday fluff #hsr x reader #hsr headcanons #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail headcanons

[gisellaswrld]

i’d go out of my way to receive your attention; wide eyed at the circumstances i’d do for you

qh43 | after an argument with quinn, you find yourself at the bars with your less than protective friends. quinn becomes the savior, yet things still weren’t right.

Going out to the bars was never an easily time for you. It was filled with constant anxiety and paranoia that something bad would happen to you. You weren't really an over-anxious person regularly, but when it came to going out, things were different.

Tonight, your friends suggested to take you out, telling you that you needed to take the load off after the month you had.

The previous month, it was like some sort of bad karma. First, your car broke down on the interstate during rush hour. Then, after you got your car home, someone broke into it that night. Not to mention all the work troubles, a small argument with your dad that left you sleepless.

The biggest of all? Quinn and you got into an argument a few days prior to tonight and you haven't spoke since.

It wasn't even a big argument to start. It was simply because Quinn forgot to mention that his parents were coming to Vancouver. You were unable to get any time off of work to be able to meet with them, and Quinn was not happy about it.

Of course, you got defensive because it wasn't your fault. Quinn just didn't want to see it in the way you did. Which led to four days of not speaking, the longest period of time you've gone without speaking to Quinn since you started to talk.

Your friends were taking you to the bar, one saying she'd be the designated driver for the night. Usually, being the DD was your position. Considering the friend was usually the one who drank the most on night outs, it made you anxious.

There was the possibility that she'd just not care and end up drinking, leaving no sober driver.

All in all, you were anxious before even leaving for the bar.

Your friends had to practically force you to down two drinks. Most people would call it peer pressure, but to them they were encouraging you to "fight your urges" or whatever.

You thought about messaging Quinn before you left your apartment, letting him know that you were out. But your friend, Olivia, confiscated your phone before you could even click on his contact name.

"Don't you feel much better now that you aren't sober?" Olivia shouted over the music, a giddy smile plastered on her face.

"Mhm," You raised your eyebrows, a fake smile on your face. "Can I have my phone back? I want to take some pictures." You lied, reaching out for your phone.

"Sure, I guess. No texting Quinn though! We don't chase, we attract."

You grabbed your phone from Olivia, scoffing at her saying. After shuffling through bodies of people, you finally made it to the bathroom. There were many ladies inside, drunkenly leaning on the counter and complementing each other.

You just needed a somewhat calmer environment than the scene outside the door.

Your brain had gotten overwhelmed, anxious thoughts were filling too quickly. Even with only two drinks, you knew you were done drinking. After a few deep breaths, you finally went back outside.

You searched for your friends, ultimately spotting them at the bar. Then, just as quickly as your mind has settled, it was filled with your worst fear. All of your friends were taking numerous shots, leaving none of them sober.

"Shit," You quietly whined to yourself.

You backed up back to the bathroom, leaning against the bathroom counter. You could call an uber. But that would leave a car here and then someone would come back and get it. It could get broken into, or stolen.

"Babe! You look sick," A drunken slur from a girl.

You looked over to see a ginger haired woman, drunkenly staring at you. A small smile appearing on your face.

"I'm okay,"

The girl shrugged, leaving the bathroom.

And for you? Well it wasn't hard to sneak outside, leaving your five friends inside. Olivia's words rang through your mind.

We don't chase, we attract. Bullshit.

You were quickly grabbing your phone from your purse, dialing Quinn's number. The cold air outside mixed with the anxiety and paranoia in your brain made your body shiver.

"Hello?" Quinn's voice sounded confused, and tired.

In his defense, it was 1 AM by this point.

"Quinn, I'm sorry if I woke you up. But my friends dragged me to the bar, they are all drunk, I've been drinking, I can't be here any longer. My head is-" Her rambling was quickly cut off.

"Which bar are you at?" Quinn quickly spoke and you could hear the sound of keys in the background.

You told Quinn the bar and waited for him, alone, outside.

The familiar purr of Quinn's engine is what made you lift your head from your knees. You opted on sitting outside on a curb, knees pulled close to your chest.

"Jesus, Y/N, what are you doing?" Quinn muttered a rhetorical question. He picked you up back onto your feet, his eyes trailing your body.

"I didn't want to go back inside because my friends would trap me, so I waited out here," You scanned your surroundings, now realizing the dark street that sat in front of the club.

Quinn gave you a disappointed look, crossing his arms over his chest as he shifted his weight. "By yourself? You realize it's fuckin' 1AM. Like you could've been-"

You quickly rolled your eyes, shoving past him as you got into the passenger seat in his car. Quinn stood on the sidewalk, presumably shocked by how you were acting, then eventually got in the drivers seat. He started to drive to your apartment.

If there was one word to describe the car ride, it would be tense. The whole entire vibe was heavy, too heavy for your brain. So you cracked the window. No words were spoken between Quinn and you. To you, it felt like this was the end. The end of a long journey.

You felt pieces of your heart chip away the closer you got to your apartment. (Though, if you hadn't been too preoccupied with staring out the window, you would've noticed Quinn spent 40% of the drive looking at the road, and 60% looking at you.)

Quinn parked in a parking spot, his usual spot. No one dared to move an inch, breath to loudly, do anything that showed a sign of life. After a harsh swallow, you were the first to speak.

"You can get your things from my apartment if you want," Your voice was so quiet, so soft. But it was only because if you spoke any louder, it would be a sob.

"What?" Quinn seemed confused, furrowing his eyebrows as he quickly looked at you.

"You can get your things-" Quinn was quick to interrupt.

"No, I heard you. I'm saying what because I'm confused where this was coming from." Quinn explained, turning to face you.

"When was the last time we spoke?"

Quinn sat silently, knowing the answer. He just didn't want to admit it.

"And how long have we been together?"

Still no reply from Quinn.

"Exactly Quinn. What am I supposed to expect if for the first time in our five year relationship, we go more than a day without speaking? What am I supposed to think when we have an argument and suddenly you just go mute?" Your voice wasn't raised, it wasn't angry, you were able to calmly express the thoughts in your brain.

"I don't know."

You nodded, tired of his overly simplistic and lack of effort answers. You got out of the car, walking to your apartment door.

For some reason, maybe it was the small amount of alcohol or the dark loom of thoughts that your relationship with the man you want to marry is coming to an end, by the time you reached your apartment door you were sobbing. More than sobbing, absolutely in hysterics, hyperventilating, shaking. It was surprisingly you even knew you were at your apartment.

Quinn, on the other hand, felt guilty. Guilty that he had no other reason besides being stubborn, guilty that he made you think everything was over, and most of all, guilty that you thought Quinn didn't love you. Because if Quinn didn't love you, he wouldn't have even brought you home.

So as quickly as you broke down, Quinn was right there by your side. He caught your body just as you were falling to your knees, bringing you into his own.

"I'm so sorry, Y/N." Quinn spoke, pressing his cheek against her hair. "I'm so sorry, I was being stubborn, I didn't realize what was going on."

Quinn continued to apologize. His sweet nothings filled your heart, and eventually you finally grasped onto him. When your arms wrapped around Quinn, that was all he needed to ease his worried mind.

"I'm tired." Was all you could mumble, mentally and physically tired by this whole night. It had exhausted you.

"Let's go sleep then."

#nhl #nhl x reader #nhl imagine #hockey #quinnhughes #quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes x you #quinn hughes x y/n #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes blurb #quinn hughes oneshot #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes angst

[fbfh]

older!logan x reader hcs

wc: 1.6k

genre: age gap, sort of sugar daddy logan

warnings: big (but legal) age gap, logan is early 40s reader is like early 20s, brief odette mention, logan is a killer lawyer, rory kinda traumatized Logan lol, I haven't finished gilmore girls or ayitl yet so don't come for me lol, logan is obsessedddddddd with reader, mildly smutty, mentions of marriage and proposals, your relationship progresses really quickly

summary: you were reading in a coffee shop when a charming gorgeous much older guy decided to strike up a conversation. little do you know that within a very short time that same charming stranger will know your dress size, your shoe size, and your ring size.

song rec: off to the races - lana del rey

a/n: the choke hold older logan has on me..... euthanize me at this point lmao

tags @yesv01 @magcon7280

As with all nsfw works, all characters are aged up to 18+ (like way over 18 in logan’s case lol)

That being said jesus christ let’s dive right into the brain rot

First things first, a little more about Logan

He’s in his early 40’s and aging like a fine goddamn wine

MEGA MEGA dilf vibes

After the whole millions of dollars sunken into a bad investment in his family’s massive media conglomerate mishap, he still faced a lot of pressure to join the family business

But with Rory rejecting his proposal, he felt so fucking down and beaten up by life

He just had two massive blows to his ego back to back

And he needed a win

Then the strangest thing happened 

He just got back from another late night of partying with his friends and switched on the tv so he wouldn’t have to fall asleep with his thoughts, and some random movie was playing

The girl in the movie is at dinner with her boyfriend and thinks he’s going to propose, but he breaks up with her instead

It hits a little too close to home and Logan’s about to switch it off

Then she decides to go to law school to prove herself

He finds himself getting more and more invested in this movie, relating more to Elle with every scene, and by the morning he confronts the idea he’s been shoving away for too long so he doesn’t rock the boat

He talks to his dad and they decide Logan will go to law school, but remain a prominent board member and shareholder of the family company

Mitchum is surprised by how responsible and well thought out Logan’s plan is

He’s forging a path to a very lucrative field - one Mitchum can tell he’s going to be very successful in - while still staying involved enough in the family business 

So Logan goes off to law school, and 20 years later he’s a total shark 

He’s a prestigious, expensive lawyer with a reputation for never losing and a long streak of killing it with really high profile cases

Now the Huntzberger name carries all the weight and power of his father’s media reach, and Logan’s success in the courtroom 

He’s excelling 

And he’s excelling enough to keep his family out of his personal life for a while 

He’s living the bachelor life until he hits 40

That’s when his parents decide it’s really unacceptable that he’s still not married 

So they tell him if he doesn’t get married soon they’ll arrange something

Some french heiress or something 

And Logan finds himself right back where he didn’t want to be

And then, like a gift from god, he sees you

Like I said in my initial drabble, Logan first saw you in a cafe reading some dusty novel no one actually reads like war and peace or crime and punishment or something

He's seen people your age do that before, reading complicated stuffy literature to seem smart and make some pretentious English class commentary that barely makes sense 

So he calls you on it

"War and Peace, huh?"

He’s expecting you to say something fake and pretentious

Some bullshit fake deep pseudo intellectual shit

But you look up at him, only pausing for a moment before you speak

You’re surprised to see such a gorgeous guy in a little cafe like this

Especially one that seems interested in talking to you

And god, the way you talk about it

The way your eyes light up

It takes him by surprise

He's not just interested

He's invested 

You start talking and realize that you've been talking for way longer than you expected to

And he wants more

He wants to know more about you, wants to see you sweet smile and hear your cute little laugh when he says something charming or compliments you

So he takes you out to dinner, his treat 

He guides you out the door and into his Porsche with his hand on your back 

It's a subtle gesture but it makes your stomach flip 

Then he buckles your seat belt for you

If you weren't sold before you sure are by now 

So he takes you to this nice fancy restaurant, wines and dines you, and he is laying on the charm thick

"Oh, come on. A pretty young thing like you must have a boyfriend."

"Really, you have excellent taste.”

You don’t miss the way he’s been eyeing you all night

And he doesn’t miss the way you squeeze your thighs together when he touches your face or plays with your fingers

One thing leads to another and after he pays the bill and leaves a generous tip, you find him ushering you back into his porsche

And yet again he closes your door for you and gets you all buckled in

This time when he drives his hand rests on your knee

He thinks he can handle this

He’s the biggest whore on the east coast /affectionate 

Then you grab his hand and move it up your thigh

There’s no going back now

He’s in just as deep as you are

Before you know it you’re tearing off each other’s clothes

His lips are all over you and motherfucker does he know what he’s doing

He worried for a moment he might have lost his edge

But as he lays you down into his big soft bed, your skin touching his silky sheets for the first time

But definitely not the last

As he finally touches you and feels how wet you are for him

He knows he didn’t peak in college

“Shh, listen,” he says between kisses that make you feel dizzy, “you’re gonna tell me if it’s too much for you, can you do that?”

You nod while he holds your face in his big hands

“You gotta say it,” he chuckles at how sweet you are, how well you respond to him, “use your words, baby…” 

You manage to choke out a desperate yes between kisses that makes his stomach twist

And that is the very beginning to your intense affair with Logan Huntzberger 

He’s desperate to see you again

He sends flowers and a dress and a gorgeous necklace to your apartment

And not the normal amount of flowers

The Logan amount of flowers

So a lot

And you can’t believe your luck finding a hot rich older guy that’s so into you 

You really like this attention

Your daddy issues are SCREAMING

And Logan likes having someone as gorgeous and intelligent and into him as you are

And he wants to do this right

But he’s rapidly approaching the deadline his family set

He doesn’t want to scare you off

GOD that’s the last thing he wants

But he is terrified of proposing and having it end up like it did the last time

Eventually he works up the nerve to talk to you about it 

He’s explaining everything to you while you pay your bills 

But it says they’re already paid

And your credit cards are paid off

And your debt has just disappeared

Even your student loans are gone

And there’s a fat deposit in your checking account 

He paid off all your debt and didn’t tell you

By the time he’s done explaining that you basically either need to get married asap or you can’t see each other anymore he still hasn’t brought it up

And you realize he’s not going to

He didn’t pay your bills to guilt you into anything

He’s not holding it over your head

He’s taking care of you

And all you’ve ever wanted is someone who will take care of you

Logan is surprised when you agree

But he’s even more surprised at how fast you agree

You sit in his lap and end up rambling about how much you love him, how you don’t think you’ll ever find anyone you like as much as him or anyone that treats you as well as he does

To no one’s surprise the conversation ends with him taking you on every surface of your apartment

Hours later you’re cuddling naked on your couch, resting your head on his muscular chest and listening to his heartbeat

“So like… are we engaged now?” you ask looking up at him

He laughs sweetly

“No, not yet. I have to actually propose first.”

You think back to your conversation earlier when you first said you’d want to marry him

“So that didn’t count before?”

His heart breaks at how little you ask for

“No, that didn’t count.” He kisses your head, “I’m going to take you out somewhere nice, give you a proper proposal, with a nice ring.”

You get butterflies thinking about it

You can’t believe how much he does for you

How much he wants to do for you 

You’re quiet for a moment, and he can feel you smiling into his chest

“...Okay.” 

Your voice is so small and bashful, and he can hear you suppressing a flustered giggle

Fuck he can’t get enough of you 

He laughs and pulls you closer, grabbing your chin and makes you look up at him so he can kiss you 

You fall asleep in his arms

And you think that you won’t mind being married so young if it’s Logan you’re marrying

Logan is looking at you with so much love and adoration

And right before he falls asleep 

He thinks that maybe it’s not too late for him to find love after all

#logan huntzberger #logan huntzberger x reader #gilmore girls #gilmore girls x reader #logan huntzberger smut #gilmore girls smut #older husband!logan #older boyfriend!logan #older!logan #sugar daddy!logan #euthanize me #he's just #so #very #hm. #he's so #just #yeah #you get it #we're all like this after reading that lmao

[allysunny]

Hi Ally!! (Can I call you that?)

First of all,

*ahem*

CONGRATS ON 200 FOLLOWERS WOOOOOO✨️🩷🎉

I know that every single one is deserved, and I'm proud to be one as well 😌

I saw that you were doing a lil event to celebrate, so don't mind if I do!! 👀

I'd love it if you could write some much needed luv with Brucey! I picked 25+1 + g!

Imagine that Bruce and reader are just watching the stars, maybe either in the gardens of Wayne Manor or on top of Wayne Enterprises, and all Bruce can think is how beautiful reader looks under the shinning stars 🥹

Basically, Bruce is infatuated and he's smiling like an idiot!

You can add, take away stuff as you please, of course!

I'll wait as long as you need, so no pressure!

I'm excited to see what you come up with!!!

Much love,~ Fi 🐝

"You look stunning" / "You don't look so bad yourself" + "I love you" + Stargazing x Bale!Bruce Wayne

Words: 4k words

Warnings: Tooth-rotting fluff, friends-to-lovers, Bruce is a big sap and he's very much in love, stargazing and talks of stars (nothing too technical). This is extremely sweet, very corny and sappy and I live for it! Written with a female reader in mind, I'm sorry but I don't yet write for GN!Reader.

A/N: First of all, thank you very very much for the kind words!! YES, you can absolutely call me Ally! Everyone can! I agree that we need some love with Bruce because this man needs happiness pleasepleaseplease...

This was my first 200 Followers Celebration entry (which is still open and you can participate!), and I'm so happy that I got to write this scenario! We don't often get to see Bale!Batman being happy, so I hope I did him justice, and I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Took me some time because I had to sort out some uni stuff, but it's done and I really had fun with it!

I hope it is to your liking!

⁽ᵃˡˢᵒ, ˢᵐᵃˡˡ ᶠᵘⁿ ᶠᵃᶜᵗ, ⁱ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵍᵒ ᵃˡᵒⁿᵍ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵐᵃᵍᵍⁱᵉ ᵍʸˡˡᵉⁿʰᵃᵃˡ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵃᶜᵗᵘᵃˡˡʸ ʳᵉᵃˡˡʸ ᵈⁱˢˡⁱᵏᵉ ʰᵉʳ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵒᵛⁱᵉ ˢᵒ ᵉᵛᵉʳʸ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ⁱ ʷʳⁱᵗᵉ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ʳᵃᶜʰᵉˡ, ⁱ ᵃˡʷᵃʸˢ ᵖⁱᶜᵗᵘʳᵉ ᵏᵃᵗⁱᵉ ʰᵒˡᵐᵉˢ 😭⁾

Parties at Wayne Manor could be oh so dreadfully boring.

Bruce didn’t particularly enjoy them, nor did he even want to throw them, but he knew it was necessary to keep up appearances. Tonight, he celebrated his birthday.

The evening had been filled with fake smiles, polite nods, firm handshakes. “Happy birthday, Mr. Wayne”s here, “You’re looking more and more like your father each day”s there, “What a spendind party this is, Mr. Wayne!”s in the corner, and, if he was feeling particularly unlucky, a few “Ah, what a lovely Manor you have, Mr. Wayne. Such a shame you’ve been keeping its beauty from the world…”s somewhere.

He’d downed one or two glasses of champagne in a few gulps, finding it harder and harder to stand the people all around him, fake leeches who hung on his every word and command, enthralled by the promises of what his money and wealth might mean to him.

Well, all except for one.

You.

You’d been friends for a while. Bruce can’t pinpoint exactly what made him think of you as his best friend other than just a regular acquaintance, but he knew he would never give you up. You were the only person who saw him for he really was, who refused to kiss his ass and baby him, who told him things as they were instead of coddling him simply because his name implied he was to be so.

He felt disarmed when he was with you, able to say anything that went on his mind. He could be himself. Could crack terrible jokes that would have you throw pillows at his face, could drop the eccentric billionaire façade and be an annoying nerd (as you so often put it), just looking for some friendship. He could talk to you for hours on end about topics that weren’t his last name, his family, his money, or his status. He could ask you for book recommendations and be told he’d enjoy this one silly adventure book about spaceships and planes, as opposed to the boring non-fiction and autobiographies usually gifted to him, “a man of culture”.

He could ask you for good restaurants and you’d take him to small, barely noticeable cafes and places that served homemade food, instead of being offered reservations at Michelin worthy restaurants. He could be a regular person.

Every time he felt himself loose grasp of his identity when adorning the black suit, he was reminded by you of who he was. You didn’t know of his secret identity but could sense when he was particularly tired or trained and were always able to put a smile on his face and return his grip on reality.

He needed you by his side. You calmed him down. You cheered him up whenever he felt upset. You made him laugh whenever all he wanted to do was cry. You didn’t question him whenever he told you he needed space, instead providing him with just that. And as days went by, Bruce Wayne was not sure if he saw you as a mere friend anymore.

After all, friends don’t linger their gazes on each other’s lips for more time than deemed appropriate. Just friends don’t make up fake problems or fake dilemmas just to get the one to visit them (let’s be honest – “I don’t know where I put my remote” was a pretty pathetic excuse and Alfred mocked the hell out of him after you’d left).

In conclusion, he needed you. By his side, to cheer him up, to get him out of boring situations, close, smiling, laughing, happy, to hug him, to be with him, etc. He needed you.

Which was why he’d invited you to celebrate a date as important as his birthday.

Bruce never really minded his birthday. He usually spent it at work during the day, politely accepting the nice words people gave him, then got home, ate his favourite dish cooked by Alfred, and left right after to protect the city of Gotham.

But unfortunately, he just had to celebrate his birthday this year. He’d been cornered by a few Wayne Enterprises associates and tricked into throwing a hell of a party in his Manor. He just sighed and filled Alfred in on the conversation he’d had at work, instructing the older man to take care of the preparations.

And of course, he’d invited you. If there was anyone that could make this dreadful celebration just a bit more bearable, it’d be you. He invited his childhood friend Rachel Dawes as well, but she’s just announced her engagement to District Attorney Harvey Dent, and while they remained friends, he did not expect her to dedicate him all of her time (especially when everyone kept asking to see her ring and tell the wonderful story of how they met).

But the problem was, you were nowhere to be found.

He knew you had arrived, Alfred had told him so, but just as he was about to chase you down the huge area that served as a ballroom, he was interrupted by a few family friends. Seeing as these were some of the few families that were in genuine good terms with his parents, and not simply greedy leeches, he decided to chat with them, smiling genuinely at their compliments and quips.

But now it’d been a few hours, and he couldn’t find you. And the combination of all of the unwanted people, the general chatter, and the lack of the one person he wanted by his side were getting to his head. And perhaps the champagne as well, even though he hadn’t drunk nearly enough to be the slightest of tipsy. What if Gotham needed him?

“Ma’am, I’m sure your quest for the very much secret next Fabergé Egg is quite intriguing, but I have a few guests I need to tend to. Everyone wants a piece of the host, what can I say? Birthday boy privileges.” He charmed the woman with one of his most dazzling smiles and pried away from her gloved grip, looking around for his knight in black and white armour.

Quickly replying to every guest that throwed a comment his way, he reached Alfred, who was standing in the corner of the room, silently accessing the party.

“Another useless conversation with any of these bloodsucking idiots and I’m killing myself,” he muttered, grabbing a champagne flute from a passing maid, and chugging the whole thing in one go.

“And here I was thinking you’d probably die at the hands of some unruly criminal, wearing the cape and cowl. All that training and fighting in some remote location only for you to die at the hands of Gotham’s wealthiest?” Alfred said, his voice laced with sarcasm and brow quirked up.

“Well Alfred, get me out of this and I might just be able to die the way you envisioned me doing so.”

“By my hand, Master Wayne?”

“Exactly.”

The two men chuckled, and Bruce took another look around the room, before turning to his butler.

“Have you seen – “

“In the gardens.”

Bruce was halfway across the ballroom, shouting “Thank you!” before Alfred could say anything else.

It took a while for him to find you.

After all, the gardens were filled with people talking, catching up, and the occasional couple slobbering all over each other’s mouths, apologizing profusely once they saw the Manor’s owner stride past them.

“Bruce?”

He turned around and was met with Rachel’s smiling face.

“Running off so soon?” she asked, Harvey Dent’s unmistakable figure walking up next to her right after.

“Yes, well, one can only get so much attention before they start getting bored of it.”

Rachel gave him a sympathetic look, and shook her head, nudging it towards Harvey.

“You don’t have to pretend with us.”

With these words, a weight was lifted off Bruce’s shoulders. His posture wasn’t perfect anymore, and the charming, cocky smile left his lips.

“If I have to talk to one more person who wishes to know who the hell decorated the living room…” Bruce sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his fingers.

“I get it,” Harvey said, shaking his head. “If only people were interested in something other than how much I spent on Rachel’s ring, I’d feel more inclined to interact with them.”

Bruce nodded and smiled in understanding, before looking around. He thought he’d glanced at a very familiar face, but unfortunately, it wasn’t you.

“Looking for someone?” Rachel asked with a knowing smile.

“Yeah, actually, have you seen – “

“She was near the apple tree in the back.”

“Thank you.” Bruce nodded and all but sprinted towards the place, leaving Rachel to giggle with a rather confused Harvey.

“Who’s he talking about?” he asked.

“A “friend” of his,” Rachel replied nonchalantly.

“He seemed rather eager to see this friend of his. Surely that’s not all there is to her.” He chuckled; brow quirked up.

“And that, Harvey, is what everyone else but the two of them have figured out.”

Bruce did not hear what his friend had said, but if he did, he’d have gently corrected her.

Because he had, in fact, figured out whatever he felt about you.

Mostly.

He knew he liked you, that’s for sure.

He liked your smile. He liked your personality. He liked how your nose wrinkled up whenever you were cooking. He liked how your eyes sparkled whenever he gifted you a new volume of a book series you’d been collecting, or the way your laughter resonated across the Manor whenever you beat him at videogames. He liked how you always stopped to pet cats and dogs on the street, and how you made funny faces at babies in the supermarket.

He liked how his Manor, although big and empty, seemed full of life with you in it. Even if you were cuddled up on one of his couches, watching a movie, he always thought of it was warmer and more inviting just from your mere presence. He liked it when you massaged his head, thumbs circling his forehead so gently that he often found himself falling asleep in your lap. He liked your touch – found it addictive. Pulling you close to him on the street to protect you from traffic, hugging you every time he saw you, having you throw fake punches at him whenever he told a terrible joke.

He likes you. That much is clear.

But why was it so damn hard admitting that to you?

His steps slowed down as he approached a very familiar apple tree. Wayne Manor had plenty of beautiful plants and trees, much more so than this one. But there was something about it that always caught your eye. Not to mention, it was near a secluded area of the gardens, and you had always been fond of hiding in there. “It makes me feel at peace”, you told him.

Sure enough, that’s where he found you. Staring at the night sky, pretty locks of hair carefully styled with a few flower clips, hands resting one on top of the other behind your back.

You turned to him, shaken up by the sound of footsteps, and he took you in.

And, wow.

To say you looked beautiful would’ve been a crime - such a word couldn’t do you justice.

You wore a sparkly silver gown that pooled softly at your feet, your form modestly accentuated. Two silver straps held it at the front, coming together in a flattering cleavage. Your back was on display, and Bruce had to control himself not to touch it with his bare hands. You looked lovely, your silhouette shining beneath the stars. Their gentle glow was casting a perfect light on you, making you look even more like the celestial bodies you were admiring.

“Bruce?” you asked, tilting your head slightly.

Bruce shook his head, grounding himself.

“Yes. Hey – hey.”

“Cat got your tongue? I said happy birthday,” you smiled and walked up to him, silver dress twinkling with each step you took.

It was as if all of you were made of pure, sheer, dazzling starlight.

“Won’t your guests miss you?”

Bruce approached you halfway and gave you a shrug.

“Probably. Doesn’t mean I’m going to miss them.” This earned a smile from you, and Bruce found himself smiling too. His gaze lingered on your face for a while, before descending once more and taking your lovely figure in again.

“You look stunning,” he said, and you seemed to blossom at his praise.

“Thank you. You don’t look so bad yourself.” And he didn’t. With his black tux and matching bow, he was the picture of elegance and charm. And that disarmingly charismatic smile of his was helping him a long way. There was a reason of course, women fawned over his good looks.

“What are you doing out here?” Bruce asked nodding his head towards the night sky, the one you had been looking at.

“I couldn’t take it in there anymore. It was way too loud, and everyone was way too fake,” you rolled your eyes and sighed. “And the sky is looking far too beautiful tonight. At least here I won’t be disturbed.”

“Well, I did just disturb you, so I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

“I wouldn’t call it disturbing. Your presence is always welcome.”

For a while, the two of you stood side by side, just watching as the sky glittered above. It was peaceful and quiet, and everything Bruce had wanted for his birthday. A nice, uneventful evening with you by his side.

“I can’t believe you can actually see the stars tonight,” Bruce mumbled, genuinely impressed. Usually, as the industrial and active city it was, one never got to see the stars thanks to smoke, lights, or other manmade obstacles. But tonight, the sky was clear and bright, and no clouds were in sight.

“Right?” you smiled, pointing at the sky above you. “Look over there – see that one?”

“Which?” Bruce squinted.

“That one – the kyte.”

“Ah. Yes. I do.”

“That’s the Big Dipper.”

“And the other one next to it?”

“That’s the Small Dipper. Can you see that bright star at the end of it?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s Polaris, the Polar Star. It’s supposedly the brightest star in the night sky.”

“I can think of something brighter,” he muttered stealing a glance at you.

You leaned against him and spoke of constellations and stars to him. Told him the myths that surrounded each one, how far they were from the Earth, how they’d come to be discovered. The party had been long forgotten by the two of you, and after a few minutes of discussing each constellation and their origin, you fell into a comfortable silence, just happy to listen to the happy sounds of crickets and the soft wind brushing against the trees.

“I got you something,” you said, breaking the silence after a while.

He turned to you as you opened your purse and pulled out a small, rectangular object carefully wrapped in golden wrapping paper.

“I know it’s not much – “

“[Y/N]”

“Shush! I know it’s not much, but I worked hard to find it.”

You handed him the small package and he was careful to not rip the whole thing open. Bruce carefully removed a book from inside, and his eyes widened.

“The Great Gatsby?”

“Open it.”

He did, and his eyebrows nearly rose to his hairline.

“Is this?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure?”

“Mhm.”

Bruce carefully touched the inked paper, eyes going over F. Scott Fitzgerald’s words over and over again.

“Where’d you find this?” he asked with a smile.

“That’s a secret. But it’s been quality checked a few times, and I can guarantee it’s the real deal.”

“So, with “It’s not much”, you meant you were giving me a signed copy of The Great Gatsby?”

“You deserve more than that, Bruce.”

In a heartbeat, he had embraced you tightly. You rested your head in the crook of his neck, standing on your tiptoes to wrap your arms around him. Overcome with joy, Bruce spun you around once your twice, and you laughed loudly, holding onto him for dear life.

“Be careful Bruce – shit, don’t drop me!” You protested in between giggles.

Bruce came to a stop, and looked right into your eyes, the world’s biggest grin playing on his lips. It’d been a while since you’ve seen him laugh so freely. Such occurrences were rare – Bruce wasn’t one to smile, not really. But when he did, it was a lovely thing. Not one of his fake smiles, the ones practiced in front of a mirror to impress rich folks and Gotham socialites – the real ones, the ones he gave you in special, true moments like these.

You’d do anything to see him smile like this more often.

“I’d never drop you,” his voice dropped to a whisper, and he swore he could see one hundred stars in the spark of your eyes. In fact, the stars in the sky did not hold a candle to your beauty, no celestial body would ever be more fascinating than your eyes. He was sure astronauts had to be wrong – how did they want to explore the galaxy, when there was one right here, staring into him?

“I know,” you whispered back, hands still on his chest. “I trust you.”

He waited for a minute, eyeing the contours of your face, memorising the way your mouth parted and how soft strands of hair fell on top of your forehead. You stood still, still observing the smile that never left his lips.

“Do you?” He broke the silence.

“Hm?”

“Trust me.”

“Of course I do. I’ll always trust you.”

“Promise?”

“Promise, Bruce. Always.”

“Please remember those words after I do what I’m about to do.” He chuckled and leaned in, brushing his lips against yours in a silent request. Your breath hitched and you looked up at him, to find his eyes closed. You were inches away from him, and yet, he refused to move any further.

“Tell me it’s not just me,” he whispered. You could feel his warm breath on your skin, and it sent goosebumps all over your body. “Tell me the way I feel about you is not one-sided. But if it is – “ and you swore you felt him tense, “I’ll leave it alone. We’ll forget this ever happened; we’ll go back to being friends. But please, just tell me.”

You took shaky breaths, still feeling dazed from being so close to him.

Bruce remained with his eyes closed – he didn’t have it in himself to look at you, not right now. He was far too scared of what he might find in your eyes. Regret, disgust, hate. He couldn’t deal with it.

But the worst thing was the silence. Weren’t you going to say something? Were you going to taunt him forever? He could feel your body against his hands, soft skin sending shivers down his spine, so he knew you hadn’t left yet. Why weren’t you replying?

He got his answer when you pressed closer against him, and he felt your lips on his.

Bruce had fantasised about how his first kiss with you would be, but nothing prepared him for this moment. It was as if you were made for him, slotting perfectly against your body, hands on the small of your back, bringing you closer while your hands rested on his cheeks. Your lips moved in unison, as if speaking a language of their own, and Bruce felt slightly lightheaded.

You tasted sweet – probably from the chocolate covered strawberries you’d no doubt been stealing inside, and wanted to savour them, savour you, for as long as he could.

When you two parted for air, he pressed his forehead against yours, finally opening his eyes. The view was breathtaking; your lips were puffy and parted, your eyes were big and wide, pupils dilated and sparkling in the moonlight. Bruce swore you’d never been so beautiful.

And then he smiled, widely, and burst into chuckles like a lovesick teenager.

“You look beautiful. Have I told you this yet?”

“You have,” you replied, caressing the skin of his cheek. He leaned into your touch, pressing a tender kiss on your palm. “You do too. I love to see you smiling. You should smile more often.”

“Like this?” he asked, pointing at his grin.

“Yes – exactly like that. I could see you smiling more often. And I bet Alfred could too.”

Bruce grinned and kissed your forehead. After, he kissed each of your cheeks, and then the palm of your hand, and then the back.

“As long as you’re by my side, I’m sure I’ll smile much more often.” He confesses.

“Well,” you brought his body closer to you, and all Bruce could think of was how stunning you were, how beautiful you looked, how lucky he was to hold a star in his hands. “I don’t plan on leaving, Birthday Boy.”

It was so uncharacteristic of him. He never smiled this often, and certainly, never for this long, but Bruce couldn’t help it. He was happy. He had you, right there and then with him. Everything was well – more than well, everything was perfect. So why wouldn’t he smile?

His heart was getting fuller and fuller, and he blurted out the next words, without giving them much thought.

“I love you.”

You stared at him, eyes wide, surprise written all over your face.

And Bruce kept speaking, because for once, he was not at a loss for words, he knew exactly what to say.

“I think I’ve loved you ever since I first saw you. I love you and the way you brighten my days and make me feel like something when I can barely get out of bed. I love how you always manage to pick up the pieces whenever I’m shattered and never make me feel responsible for it. I love you. I love your beautiful face, your bright mind, your kind soul, your feisty spirit. I love you – I think I have for a long time, but I’ve never had the courage to tell you. But tonight – this party – you – it's made me realise something. This is Gotham. I could wake up tomorrow, and you’d be gone. I’d be gone. Anything could happen in this city. And I can’t let them happen without you knowing how I feel about you. I’m not expecting an answer back; I know this is a lot of information. And I know I come with a lot of baggage. There’s a lot about me you don’t know, and I haven’t told people to keep them away and keep them safe. But, if you’ll have me, I promise to spend the rest of my days making it all worth it. I will love you and take care of you forever, I promise. I love you, [Y/N].”

You looked at him, and Bruce saw your eyes sparkle with unshed tears. Had he scared you off? Were you upset? He reached out to hold your face, ready to wipe the tears away should they fall.

“I’m sorry. That was too much, wasn’t it?”

“I… I think I love you too.” You replied. The tears did not roll very far down your face, because Bruce was there to wipe them away. And in that moment, you knew he would always be there, be it to catch you, or wipe away your tears, or hold you close. “I really do.”

Bruce’s smile only widened, and he picked you up once again, spinning you around in the darkness of the garden. Your dress floated around you, like a shooting star’s trail, and he laughed loudly. He hadn’t felt this happy, truly happy in a big while. You joined him in laughter, and he put you down carefully.

“Thank you.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“For what?”

“For the perfect birthday gift.” Bruce bent down to capture your lips once more, and stare into your eyes. “You look like starlight tonight. You look perfect. And I’m the luckiest man in the world.” He smiled and kissed you again, because the stars were shining, and you looked beautiful, and his heart was full.

Bruce Wayne didn’t smile very often. But how could he not, when you rivalled the stars up above, and were his, and made his heart burst with joy?

A/N: And that's it! I hope you guys liked it! I'm afraid it was a tiny bit rushed - please do tell if it was. I hope it lived up to the expectations!

Thank you very much for reading, and I hope you have an amazing day ahead!

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x y/n #bruce wayne x you #bale!bruce wayne #bale!batman x reader #bale!batman #bale!bruce wayne x reader #the dark knight #the dark knight trilogy #nolanverse #the dark knight fanfiction #nolanverse fanfiction #bruce wayne fanfiction #batman fanfiction #batman x reader #batman x fem!reader #bruce wayne x fem!reader

[qqueenofhades]

https://www.tumblr.com/qqueenofhades/742700762243727361/you-can-tell-you-work-in-academia-with-how-much

Hi, sorry, Asshole Anon here (I’m not giving myself that nickname to lash out, I’m saying it because I was an ass)

To clarify: I mean “I don’t know what to trust anymore” in that “people whom I normally respect and would otherwise agree with are now sharing material that I find either morally indefensible or overtly simplistic, and at the same time people on the ground in Gaza are saying that Hamas IS a liberation organization, so I trust their word, but there is also the existence of the “We Want To Live” protests, and the fact that there’s now apparently a protest against a child that got killed that isn’t widely reported, with an attached video of said protest from somebody on the ground in Gaza, but it’s in Arabic, there are no subtitles, I cannot speak Arabic, and I don’t trust Google Translate”

I just want an objective sense of what is happening on the ground. I want to know what is and is not propaganda, because I (white, raised in a liberal(?) household, surrounded by white people) am especially susceptible to it. Once I have that objective sense of what the people in Gaza want, then I will be able to effectively and efficiently advocate for shit. But that also necessitates listening to orgs like Standing Together, B’Tselem, people IN Israel who want this shit to stop, and hoo BOY that ain’t gonna fly with those people I mentioned because of:

1. BDS saying that the org “normalizes the occupation”, but they’re made up of Palestinian activists and anti-apartheid veterans, I can’t discount their statement, not fully.

2. Netenyahu’s… Netenyahu

3. Twitter’s doing a great job of asserting that everyone in Israel is a — quoting directly here from a half-remembered Tweet — “genocidal maniac”, or wants the bombardment to happen. (Which I know for a fact is not the case, if the protests calling for a new election are anything to go by)

That’s not even getting into the domestic stuff. I’m in an org rn and I’m getting the sinking feeling that they’re gonna drop this thing like a hot potato when a ceasefire gets called. Just sucks.

Anyways, back to improvement. Just closing this out

I agree that we're currently in a paradoxical state where there is simultaneously ALL THE INFORMATION EVER and ACTUALLY NO INFORMATION AT ALL, and that's what makes it difficult to sort out true from false. It's also what contributes to compassion fatigue, where we are able to get extensive real-time information and/or eyewitness accounts about pretty much any tragedy or catastrophe anywhere in the world, and social media has created a space where we are expected to both immediately react to all that information and to do so in the "right" and "correct" way. Which is basically impossible, and is also what burns out young well-meaning people so hard, where they insist that there's nothing to be done except The Revolution, because they have been so inundated with this torrent of human suffering and it seems like small steps are in fact useless. I am a historian and I can tell you upfront that humans are simply not made to process that volume of information about ALL THE BAD THINGS EVERYWHERE. It's also impossible to have an informed opinion on all or sometimes any of it, but there is still the pressure to visibly do so and to do it in a way that fits in with what everyone in your peer group is saying, even if you don't understand it. So yes -- that is absolutely very difficult, and it's hard to filter or parse it.

That said, I don't think we actually need to have painstaking piece-by-piece analysis of every single piece of information out there, because there are in fact so many competing narratives, perspectives, fake news, disinformation campaigns, opinions, etc., and it will lead you to the same information paralysis: there's just too much of it to even start processing, and so your brain just gives up and reverts to those same simplistic cliches and things that "feel" right, regardless of whether or not they are. When you're trying to decide on the fine details of something, it helps to have an overall sense of the context and narrative that they're operating in. So for reference, these are some broad and basic analytic paradigms that I personally use when reading or thinking about any material in regard to the Israel/Hamas situation in particular:

No person of basic good faith and human decency wants the current situation in Gaza to be happening. However, the person/group that has the power to call it off -- i.e. Netanyahu and the current Israeli government -- has not done so despite increasing pressure from Western allies, because the situation is beneficial to Bibi personally and he sees more use in continuing it than making the decision for it to stop.

The governments of Western allies, therefore, can voice disapproval of Israel's actions (which they have been doing more and more frequently) but unless Netanyahu himself makes the choice to end the war, it will not stop. The West has recently given more and more signals that they are not prepared to countenance the ongoing destruction and genocide of Gaza, but yet again, Israel is its own sovereign country with its own powerful government, military, intelligence services, etc. The "anti-imperialists" who think the collective West can just reach in and turn off the violence whenever they please, and have just refused to do so because they're "bad people," are not being realistic. Western allies can exert pressure and leverage, but as long as Netanyahu himself wants to keep going, he will.

"People in Gaza" and "people in Israel" are not homogeneous blocs who think exactly alike. Some people in Gaza support Hamas. Some people do not. Hamas support has recently grown as a result of Israel's post-October 7 response, but it is not unanimous or unquestioned.

Hamas is the entity that started the current war by attacking Israel on October 7 and murdering/raping/kidnapping 1,000+ Israeli civilians. Hamas is also associated with Russia, Iran, Hezbollah, and other terrorist regimes/states, which are often defended by Online Leftists simply for being "anti-Western," regardless of how heinous their actions also are.

Netanyahu was wildly unpopular in Israel for MONTHS before this current war, due to his autocratic attempts to neutralize the Israeli Supreme Court and make the country even more of his personal fiefdom. There were huge, massive, ongoing protests against his naked power-grab for almost all of 2023, and he was so preoccupied with pushing it through that he ignored warnings from the Israeli and Egyptian intelligence services that Hamas was planning a major attack. These anti-Netanyahu demonstrations have continued and ramped up in intensity even in the middle of the war/attacks on Gaza.

As such, painting every single Israeli as mindlessly supporting the current actions of Netanyahu and the Israeli government is antisemitic nonsense and reflect the current Western Leftist tendency to assume that "all Israelis" and "all Zionists (read Jews)" are evil and personally responsible for this.

Israeli Jews have a right to exist and to reside on the land currently called Israel. Modern Israel was founded in 1948, three years after the end of WWII and the Holocaust, the greatest incidence of antisemitic mass murder in history, which is a fact that cannot be ignored and which western leftists eagerly calling for its total eradication and treating it as an illegitimate "white western settler colony" nonetheless do in fact repeatedly ignore.

This is why many Jews do not feel safe in other countries, because there has literally been thousands of years of history proving that they often aren't, and which the rabidly antisemitic response to the current conflict is doing nothing to dissuade.

Jews have had a presence in the land alternately called Palestine, Israel, the Holy Land, Judah, etc., for over 2,000 years, and their entire religion and history is founded around the exile from Jerusalem. That is the history that the current state of Israel is drawing on. It does not vanish just because it is inconvenient for western leftists to acknowledge.

Israel currently has a militant far-right government (after tending toward rightist/right wing domestic politics more generally, partially due to post-Holocaust trauma) that has deliberately erased, ignored, and violated the equally valid claims of Palestine and Palestinian people to that same land, and which is currently committing full-scale genocide against them.

Palestine and Palestinian/Muslim people have the same right to exist on that land as Israel and Israeli/Jewish people (and Christian people, and none-of-the-three people). They both have equally long and historically relevant claims to this land and one of them (in an ideal world, which we do not live in) should not be artificially prized over the other.

However, this land is some of the most bitterly and violently contested in the entire world, for the last two thousand years and counting, and there is no one good guy, simplistic answer, or quick way to stop it. The three Abrahamic faiths (Judaism, Christianity, and Islam) have fought bitterly over Jerusalem and its associated territories for a cool few millennia, and human nature being what it is, there is no way for one person, group, organization, government, etc to just step in and make it stop.

The Western/American leftist response to the current conflict has often made absolutely no attempt to take into account any of this troubled and complex history, and has reduced the whole thing down to whichever antisemitic and/or anti-Democratic Party soundbites will get them the most traction on social media. This often rests on whitewashing any moral responsibility belonging to Hamas and defending them no matter what, labeling all Israeli Jews as "evil genocide supporters," and assuming that if Biden wanted to magically shapeshift into Netanyahu and give the order to make it stop, he would, but he's "just not doing it," ergo something something Trump Would Totally Be Better!

These people also often call themselves "anti-imperialist" while thinking/demanding that America swoop in and play Big Global Policeman Daddy (as it indeed has often done in the past) and spank all its naughty children (but if it actually did do this, etc etc it would be evil). Biden could very much do more and has not necessarily done enough, but he has also done more than any other American president in history to shift away from unconditional unquestioning support of Israel only, and to advocate for a Palestinian state, a lasting ceasefire, and other basic precepts of Palestinian self-determination and dignity of personhood. These two things can be true at the same time.

I don't necessarily expect everyone to agree with every single fine detail of these statements, but I do expect them to at least make a basic effort to let all of these facts to inform their response, and not just the ones that they most agree with and which most fit their ideology or preferred conclusion. So that's one way to approach the situation, even if we obviously can't wring every single drop of meaning out of every single competing piece of information or evidence, because there is just too much of it. When we have a broader understanding of the space that we are operating in and the precepts that are factually true, we are able to make better judgments about who is trustworthy, who is worth listening to, what message they are pushing, and whether it corresponds with reality.

Good luck. I'm sure you'll continue to think about this and take the steps that you feel are best. It is all any of us can do.

#anonymous #ask #politics for ts #israel hamas war #history #long post

[soraviie]

chasing after you.txt

━ type: bts x f! reader ━ navigation

━ about: dynamics in order: Joon - one-night stand + enemies to lovers, Yoongi - neighbours with a bit of a bad boy influence, Jin - sort of arranged marriage au, Hoseok - exes to lovers, Jimin - sugar daddy/fake dating au, Taehyung - tease x anger issues/clingy + tsundere/f2l, Jungkook - bodyguard x ward

━ pictures taken from Pinterest

━ previously posted on soraviii

NAMJOON: "Aw, fuck, who invited that guy?" you growled, whilst rolling your eyes at the corner where Namjoon had been so precariously sat like an asshole. You hated everything about him - the smug smile, the cocky tone of his voice, the winks he threw your way. Kim Namjoon was nothing but a sure way to get your blood pressure up and stay that way all through the night.

"Probably one of his fri- Shit! He's coming this way!" as your friend dipped over the bar and away into the crowd, courageous as ever, you snatched your drink partially pondering about throwing it into his face.

"You look lonely," he cooed with that shit-eating grin that you had wanted to smack away since the first meeting. And maybe to kiss but he didn't need to know that. "Why don't I keep you company?"

"Keep company with your left hand like you usually do," you yelled over the music.

"Well it does pair well with certain memories of you," he smirked and you groaned in disgust.

A misguided February 14th evening could lead to many foul things - unexpected pregnancy, STDs, Kim Namjoon having the delusional idea that you liked him.

Frankly, you'd rather endure a yeast infection than have this 6 feet fuckboy in the disguise of a pacifistic art lover keep chasing you every night out. More than once you wanted to slap your younger self only to come to their defence over and over again.

Namjoon was big. Big man. Big muscles. Big...well you get it.

And that may have made you a little bit stupid once! But not twice.

Yes.

"I can't stand you," you sneered at him with the most contempt you could possibly muster

"Sit on my lap then, baby."

You took a long swig to finish your drink, sliding it across the bartop and walking backwards, you levelled him down with a:

"You'd only cream your jeans, caveman."

"That's possible," he reckoned with a soft smile watching you mingle with the dancing crowd.

And for a while, it all went well, you'd find someone to at least waste some time with only for them to suddenly start sprinting away for their lives. You frowned after them, coming to a screeching halt in the fun.

Did your breath smell or something?

Taken with dancing, you hadn't noticed the broad-chested giant charging forth, smoke practically fuming from his nostril as his eyes glinted devilishly when tracking down the opponent. As the music changed, you found your waist circled by a shovel-sized palm.

"You really have no luck out here. You keep on being stuck with lil' old me," he whispered in your ear, causing long trails of goosebumps where his breath landed and you elbowed him, hard, in the gut.

He didn't even seem to mind.

"I don't know who you think you are Kim Namjoon but I will never-!"

"Oh, how you hate me," he lets out a burst of raspy laughter, head thrown back on the pillow, pulling you closer as much as he can despite you both being considerably sweaty.

"S-shut up," you grunt back, thighs aching but just a little bit more and you'll be in your happy place even if it was with this obnoxious gym rat. "You're just a cock on legs to me."

"Oh, for sure," he smirks and then prompts himself upwards to bite on your neck. "But you might think of screaming a tad quieter if you want to be really convincing."

It's a sick sense of deja-vu to wake up sore and aching all over in a sun-filled room overstuffed with cacti and a very soft blanket. The bed was empty and as you clamber to the toilet wearing a shirt found on the floor, struggling to walk, you stumble upon him in the kitchen - Cheshire grin spread all over his lips.

"Good morning," Namjoon greets. "You want some eggs, babe?"

YOONGI: His eyes track your movement as though it's dazed him and it's in moments like these you wish he was a criminal or something, a certified member of a mafia. A flag touch redder.

Stay away from Min Yoongi, they said, he's trouble but what to do when he doesn't stay away from you?

"So a kitten does come out to play," he purrs pressing one of those veiny palms against the elevator doors, halting it in its tracks and climbing in. You roll your eyes and straighten your back to appear more threatening. Yoongi, of course, couldn't give less of a shit.

"You're one to speak," you counter. "The most walking you do is through your apartment. It's like a herd of elephants."

"Well then don't listen in on what I do, you little pervert," he smirks, pressing the 8 on the elevator and it jerkily moves through the floors, reminding you once again to be grateful for life.

"Give it here," without waiting for a reply, he grabs the hold of your bags and goes straight to your apartment doors. Once inside he makes himself right at home, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt.

"What are we eating?" he questions gruffly, examining the produce with no small amount of judgment.

"You're speaking French now?" you push him away, relinquishing the rightful ownership of a pair of avocados you bought. "Whose "we"?"

He doesn't bother gracing it with a comment as anyhow a doorbell rings and you see his tongue poke against the cheek.

"Who the hell are you?" he questions sharply and you peer into the doorway.

"Oh, hello," you greet your coworker with a reserved smile. "What are you doing here?"

"Yeah, what are you doing here?" Yoongi echoes, placing his hand above your head and on the very edge of the door.

"Just interested if you're going to the uh... team bonding activities," he replies, fretfully glancing at Yoongi.

"Ignore him, I do," you smirk up at Yoongi. "And-"

"She has plans," Yoongi interrupts, pushing you back into the kitchen with his palm against your back.

"Oh, okay," your coworker stutters awkwardly, trying to lean in somehow. "See you around?"

"No," Yoongi cheerfully replies and smacks the door right into his face.

"You're such a dick," you groan.

"Did you have plans?" he asks with a teasing lilt, voice dropping nearly an octave lower. "And are you going to lie that it wasn't with me?"

"My jumbo-sized Charmander plushie and I are doing well on our own," you point at him with a packet of tomatoes. "Where you fit into the equation is a mystery."

"I'll tell you where I can fit," he laughed, wagging his eyebrows.

"No, no, goodbye," you wrinkle your nose in disgust, pushing his still laughing back out of the door. "Leave."

"Wait, what if I need some sugar?" he objects and you furrow your eyebrows, glaring up at him in suspicion.

"Do you?"

"No," he shrugs carelessly. "But what if."

"Begone, demon," you push against him harder but he seems to only enjoy it.

"Come to my game. It's right across the street in that park. I need a good luck charm."

"Will you be throwing a ball in your face? If no, then I'm not interested."

As you slam the door shut there still comes a raspy whine.

"Come on, short ass, come."

And if you do happen to drop by the nearest park with its shitty basketball court it's because you have nothing better to do and you needed some ice cream. Yoongi, uncharacteristically brazen for him, smirks at then winks in the middle of the game.

And promptly receives a ball to the face.

JIN: "Eat more garlic!"

"Straighten your hair with an iron!"

"Belch really, really loudly!"

You try to recall all of your friends' sage advice whilst pacifying your nerves. Being late nearly an hour didn't sit well with you but this guy was...determined. Insanely determined. So the ends justify the means.

When at last you arrive at the three Michelin star restaurant it's an hour later than what your family had set and you're wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt. Your face may burn with shame at such a display but certainly, this would beat this broad-shouldered man off the path. This was beyond and above rude. You're already prepared to be yelled at, scorned and insulted but Seokjin merely blooms into an eager smile. Doesn't even blink twice at your choice of wear.

He dismisses the host with a polite nod and pulls a chair out.

"Hello, _________," he greets innocently. "Traffic is hell, right."

There was no traffic and he knew it only making excuses to achieve whatever nefarious goal he had set out to.

"Just give him a chance," your mother pleaded over the phone. "He's been asking about you forever. Please, he's rich and handsome, what's not to like."

What's not to like? Well, probably something. Kim Seokjin in your mind had always stood as that annoying guy who'd dropped a water bomb on your head when you were about to take the most glorious profile picture ever. Spinning in overlapping social circles, you'd seen too much of him growing up and had to endure several of your friends flailing over him especially when the pool season began. He was like a jar of honey to their fly status. And as such only a tar in your own pot of sweetness.

He was old. You had not exactly a criminal age difference but still more than 2 years. He was a creep, you firmly plant that idea into the recesses of your mind.

Why oh why, was he so insistent on asking about you?

"Good idea," he praises, pointing at your outfit. "It's best to be comfortable. I should have done that as well, this is quite uncomfortable," he waves a disappointed hand over the blue three-piece suit.

The waiter along with the menu serves you a freshly plucked side eye.

"Yeah, that's why I did it," dryly you mutter back, hiding behind the menu.

Think, think, think, what else turns off snooty men?

"Fucking shit," you cry out to your own amazement. "These prices are ridiculous. I'm not paying for this!"

"That's fine," Jin shrugs with that seemingly permanently etched expression of a tender smile. "I invited you here, I'll pay."

You groan.

"I'll fart," you threaten.

He shrugs and gracefully pours you a glass of wine.

"Everyone does that. It's a part of life."

You slobber your dinner up like a beast.

"Hmm, you're making the meal look more delicious," he nods.

And not even when you "accidentally" spill a mango sauce on his pants worth more than your apartment, does he weigh the thought of becoming angry in his mind.

"Ah, it's a perfect colour now," he merely congratulates with a jubilant cry and you let your head fall on the table with a thud, only it hits his palm as he had stretched it out at the last second.

"Are you insane?" you breathe out in sheer desperation. "Why are you not running over the hills?"

"Do you really think I can't see that you're doing this on purpose?" he smirks in amusement, over the rim of the wine glass. "We've known each other for a while, I know you better than that."

"Exactly!" you yell before falling into a hush as numerous daggers shoot your way. "You know me! As the annoying friend of your cousin! Why are you asking after me all of a sudden?! What joke are you playing?"

"Well, first of all," Jin corrects all too self-congratulatory. "I've never thought you were annoying. Maybe except when you were like 14 but who isn't the worst person in the world at that age? And secondly," his ears abruptly turn quite pink and he lets the wine glass rest on the table, nervously fiddling with its stem. "I asked for you because as you may know your mother is quite eagerly seeking various wedlock opportunities. For you specifically."

That makes you groan only louder.

"Don't remind me. So, so what? You want to get married to me?" you snort at the idea but then, for the first time ever, Jin is not laughing.

"Yes," he says dead serious.

"Wait, is this a prank?" you glance all around in an attempt to find the hidden cameras. "Are you pulling my leg?"

"I'm pulling no legs. What a weird thing to do," Jin muses and you narrow him down.

"Don't joke. It's not funny. Say "got you" or something. You can't be serious?!"

"Listen, ___________, I've liked you for a while now. I wanted to ask you before you began university but then you brought Jae home and..."

"Jae? Jin, that was...that was five years ago! You couldn't have liked me for five years?"

He averts his eyes and sips on his champagne. Even his neck is red.

"Five years?" you cry out. "And you kept quiet?!"

"Well, I told you now!" he objects with some indignation but even more of a burning shame. "All you need to do is to decide what you're going to do. 'Cause I'll accept you as you are, belching, sweatpant wearing and all. Even if you straighten your hair with an iron."

For a second you sit still and stupefied on this ridiculously over-padded chair ad then you feel yourself match the heat blooming on his face.

"You know Giulia?" you ask, downing the entire wine while desperately trying not to smile at the soft amusement in his eyes.

"Of course, I know Giulia," Jin chuckles self-consciously. "Who do you think gave me the genius advice of this stuffy suit?"

HOSEOK: You should have known from the start that this would lead to nothing good. What else could wait for you at the end of the nondescript hallways of conference rooms? One thing you didn't expect however was the loathsome face of your ex-boyfriend. Hoseok was sitting already by the table, beautiful as ever, leg nervously bouncing against the floor and treacherously a click of a lock snapping in its place echoes behind you.

He springs up from the seat, nervously glancing at where you tried to somehow break through the door. Or the wall, whichever came first.

"Oh, hell no," you growled, nails scraping against the doorknob. The betraying Brutus of a friend he had bribed to text you to come here will find an egg on their window for sure.

"_____________, please, let's just talk," he pleads. "Just let...let me explain."

"I don't want to hear any explanation," you hissed, turning to glare at him. From the way his eyebrows sloped, you could tell he was deadset serious but then it comes too clearly back into your mind.

That you were weird, not his type, that he doesn't understand you. But instead of simply crying about it you left. To cry about it in your own space. And also then turn incredibly bitter over it.

"I just meant that..."

"That I'm a freak? Yeah, I got it," you snarled before yanking harder on the knob. "Open the damn door!"

"No. If you're going to leave then please do the courtesy of letting me memorize your face."

You close your eyes, steeling your resolve. Don't give in, you reminded yourself, not after a whole year of hunkering through yet another heartbreak. Hoseok was just like the rest. Taking weirdness in all the things you liked, that you were. Why should you ever change for anyone else?

"It's been a year," you note sternly, having slid on the floor. He's also there, watching away from the small distance with a crease of a frown between his brows.

"Exactly. This year was one of the worst I've ever had," he confesses, supposedly earnestly. "I admit the things that I said were wrong but I did not mean it like that!"

"________________ is just a bit weird. You know the people I used to date, there's a bit of a difference, softly said," you quote him word for word. "And you said that to someone else! You opened your mouth, said that shit and thought it was okay!"

The sun behind the window had nearly slipped over the horizon and the office space was illuminated with a soft orange glow.

"You know the first time I met you, that was a lie," he mutters into the air. No one had come to open the door despite you nearly beating it off the hinges.

"Oh, that too was a lie, wonderful," you groaned, rolling your eyes but Hoseok remains sitting sadly by, occasionally passively twirling his shoe laces.

"I actually went past you on the street. Remember the crossroad by that small confectionery?"

You did remember. You lived right above it for a while, making your hair smell perpetually of candy for half a year.

"I...I got lost around there and walked past you, and you were sort of listening to your headphones, not looking around. I remember," he chuckled as though taken by an old memory. "You wore that knitted jumper that kept falling off your shoulder, the faded beige one and I just...I was so jealous of you, you were so carefree."

You glanced at him surprised. As far as you knew the first time Hoseok and you met was at a graduation gathering, a friend of a friend sort of a situation. And as you sat there, enjoying your barbecue by the side, wondering whether to dip your ketchup-stained hand in some weed brownies, he came up to you with the brightest smile, talking as though he knew you. Guess he did then know you.

"And the next day I went there again. I didn't even know why but I just did and you were there again. And I kept returning," he smiled at the ground but it quickly vanished. "Every day for a month before I met you at that gathering. Sometimes you were there, a lot of times - not but when you did it lit up my entire day. I didn't know how to approach you though, it's not a thing you do in the middle of the street, you know?"

"No," you affirm faintly.

"And when you left..." Hoseok winced at the mere mention of it. "I still kept going back," his breath was nothing more than a whisper stained with regret. The look in his eyes was downright depressing and you wondered if he had roamed around bearing the same heavy chip that you had. "And our favourite cafe. And your favourite park spot. I was there like...like a ghost lingering in your presence."

"But why did you say then that I was weird?" you sniffled, letting, for the joke of your own mental stability, some of that defence down. Attempting to look at Hoseok without the veil of contempt you've draped over him for a year. Dragging yourself back from hell was hard, dragging yourself from hell when thrust there by the one person you thought wouldn't do that - even harder. But by peeling off at least one cover, you saw many wonderful memories behind it, as slightly tainted as they were.

"I don't know," he groaned, hiding his face in the palm of his hands. "I was stupid. I meant in my heart that you were unlike anyone I've been with before. Not bad but different. And, yes, sometimes I don't understand you but I want to," he rouses to look into your eyes across the room. "I want to. And even if I never fully understand, I would like to make you feel heard and stand by your side nonetheless."

You stare into the sun to avoid crying. Stupid thought as no one ever stared into this glowing orb of light hanging in the sky in order to not get misty-eyed.

"What I said there was, I admit, crass. I was scared because I...with you I don't want to leave. I don't want to call quits when it becomes uncomfortable or becomes uneasy, I want us to grow together. And that scares me because, for the first time, I can really truly get hurt," he exhaled a heavy sigh, voice growing strained. "So when you left, no explanation, just gone in the wind..." he glimpsed over the horizon. "Anyway, I recognise me cornering you like this is wrong but...if you ran away because you felt unloved, I just wanted to show that I'd be chasing after."

Hoseok wiped at his eyes and briskly got up.

"But if you didn't and don't want me, I'll open the doors," from the pocket of his jeans, he fished out a glinting silver key. "I really just wanted to memorize you for as long as I could. I'm sorry."

He opens the doors and you called out -

"Hoseok!"

JIMIN: The phone kept ringing. You'd put it on mute but even so the bright light of the flashing screen stirred you awake and after a brief wrangle of putting the chip bowl actually on the table nearby, kicking your leg free from the grasp of the blanket, you simply watched it ring. After eventually growing into silence, it went to the 45 unanswered calls like the rest. You sighed turned to your side and slid the eye mask over the face, trying to somehow coerce yourself into immediate and indisputable slumber.

This was just the outward manifestation of his bruised ego, nothing more. You don't think anyone had ever rejected Park Jimin so this must be a new, unfamiliar feeling, one he'll get over in time and then maybe even laugh about it years down the line.

I mean, come on, you thought to yourself cutting the words like bloodied post-it notes in your own mind. There's no such thing as a rich handsome guy genuinely falling for someone so...

The disgusting words sprung too freely on the tip of your tongue so you settle for normal. To not at least give into self-hatred so easy. Such was the plot of romantic dramas and fantasies hence why it was fiction. Rich, beautiful people went for other rich beautiful people, normal folks went for normal folks. Dogs did not mix with chickens or pandas with capybaras. It was simply nonsense.

But as you close your eyes, the memories make it harder to be as clinically objective. All too well, you remember. His hands on your face, grasping as though he feared you would leave.

"Why don't you ever believe me?" he asked with heated desperation. "Nothing I say is ever good enough. Nothing is trustworthy!"

You tried to pry him gently away.

"Because how can I believe you? Look at yourself and look at me. This is not even opposites it's...unfathomables!"

You wished partially that he'd go to the good old Mr Park of the beginning, one who'd walked up to you in a cafe and asked if for a fair amount of money you'd be willing to answer his phone and pretend to be his girlfriend. And since the sum he called out was the rate of an onerous monthly rent, you'd plastered the sweetest voice you could in a matter of seconds with no questions asked.

When thinking of all the troubles when he approached you again, completely by accident, you had thought to yourself jail, assault, violence, even cannibalism for good measure, who knew what kind of sicko this stranger could be, but never you considered you'd be scared by the simple fact that he was in love with you. He had been cold, rude and brusque at the start and you had been fine with that, your "job" was to sometimes go to family dinners and lie which while not moral was not a crime.

Only then he invited to accompany him to his office, then to trips, then to movies and then one day you wake up in your bed and Mr Park, once a cold and resigned man, drenched in his own riches, is now making pancakes on your old stovetop and smiles the kindest smile you'd ever seen and asks if you slept well.

How could it not be a scary sight?

"I love you!" he shook you by the shoulders, not hard enough to hurt but as if trying to shake the bad thoughts out. "But you hate yourself! And you never listen!"

"They'll think I'm a gold-digger!" you cried. Just looking around his apartment made you sick. You couldn't even afford his carpet. How could he love someone with whom he shared so little with? He had never known the feeling of counting one's last money to afford bread or not buying something out of impulse. And you had never known the etiquette of polite brutality, of caring about who sits where because one word spoken at the wrong crowd table could destroy your entire livelihood. Love didn't change two profoundly different experiences.

"They don't think that!" he argued. "My parents wanted me to be with someone-"

"Poor?" you interrupted finally wrenching yourself free. Why was he so cruelly saying these things? He will just make you love him and then dump you with nary concern. Like others and then in time you will always think that you should have known better. Should have gotten rid of those rose-tinted glasses sooner not when they're smashed in shatters on the cold concrete.

"No!" Jimin immediately counters. "Of a different social circle! And even if they did, I don't care!"

"But the press-!"

"I don't care!"

"The rest of your relatives and friends-!"

"I don't care!" he yelled back, ripping at his hair, faint tears lingering in his eyes. "What will it take for you to believe me?! Please, why don't you believe me?"

"I can't!" you shrieked back in a sob. "Because better you not love me at all than fall out of it after some time! I don't want to be loved! I don't want to trust! I just want to be alone!"

Alone is what you were now but it felt no better.

"It will," you calmed yourself aloud. "Give it some time and your life will return to how it was."

Boring. Monotone. A single actor performing the most dreadful play to an audience of no spectators. You sniffled punching the pillow. Stupid Park Jimin waltzing into your life and making you think you were not the person you saw in your mind. That you were better. But how can you be when you're always "you"? A nameless face in the crowd, a cog in the machine.

No one, really.

As a sudden hand wraps around your waist, you scream and nearly punch the lights out of the affectionate attacker before in the faint streetlight streaming through the windows you recognized Jimin's eyes.

"How did you get in here?" you rustled in indignation.

"I had a key made. Remember? So I could greet you at home after work," he explained sternly.

"Well, you can't be here now-" you tried to argue, even push him out if needed, but he grasped at your legs and wrestled you to sit atop of him. You always fretted you were too heavy but he never objected.

"I'll leave if you order me to leave. Say those exact words: "Jimin, I want you to leave and never return back."

"I want to be alone," you muttered out of force of habit playing with the neck of his shirt.

"It's not the same," he cupped your cheek. "Until you tell me to piss off in my face, I'll keep chasing you every time you run. You think no one would? I will. Over and over again."

Your lip wobbled.

"It's ungrateful work," you breathed as he tugged you closer into a hug, gently swaying from left to right.

"Not to me."

TAEHYUNG: It takes thirty minutes for your aunt, a known stick in the mud, to go from screaming why was there a whole ass adult man traipsing in the apartment her niece should keep an eye on, to peacefully discussing the best nut selection over the kitchen table with eagerly listening Taehyung on the other side.

You were 35% convinced he knew how to do magic, and 65% convinced he was magic. And if he feasibly could he would live in your asshole. And the worst of all you can't get rid of him.

Well no, the worst of all you don't want to.

Coming from a rough environment, no matter how you slice or dice it, that leaves its own impression upon the mind. Yours being - people leave, people lie, people bad. It was easy to go through life, more than two decades of them in selective solitude, having friends but never letting them too close in and soon after they would stop even being friends. It was easy and predictable and while no one cared for you, you had to care for no one, could go where you wanted, how and when you wanted and fully enjoy doing what you liked.

And then this curly-headed now human reincarnated tiger-bear hybrid showed up. Literally dropping out of nowhere whilst still in university, pointing a finger of his frankly too large of a hand at you and then basically saying: "I want that one, that one's mine". Actually no, he did say exactly those words as you remember faintly chucking a dictionary of law at his head, thinking he'll abduct you or something.

And that's how six years later you were moved in. And he had invaded every part of your life, with his kind words, sopping eyes and chiselled chin.

As Taehyung slowly drifted to sleep, eyes falling heavier, his hand is intertwined with yours. And as you'll go to sleep yourself, despite him having his own bed, inexplicably you'll wake up with his breath against the back of your head.

Which was strange you know. You don't even remember agreeing to be friends with him. But steady as a clockwork, lo' and behold, at two in the morning, Taehyung's thigh squirms in between yours and he sighs in content.

Bizarre to say the least.

"Hey, where are you going?" he asks in wonder, poking his very shirtless body through the crack in the bathroom doors, toothbrush hanging from the corner of his mouth.

"Out?"

"Wait, lemme comme with."

"Can I go out on my own? As the big girl that I am?" you huffed dryly, brows furrowed.

"No," he replied with a smile. Then you walk side by side you glare at your hands, swaying together in the warm air.

"A crazy question, one I'm just putting out there, will you ever...leave?" you ask with a faint frown. There might just be this...supposition, guesswork if you will, in your mind that it might just be that somehow you're...Taehyung's partner now.

"Hmm," he makes an act of pondering it out. "No, no, I don't think I will. Unless you kick me out."

Kick him out. Why didn't you? When previous lovers threw fits about Taehyung always being near, you parted with them with nary of guilt because they were...not your rock. Your rock and safe space had become this strange, occasionally vampiric-looking, a cardigan-loving friend of yours. But he never vocalized it. Or so you thought. He was always teasing you about being hard of emotional hearing, now that you thought about it.

You halted in the middle of the sidewalk and he turns to glimpse at you, curious.

"Taehyung...are you...in love with me?"

Astonishingly, he bursts into a peal of laughter.

"I have been for years now," he chuckles light-heartedly. "Though thank you for finally noticing."

"Wh-why didn't you say something? Anything?"

An expression of deep fondness settles on his face and it warms you like the late summer sun.

"I say "I love you" every day, dumbass. I've chased after you for like six years now. Oh, god," he gasps, sounding suddenly absolutely horrified. "Six years of my life wasted chasing after your stupid head. Oh, I'm an idiot."

"So a moron for a moron, a match made in lower intelligence," you grumble and he snorts at it, crossing the distance once more. When he takes your hand it feels weird for a second. But only for one. You ask yourself what will change and realize - not much.

"That we are Mrs Kim," he coos with a broad grin. "Great! Now I can show you the plans for our shared tombstone I sketched back in the university!"

JUNGKOOK: "He's...will he be staring like that for the entire evening?" your friend asks timidly, voice nearly overshadowed even by the pleasant music of the brunch place. You glimpse over your shoulder to find him aimlessly lounging around. When meeting your gaze, his lips, almost involuntary, spread into a wide grin as his nose scrunches in a manner that is inappropriate for any self-respecting bodyguard. He at least gathers that and sobers with a stern cough.

"Yeah, he's just...my...finance manager," lamely, you trail off but at least they believe it. Considering the last three months it wasn't that believable.

"In a twist of miraculous fate, a poor vintage boutique worker becomes the sole inheritor of the Durhanan Estate," she quotes with a mysterious smile and you squirm awkwardly as you always did when it was bought up. Six years of lawsuits had rendered the luck into a frenzied fever dream one you thought would never come to fruition. Even when the final decision was laid to rest and the lawyers of your great-grandfather popped their champagnes with cheery eyes it all felt so distant. Like a different life. That feeling, you find out, never left.

"Yeah, it's...crazy," you chuckled self-consciously.

"So is the old house haunted?" she questions leaning over the table with keen interest, though every once in a while her gaze does stray worryingly to where Jungkook was standing.

"It's just creepy. It's big...and old," you confess perhaps colouring it with hues too bold, knowing only the answer such as this would satisfy her interest. It was old and entirely too big (who needed thirty-four rooms) but with Jungkook it was less lonely, less of a ghost house and more of a...

No, it's stupid, don't say it, you think to yourself.

"So now that you're rich," she throws a not-so-small of judgemental look over the crystal glass of mimosa. "Will you be forgetting all about us?"

"No," you assure her. "This means nothing. It's just a change of...housing."

But she only scoffs in reply. You think you might not have your best friend much longer.

"You look unhappy," Jungkook reckons quietly, whilst driving back to the Durhanan estate. A nearly 300-year chateau hidden within an unnamed forest deep in the countryside. Once the chief story of the local children's ghost tales and now - your home.

Of sorts.

"I'm just tired," you deny, peering into the rolling landscape of the wilting greenery. A rougher hand suddenly rests atop of yours, stopping them from ripping the skin around the fingernails. Your face swelters with heat and you gently remove his palm.

You were his boss and this was...this was not appropriate.

But Jungkook has other ideas and despite there being thirty-four rooms and whooping nine acres of gardens there's hardly any escape from him.

"My lady, oh, my lady," he calls across the gravel path leading down into the overgrown, ivy-ridden paths. He runs up to you and then gently tucks the bloom of one of the wild roses ravaging the grounds behind your ear. He tries to suppress the smirk on his face and narrows his eyes against the glaring sun.

"You're...you," he stutters. "You doing anything special, tonight?"

You don't quite know why but that question, posed so innocently and presumably out of a need to start a conversation, makes you laugh. It was only you two here, no wifi, piss-poor electricity and the nearest town, a village actually, was thirty-minute drive away and the only thing interesting there was a two-room corner shop.

"Wondering whether we're going to be killed by demons, yes," you laughed lightly.

"I was just wondering whether we could bust out the old reliable solitaire in the library?"

You sigh but it falls more endeared than annoyed.

"Jungkook, stop trying to seduce me."

At first, his face seems to be crestfallen only for a cheeky smirk to appear.

"Trying?" he echoed and slightly leaned into you. A gust of sharp wind broke through the gardens and in sync you glanced at the sky above your heads. A cluster of dark clouds was gathering in the south.

"Let's go in," he urges softly but his body standing behind you flames your back.

A thunder was ripping outside like something crazy, rattling the panes of the window so hard you fretted they would shatter at some point. And the house screamed. Every breeze of the wind seemed to tear into the old floorboards as though they were alive.

Ghosts are not real, ghosts are not real, ghosts are not-

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

You screamed your lungs out, lunging towards the golden candelabra perched on the bedside table.

"You're alright? Are you okay?" Jungkook's voice swims through the dark and you exhale in loud relief.

"Do not! Scare me like that!"

After a moment and a creak of the old floor comes a bashful.

"Sorry."

Another crack of lightning. In the brief flash, you see him standing, unsure but not leaving. It was a bodyguard's duty to protect and he always took his duty quite seriously. Even if this duty was simply to protect you from any unwanted journalists and stalkers where there was none leaving him practically with nothing to do.

"Should I stay here? Protect you...from the storm?"

You raise an eyebrow.

"The storm? That is-"

CRACK!

"Yes, please and thank you," you whimper and not even a second later, the side of your bed dips.

Crickets might as well be chirping at the moment.

"Do you want to hold my hand?" he offers, sweetly, oh so sweetly as if he wasn't a little demon wearing a cheap halo. But still, the house continues its wail. How many lives had been lost in these walls? What stories did they tell?

You didn't want to know and so you agree but as he takes your palm, your hand lands on a very firm set of muscles.

"Jungkook, please retake 9th-grade biology, your six-pack is not a hand."

"It emits the same level of comfort."

He trails your hand higher, over his pecks and lands right on his heart. It drums like a fevered bird underneath your fingertips.

"Why are you so nervous?" you hum and he rolls on his side and settles himself onto the pillow.

"Because I like you. And you like me. Even if you pretend that you don't."

"It's really not ap-"

"Appropriate?" he finishes and then tugs his hands over your waist pulling you closer. "Perhaps not but you know what happens in the spooky old mansion, stays in the spooky old mansion."

His warm palm cups your cheek, stroking it with a dizzied smile.

"And if it doesn't, I'm a really good runner, so you can scurry all you like," a pause. His hand presses you even closer.

© soraviii/soraviie 2022-2023

#bts reactions #bts scenarios #bts x reader #bts x you #namjoon x reader #namjoon x you #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #jin x reader #jin x you #hoseok x reader #hoseok x you #jimin x reader #jimin x you #taehyung x reader #taehyung x you #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #bts reaction #bts fluff #bts smut #bts angst

[an-angel-in-the-garden]

hello! can I get a sort of crossover headcanons? Can I get the obey me brothers reacting to an akira kurusu! mc. They have the same experience with the metaverse and still have arsenal and can probably use arsene in devildom. Id like to see the brothers reacting to weird sexual tension they have with akechi and why their human is so infatuated with another human (akechi) who tried to literally kill them (it's platonic with the brothers and ig a background akeshu but with the mc as the leader of the phantom thieves ig)

This was such an unexpected request but a fun idea. I'm doing headcanons for all the brothers and how they react to learning all of this so hopefully it fulfills your request? Please enjoy. Spoilers for persona 5 and Obey me, set after lesson 16

Lucifer

Out of everyone, is the most understanding about the whole thing though even he has his questions

When you first arrived in the Devildom he already knew that you were a strange human but even he wasn't ready for Arsene to come to your side when you felt threatened

At first he believes this might cause trouble but it won't take long for him to realize how helpful your personas can be

Still expects his brothers to keep you safe but now he's more willing to believe you can handle yourself

That thought is thrown to the side the moment you tell him all about Akechi and what happened him the metaverse

What do you mean he shot you?! What do you mean you miss him!

Will scold you for being so reckless with your own life but won't deny that he feels a sense of pride knowing you rebelled against the corrupt world

He will ask all he can about your team and adventures, he also wants to know about your relationship with Akechi and how it ended

Not the most helpful but certainly someone you can lean on when the pressure becomes too much

Mammon

Is the most concerned about learning everything and he really doesn't plan to keep his mouth shut about it

From the moment he's told to keep watch of you Mammon is freaked out about everything happening in your life

Arsène nearly fights him day one and from then on he decides that you clearly need help surviving in this world

Don't tell him about Akechi right away or he will threaten to keep you locked up in the devildom to avoid anything bad from happening again

Even hearing about what you did as a phantom thief is a lot, sure at first he's all over it, i mean you make so much money from it but then he thinks about just how often you could have died

The more he thinks the worse it gets

Honestly after a few very very long talks about it he's willing to take you on little trips to the human world so you can go to the metaverse together but he's going to be your guard dog

Will never be willing to let Akechi near you after he learns you like him but is pretty cool with the rest of the thieves

All in all not bad but very worried if he's not around you

Leviathan

Honestly thinks its cool, worrying yes, but very cool in some ways funny in others

Everything you tell him sounds like something right from one of his animes and he NEEDS to know more

How did a lame human like you get to do all that awesome stuff, what do you mean you faked your own death? AND plan to fight the government? He wants in but not really

Gives you really good advice when it comes to planning actually, this man is the Grand Admiral after all

Will not help you at all with romance and is in fact very jealous that someone who wants you dead is more important than him but he's not gonna say that

Freaks out just a little (a lot) when he learns about everything you've already done and had to go through but is weirdly supportive

Finds animes that make him think of you so now you both have to watch them as a treat.

Overall is pretty okay with the whole thing and great to go to for planning

Satan

Pretty annoyed at first but thats too be expected getting to know you though he becomes fascinated in the life you've lived

It feels nearly impossible when he first learns the truth but seeing first hand proof really gets him on board

He's going to try and use your persona's for the anti Lucifer club so be ready for that

Hate the very idea of Akechi and will sold you for falling for someone like that, he's also somewhat (way too) worried about the types of people you make friends with

How are you not dead?? A valid question he regularly asks yet never gets a real answer for

Is brutally honest about everything, he pulls no punches and you will know how he feels when it comes to the life you've lives, truly a blessing and curse

Not very helpful but still reliable it's not like he wants you dead or anything so if his advice can keep you around then you have it

Asmodeus

Is the best person to go to about all of this. He wants to hear all the juicy gossip and can give you some advice on getting peoples trust

Tell him all the little details, come to him for help with your confidants Asmodeus is greatest for all things people

Sure most of it is subterfuge but it works out for everyone

He feels genuine sadness for you when he learns about the hardship you and your friends have been through and he really wants you to make up with Akechi

All of the brothers know what it's like to live in a world where people look down on you but Asmo is the most open about it, he understands

Just a good vibe, he's still gonna flirt and joke around but you have his support and backing whenever you need

Playing dress up with the persona's and you, whenever and wherever some of them are just so pretty

does find it a little funny that you just talk around with a bunch of illegal things to sell at some random pawnshop and will never stop mocking you

Beelzebub

Worries a good amount after learning about your life, humans aren't meant to do things like that, what if you get hurt?

He wishes you didn't have to go through such things but he's still going to root you on

Take you out to eat often, if you're doing all that fighting you need to keep your energy up

Will work out with you all the time, keeping you ready for any fight that's bound to pop up in the devildom

Very reassuring in his own way, he gets that life is stressful and you do so much yet get almost nothing return, he wants to change that

Learning about Akechi is a bad time for Beel

He's just sooo worried about you and what happened, really doesn't think it's a good idea to be involved with someone like that

Beel just wants to see you happy and safe, you're practically part of the family and one of his closest friends, if you ever need help you can lean on him

Belphegor 

Gets a really good laugh out it, he's so judgemental about your choices but in a more joking way once you get to know him

He's kind of impressed that you made it this far, after all you fell for his trap yet managed to topple people who have been hiding their crimes for years?

Also wants to use you and your skills against Lucifer and will plan for hours on how to get you to join

Not really interested in your friends but if you start talking about them he listens attentively

Starts to worry when you tell him about the cop and Akechi though he's so down for you just fighting the government more or less

Reminds you to take breaks and no overwork yourself, it's easy to pull yourself too thin between this school and life plus everything with mementos

The moment he learns about what Akechi did he feels a little awful, it's not that different from his own plan and tactics he can't imagine how much it affected you

Honestly these things help him get closer to you, a way for you both to lean on each other and make up for the past

Hello, Hello! It's late I know but thank you to everyone who's waited and been patient with me. It really does mean the world. This fic wasn't fully what I'd been hoping for but I don't mind it. I hope that you like that and thank you so much for requesting it. I have one Bleach request and then my inbox is clear so if you want something feel free to ask. Also! I started physical therapy, I mentioned that I had been in an accident and now I've been getting help for it! I'll be taking care of myself and my family and I hope you all do the same. Stay safe everyone~ Lilly P.S It's my birthday today! I'm now 20 so that's cool

#reader imagine #x reader #reader insert #reader x #persona 5 imagines #persona imagines #persona x reader #persona 5 x reader #obey me imagines #obey me x reader #akechi x reader #goro akechi x reader

[thoughtsandbones]

The flesh you thread between my blood and bones slows down the pendulum of death

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!MedicDoc OC (codename: Blue) 💀💙

WARNINGS: Mention of profanity, scars, fluff, anxiety, medical inaccuracies, surgery, blood, gore and just getting the POV of our friendly neighbourhood masked menace.

Plot: Doctor Ruhari Hari Kaur (OC is South Asian ☺️) joins the 141 again, but this time as their doctor. After the betrayal of Shepherd and Graves, Task Force 141 begins their hunt on his whereabouts and locating Makarov.

PLEASE reblog and like! Hope folks are enjoying the series, I am building up characters and plots, cos I have a lot ideas and just been enjoying writing :D

Song inspo: Don't Fear the Reaper - Tom Jones, American Idiot - Green Day, After Dark - Mr.Kitty, 1973 - James Blunt

I grew up with the OG MW2 game, so there are some references to the old one, so kind of a mix of both the OG and the new timeline... (Also I'm ignoring the OG Shepherd betrayal and keeping in line the one with the new timeline..)

All rights reserved to the rightful owners of Call of Duty Modern Warfare.

spelling and some grammar mistakes as I am bad at times... :/

(FYI: bold sentences... that are like this... are supposed to describe redacted data/info to the plot... ;] .. )

Please do let me know how you all are finding this fanfic! :D

PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10, PART 11, PART 12, PART 13, PART 14 and PART 15 I

Part 15 II

Ghost stared at the yellow sign reading in black NO UNAUTHORISED PERSONNEL ALLOWED BEYOND THIS POINT on the white double doors that led to the operating room where Soap had been wheeled in by both doctors, surrounded by other medical staff.

As he walked behind them when they rushed ahead he heard them shouting all sorts of medical jargon. You were so calmly ordering for mLs of drugs with too many Zs. He looked down at his skeletal gloves, the fake bones once white now stained red with Johnny's blood.

Looking up again at the sign he thought of you. How your hands would also be bloodied, pouring deep into Soap's body, mending him.

You gotta save him he pleaded in his head. He couldn't lose Soap, not now. Not after what they had been through together in Mexico, Chicago... now this.

'C'mon Lt!' Soap's words rang through his skull. Guilt flooded his chest as he remembered moments of how blunt he had been to Soap...

Squeezing his fist tight, Ghost sighed and then walked down the corridor until he found himself a chair in an empty room and plopped the chair right outside those double doors. Sitting down, Ghost winced with pain, the cut sobbed as he sat down and moved his torso.

"Fuuuck" He growled quietly.

Leaning back, he shut his eyes letting the darkness wash over him.

...

Soap was lifted onto the surgical bed. As you and Peyton scrubbed in, the nurses dressed him. Through the window of the scrub room you watched as he was intubated, his bloodied clothes discarded in the yellow hazard bin.

Once scrubbed and prepped, you assume the lead role in the surgery. Neuro was your speciality, this was a spinal injury. This is your arena. Closing your eyes, you breathe in.

"It's a beautiful night to save lives" You say, opening your eyes. Peyton eyes crinkle, a sign she was smiling under her medical mask.

"10 blade" You say and the nurse gives your instrument. You place the edge of the blade two inches above the bullet wound, applying pressure with your index finger you slide the blade across the skin unveiling the flesh beneath.

"Suction" Peyton says and she moves in with the machine that gargles up the blood from the exposed muscle

Peeling back the muscular layers you clamp down areas needing support. Soap's lumbar was one display. No major damage could be seen.

"Bullet must've missed the lumbar" Peyton says

"L1 clear" You say inspecting the upper lumbar region, with your blade you move down

"L2 clear"

"Suction" Peyton says

"L3 clear" you say and then move down

"Suction"

As you looked around L4, there was a sudden gush of blood and the monitors started beeping rapidly

"Found the bullet" You say "Clarissa, Kerrison rongeur" holding your left hand up whilst holding the area with your blade as Peyton continued suction. The beeping subdued.

"Need another pair of hands for this" You say

Peyton gave the suction pipe to the nurse on her right and then took hold of a clamp and forceps.

Cutting away at the connective tissue and muscle you peel the layer as Peyton grabs the shrapnel

"Hard part now.." She said after depositing the shrapnel in dish

Rapid beeping started again. You and Peyton both move together, suction, cutting, threading and assessing any damage to the surrounding nerves.

"Pulse at 120" Clarissa said as she took hold of the forceps from Peyton

"Shit" You say as more blood gushed from the wound which was quickly slurped away from the suction pipe.

"Sutures" Peyton said and she began to sew up the first damaged nerve.

There was a increase in beeping

"Pulse 150"

"Let me do it" You say and Clarissa swiftly gives you a new set of sutures.

After adjusting yourself you look down "Surgical microscope please" And the microscope was brought down to your level and adjusted to your eyeline.

Focusing your eyes through the lense you begin to graft the a new nerve from the damaged nerve, cutting the damaged part and sewing the ends.

This was your element. Fixing the broken. Mending the hurt.

After 5 hours of intense surgery, you and Peyton were nearly finished. The beat of song playing off the speaker was echoing across the walls of the OR. Nodding your head along to the drum of Green Day's American Idiot as you finished suturing the final layer of Soap's skin.

"Nice finish" Peyton said as she cleaned the area "Stats are good" she added looking at the various monitors that beeped rhythmically along with the music.

"Pause music please" You said, one of the nurses pauses.

You cut the last suture and place the forceps onto the tray held by Clarissa.

"Good job Dr Kaur" She said nodding at you. You nod back and return to admire the handiwork which was being dressed by Peyton and another nurse.

"He is stable and stats are looking great" Clarissa says as you eye the monitor. You turn to her and smile, putting more effort to crinkle as your mouth was hidden behind the mask.

"We will take him back to the ICU just for observation" Peyton said as she moved over from Soap to you and Clarissa.

"I'll help take him" Clarissa said "Well done"

"No thank you" You say "Thank you everyone" You say loudly to the rest of the medical team all who respond with a cheerful thanks back.

"I'm gonna head back" You say

"I'll keep you updated, and let you know when the team can see him" Peyton says taking her gloves off as they left the OR, she tapped you on the shoulder and walked off.

Taking off your surgical cover, masks and gloves you wash the grimy sweat off your hands. The smell of strong disinfectant soap filled your nose.

Leaving the scrub room you walk off back towards the double doors where you had rolled Soap in. He was okay now. Had to wait until he was awake to see if there is any nerve damage to his legs...

Checking one of the clocks on the hallway you realise it was 11:49am, you longed for a hot shower and then the comfort of your bed. Walking through the double doors, midway through yawning you were met with a giant man sat in the middle of the hallway. The skull face gave you a jump. It took a few moments to register that it was Ghost.

"Lieut-"

Ghost leapt up from his chair and nearly toppled you over as he confronted you

"Is he alright? Did he make it?" He blurted, his eyes widening at you.

You stare back into his eyes, only just able to make out the blue iris.

"He's okay." You say, reaching your right hand up to to his shoulder.

"His legs, said somethin' abou' his legs" Ghost huffed at you

"Ghost, he is stable and in the ICU, regarding his legs, we will have to wait until he wakes up to assess any damage." You to him calmly

He takes in this information, your calm demeanor. Of course you know what you are doing he thought to himself

"Are you okay sir? You ask

"I'm okay" Ghost said quickly.

You look at him curiously, there was something off about him.

"Okay then.." You say moving away from him.

Ghost moves towards the chair and picked it up with his left arm, the sudden weight made him wince and groan as his unattended wound stretched and weep as he moved.

"Fuuck" He whispered to himself as he set the chair back down and placing his right hand over his wound on the left side of his waist.

"Lieutenant what happened?" You say rushing over to him

"Nothin'" He said trying to push you away. You scoff at him and roll your eyes.

"Ghost, I'm in no mood for bullshit" You say sharply at him. Ghost looked at you, eyebrows narrowed, your eyes slightly red and clearly tired.

He was being rude again.

"I got a nick" He said motioning to his wound looking at your stern face, eyes narrowed. Clearly annoyed. "Can you patch me up?" He asks, your stern face relaxed, softened.

"Right, come with me" You say letting out a big sigh and head out of the RAMC building and then back to the infirmary in Building 2.

Turning the light on you spritz the med bed and give it a quick wipe.

"Get your vest off" You say plainly to Ghost who follows your command. He unties the straps and then sets his vest aside. Attempting to take his hoodie off but he couldn't as the wound caused him to wince further.

"Need some help?" You say as you look over to Ghost who was clearly struggling.

"Alrigh' then" He said and braced himself as you walk closer to him, bringing your hands to his body, rolling the hem of his hoodie slowly and carefully.

Ghost winced again as you went near his waist.

"Might have to cut it off" You suggest looking up at him.

"Go on then" He mumbled, the edge of his mouth curved slightly under his mask.

Grabbing a pair of clothing shears, you cut the hoodie off Ghost, revealing a damp black shirt underneath, his bare muscular arms on unveiled. You look at his waist, and see a patch of dried up blood, parts of his shirt clung to his skin dried and wrinkled.

"Sit on the med bed please" You motioning to the bed and then you walk off to the bathroom to wash your hands. Sleep eludes you. Drying your hands you head back to where Ghost was, who was now sitting crouched on the edge of med bed.

Putting on a pair of gloves and grabbing a stool with your foot you slide close to Ghost, and lift the t-shirt. As suspected the parts that clung to the skin where dried stuck to the wound. An impromptu weak bandage.

"Gonna also have to cut your shirt around the wound, it's dried to the gash"

Ghost looked down at you.

"Can't you bandage it?" He asks and the expression your face held clearly showed he asked a stupid question.

Your look of disbelief subdued, and grabbed the scissors. Ghost's heart quickened. He didn't mind being shirtless. But not when he has been in the field with limited availability to shower, smelt like shit and especially in front of a woman he was interested in...

"Wai-" Ghost began but he was too late, you began to cut his shirt off him, exposing his sticky sweaty scarred skin.

As you cut away at the fabric you notice various deep pink and white scars adorned on his chest and abdomen. Dirt had built up in areas, but it was expected. A shower is the last thing you need in the field.

Grabbing some saline water and a towel, you wash away dirt surrounding the remaining cloth covering his wound. Gently, with your gloved fingers you peel the cloth away revealing the gammy wound. Inflamed and dirty.

"Lift your arm" You ask and Ghost does so and watches as your pour more saline to the wound, his eyes focused on the precision placement of your fingers on his waist, not ogling him.

He slightly winces as your fingers graze over a sensitive area. As you examine the area, you notice it was bumpy, sand had gotten into the wound.

"This area is very inflamed. Lie down, it'll sting as I clean it" You say gently

Ghost shuffled back and then. laid down and then turned his head to watch as you focused on cleaning his wound, your concentration unwavering as you focused on the task at hand. He noticed the lack of talking, just blunt and no joy. But then, you did just finish a 6 hour surgery.

He gazed at your tired eyes, noticed how you rapidly blink every now and then, your mouth pursed, no smile on show. You grabbed some small gauze and wiped the wound.

"This is going to need stitches" You say

"Hmm" Ghost mumbled "I'll let you get to work, I'll just be here" He adds

You laugh slightly and then finish cleaning the area before starting to suture the two layers of fatty tissue and muscle, pulling the flesh together again, wiping away any blood with clean gauze.

Ghost felt himself slip into the bed beneath him as you got to work, focusing on his breathing; in for four, hold, then out slowly for four. Drifting away, away from the chaos of the last 24 hours. Away from the chaos that still looms ahead of him.

<CUE FLASHBACK> 23rd August 2010 Ashfield Base, mess hall "Sergeant Riley" You said as you plopped down opposite your superior in the mess hall with your lunch, the hall was mostly empty, the radio played on the speaker overhead. "Cadet" Sergeant Riley said not looking up from his cup of tea and half-eaten sausage roll. "C'mon sir, you know my name" You quipp at him as you take a bite of your pizza. Simon looks up from his cup and stars at you, your eyes widened and the grin appeared on your face. "Cadet Ruhari" He sighed looking back at his sausage roll. "Cadet maybe no more" You say cheerfully Simon looked up quickly "What do you mean?" He asked "Captain asked if I wanted to come join full time, commit proper into the army." You said "Ah" Simon said quietly "Ain't you got some good brains for uni?" He added and looked at you as you shrugged "Maybe can do it later, but I do enjoy this" You say motioning the space around you. "Nothin' enjoyable about war" He said sharply You were taken aback "Of course not sir, I just meant as in discipline, camaraderie and the protection of one's country" "Hmm" Simon mumbles giving you a slight cold stare with his sharp blue eyes. In that moment of silence, the radio station at base start playing 1973 by James Blunt. The echoes of the piano filled your body and you began to twiddle your fingers to the beat of the drum. Looking at Simon you start to grin, he looks up at you as you begin to mouth the lyrics: Simona.. you're getting older Your journey's been etched on your skin... "Simonaaaa" You sing quietly and giggle Simon gazed at your joyous smile as you continued to mouth the lyrics of the stupid song that made a twist of his name. He watched on as you exaggerated the 'mona' part of Simona and laughed along with you. Simon knew the Captain was going to offer you a place in the army, but he had hoped you would decline. Going out in the field changes people. Changes the best of people. Turns them into someone else. Would you still be the same after you see the horrors of war? Simon wondered as he watched you finally finish the now cold slice of pizza. He would hate to see that beautiful smile disappear.

#modern warfare fanfiction #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x doctor #simon riley x reader #cod fanfic #simon ghost riley x medic #cod mw soap #fan fic ideas #angst #modern warfare ghost #x oc #ghost x oc #simon ghost riley x oc #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x original character #modern warfare fluff #cod fluff #cod mw2

[toastedwrittenthoughts]

OKAY! I have been stressing about these titles all day and I need to say a few things about them.

Spoilers for the titles the rest is pure speculations and predictions!

Episode 9!

Okay... So to start my predictions, I have to mention where we were left at the end of Episode 8...

BOTH Buddy and Richie were arrested and are in Jail.

Jane was scolded for being indecisive about what she wants.

Olivia walked into Mr. Daniels house without her PL Jacket (cue aggressive vomiting noises).

Nancy was left to clean up the mess and looking broken. (Like the window. Symbolism!)

Cynthia probably feeling multiple conflicting internal feelings. (As she should.)

So here we go...

I would want the episode to start with a dark screen... the sound of a cell door closing and amongst several cells they pan over and inside one of them is Buddy and Richie. Not together, but separated...? Its like the saying "put them in a room alone together and let things sort itself out." I'd hope that its been a little while and Buddy has sobered up some but regardless, the two of them just sending scathing looks between eachother after maybe getting in a few actual hits against eachother. (Poor Dot)

Both of them showing signs of discomfort because they're still kids, IN JAIL. But out of the two of them, Richie is a little better at keeping his cool. After all, he's used to detention, fights and breaking rules. I know its not the same, but if anything... Id be willing to bet that in this situation, the other potential 'jail occupants' kinda look like him.. People from the 'wrong parts of town'. Kind recognizes kind. The other occupants hear Buddy's last name and start digging at him and his dad and Richie tells them to back off. Again, kind recognizes kind and they leave them alone. Buddy gives a halfhearted 'thanks' and Richie just shrugs.

Buddy would be pacing, no doubt muttering about how his dad was going to react about all this when he comes to get him. Richie is probably terrified at how his parents will react and coming from a European household.. Phew.. It ain't gonna be pretty. Richie would scoff, telling him to be quiet, that 'they wouldn't be here if Buddy hadn't been drunk and acting like an ass. Or if he had just come clean from the start."

"I didn't mean too. It just happened and.." Buddy's head would hang down, looking ashamed. Richie feels bad for him for just a second before Buddy finish with "I never wanted to hurt her, you know. I loved her. I still do."

That I could see would send Richie over an edge. He stands up and even with their height difference would level Buddy with a dead stare.

"That's. Not. Love. You don't let someone spread damning gossip around about someone you "love" and not clear it up because your worried about your own reputation. You don't take advantage of them and say you love them. Its not to be used as an excuse or reason why you think its okay to be an asshole." (Personal thoughts mixed in here.)

"What do you know about about it, Richie? You've never had your parents pressure you to be the best. And then to find out that what you are, what you thought you were, is only a fake image that wasn't even made by yourself. Jane was the only thing that was.. real to me. I mean.. really real."

"And instead of treating her like she deserves, even after you found out about the election and shit, you thought of just yourself and let her get buried." Richie scoffs and shakes his head. "Look Buddy, I may not have been born and raised on your side of town, I may not have been pushed to be the best because no one expects me to be; but we can both agree that Jane makes us want to be better. But if your dad is the one that's trying to mold your life in a way you don't want it to be, then maybe you need to take the wheel and go where his reputation hasn't reached and make your own."

Or something like that. Either way, I would want them to verbally have it out. And IF Buddy's dad comes to bail him out, because reputation and shit... Id want Buddy to look back at Richie in the cell and tell his dad that 'Richie wouldn't be here if it wasn't for me. Either we both go, or I don't at all." Buddy's dad sees that he doesn't budge and agrees. I like to hope that between Buddy and Richie, they aren't even, but it would be a damn good start.

Jane is going to do some repair work and I get the feeling that she will be one of a few people who will ask the question "You're dropping out of Rydell?" And potentially for a few people.

Nancy could get the urge to leave because of her fashion calling and the fact that the Pink Ladies are up in the air but is worried that because of her crush, she will lose sight of what she really wants to do and is tempted to just go. But instead of pulling a Frenchy, she stays.. I don't know how, but that's the feeling I get. (Like have your cake and eat it too.)

Olivia could think about leaving/dropping out to another school so she moves forward with Mr. Daniels (at his mentioning's or insistence) and to not 'jeopardize' his career, marry him but like in secret. Gil could hear word about this and HAULS ASS to find her and convinces her that she is worth more than that, that she is worth loving out loud and proud. Like He does. Something about the way Mr. Daniels acts around her now could make her feel uncomfortable and together, they go to McGee and get his predator ass fired. Done.

Cynthia would be torn about where she fits and after some agonizing, thinks she should leave and changes her mind when she gets her TBird jacket. And starts making things better by apologizing to Shy Guy because HE IS SWEET AND DESERVES AN APOLOGY!

Mrs. McGee could ask that to the Principle who is leaving because he got a different job opportunity and puts her in charge. Or Mr. Daniels because he also needs to go. (Im hopeful)

Over All...

I think Buddy will be the one to leave. Personally to me, it would make sense. Not because it would take him out of the whole Buddy/Jane/Richie triangle, though I would not be upset about that at all. (Richie is my boy and doesn't need to go, I will die on that hill). But from a realistic point of view... If I wanted to get out from my meddling fathers shadow, and I would after hearing everything he has done, I would say that leaving Rydell to go to another school to restart would be the way to go. Somewhere his father would have little to no influence over and he could start anew. It would also kinda go with Buddy's character since when the opportunity to fix things come up, he kinda detours and takes a road to avoid them and only comes clean when they fall all but at his feet and he's in a corner. (Frosty Palace.)

Episode 10.

Since I am unclear about the school timeline right now (like is it nearly thanksgiving for them as students? Is the year halfway done?) I would like to think that they have a fall fair or something. If my predictions are correct, Buddy will leave Rydell at the end of their first semester. But before they go, they gotta race.

Susan I think will race one of the Ladies, most likely Olivia because she looked MAD in both the trailer and pictures and Olivia would be the focal point of that anger.. Dot will be their flag girl because she supports Susan and the gangs will cheer for them as they race. Susan could lose because they need to bury their hatchet somehow. And with the Win, Olivia gets a car, and therefore the Pink Ladies get their own ride. Susan admits defeat, apologizes and like Buddy with Richie, isn't making them even, but it could be a place to start.

I still think Gil's gonna race, I almost say he needs to just for the classic victory (first) kiss between him and Olivia. (Fingers tightly crossed.)

But one thing I was saying when a friend of mine and I were in a debate was that there was talk about the title having two meanings. 'Racing For Pinks.'

Pinks is the Pink Ownership slip but it could also mean the Pink Ladies. Buddy/ Richie, Gil and Mr. Daniels (though I doubt it) and such. They could win the girl. And I gotta say both yes and no to this thought. One thing that I would want to be said, whether it be the TBirds, the Pink Ladies themselves or hell, why not both is that they can't be 'won'.

To be with a Pink Lady isn't part of some... game. You cant race and get a girl, I'm sorry but that to me just wouldn't be right. These girls are breaking norms and fighting the system, breaking stereotypical boundaries. Cynthia says that to have two people race for you is AMUSING. At the risk of sounding two faced, they aren't trophies to be won but.. they kinda are. But they cant be bought or traded.

No, the Pink Ladies are EARNED. Period.

The TBird and Pink Ladies alike EARN their jackets and reputation, so why shouldn't their affection (love, devotion, romance, relationship take your pick) be any different? You put in work, you get the girl. And so far, I think that some have. While others are still working things out.

We also haven't met the Scorpions, the rival gangs of the TBirds in OG Grease. Or Zuko and Kenickie for that matter. And if anyone reads my long posts, that's where the 'scenes' I think up could go here with Richie and Gil meeting them..

But if I follow my gut, I think that if Buddy leaves, he could go to a different school, start up the Scorpions because he's acting out against his dad and the beef between the Birds and Scorpions is pre-established for the future.

Regardless of how things go... JOIN ME IN HOPING FOR A SEASON TWO!

Again, this is a mixture of spoilers, speculations and predictions! Id love to hear yours! Comment or message me directly the door is always open!

#grease: rise of the pink ladies #jane facciano #richie valdovinos #richie x jane #olivia valdovinos #gil rizzo #olivia x gil #shy guy #potato #potato x nancy #nancy nakagawa #cynthia x lydia #cynthia zdunowski #greasers #pink ladies #the tbirds #personal thoughts #predictions #I hope they make a second season

[polutrope]

Could you do 31 for the holiday prompts and curufinrod? (Or if you feel up to it curufin/finarfin? If you don't want to no pressure!)

31. An unwanted gift Thanks for the prompt! Curufin and Finrod not a couple in this AU but I thought it would be fun to dance around the idea, so here we have ~1k words of them being both very incompatible and the best queerplatonic co-parent roommates. Posting these to AO3, here. Prompt list (prompts closed). Beleria Cast of Characters

“I think we should get each other presents this year,” Finrod had said, one evening after Celebrimbor had gone to bed.

“Oh?” Curufin had said, and shrugged. “If you want, I guess.”

And so here he was at Kitchen Corner browsing the shelves for something that he could give his roommate. He picked up and rotated a pepper grinder in one hand — they didn’t have one of those in the apartment, perhaps? But no, no one really needs a pepper grinder, when one can buy ground pepper. It was a luxury, and Curufin could not afford luxuries, not yet, one day — forty dollars?! He set it back on the shelf.

They were only that: roommates. Yes, recently Finrod had started playing a more active role in Celebrimbor’s life, and yes, Curufin appreciated the feeling that he was not entirely alone in raising his son, but he was not interested in anything more. He hoped this “exchanging gifts” thing was not some wily manoeuvring to win Curufin’s affection.

Curufin scoffed. He’d never been with a man and he certainly didn’t intend to start with Finrod. But he wouldn’t put it past Finrod to try.

It was hard to tell with Finrod. He was the sort of person who made everyone believe he was in love with them. It was the way he poured the whole of himself into every moment of connection, the way he remembered the little details about you, such as whether you took milk or cream with your coffee. He paid attention. Curufin respected that.

He was also insufferably cheerful. His thoughtfulness, in Curufin’s opinion, was more about the self-satisfaction of being liked that a genuine desire to help anyone.

Curufin frowned and checked the time on his phone. This was taking too long. Forget it: it wasn’t like him to be thoughtful. Finrod could have the same gift Curufin had bought last month for all his brothers.

*

Even though no one spent Yule at the apartment, Finrod had set up and decorated a tiny fake tree. Celebrimbor seemed to enjoy it, so Curufin had bit back any caustic remarks on it. 

Finrod also liked to wrap gifts for his friends and family early and pile them underneath it. “It looks merry!” he’d said when Curufin asked why. The pile had grown over the last week, and Curufin had gotten into the habit, on mornings when Finrod was at work at the coffee shop, of going through them to see what had been added.

There were two new gifts today: a book (obviously) for Celebrimbor, wrapped in the brown paper Finrod and Celebrimbor had decorated together, and an unlabelled heart-shaped box of chocolates.

Nothing for Curufin yet. Which was odd, considering Finrod was leaving tonight for his parents’.

At eight p.m. Curufin watched from the couch as Finrod bustled around the apartment getting ready to leave. He still had not mentioned anything about gifts. Finally, Curufin took it upon himself to broach the subject.

“Are we going to open the gifts after Yule then? Either way is fine with me,” he hastened to add.

“Oh!” Finrod exclaimed, abruptly stopping his progress to the bathroom and whirling around. “How could I have forgotten! Yes, yes, let’s open them now. Tyelpë!” he called. “Do you want to come open your gift?”

There was no answer. “He’s playing that game,” said Curufin. “Good luck getting his attention.”

Finrod strolled over and nudged Celebrimbor’s door open. “Hey, Tyelps, I’m leaving soon, do you want to open presents?”

To Curufin’s surprise and chagrin, his son shuffled into the living space a moment later and plopped himself on the couch.

“Here you go,” Finrod said, handing him the book. “And here you go!” He dropped the heart-shaped box on the coffee table in front of Curufin and grinned.

Curufin flushed and said nothing, at which Finrod laughed. “Don’t look so panicked, Curvo.”

He settled himself on the couch between Curufin and Celebrimbor, uncomfortably close. “Come on, open up!”

Celebrimbor opened his first and was so delighted by Aircraft: A Visual History that he began reading immediately.

“Well, are you going to open yours?” Finrod nudged Curufin with his knee.

“Thanks,” said Curufin, “but I think I already know what it is.”

“Do you?”

“Chocolates.”

“Are you sure?”

Curufin side-eyed him. Ah, clever. Re-using a box. Of course, he should have figured that out. A barely perceptible current of disappointment ran under his sense of wariness. He hoped this was not some kind of joke.

He untied the red ribbon holding the box closed and gingerly removed the lid.

“Bubble wrap?” he said.

“That’s not all,” said Finrod, pushing it aside. Underneath was a smooth stone and a lavender essential oil roller.

“Uuhh, thanks?” said Curufin.

“Stress relief!” Finrod announced in answer to his evident confusion. “The stone is for rubbing, to keep your hands occupied. And this oil,” he picked up the vial, “you just roll on your wrists when you’re feeling wound-up. And the bubble wrap is for popping. I find it’s always calming when I’m pissed-off.”

Stress relief? Curufin thought he hid his emotions better than that. He wasn’t stressed. Not so stressed he needed a rock to stroke, anyway.

He shoved the items back into the box and closed the lid, failing to think of anything to say that wouldn’t be insulting.

“So!” Finrod bounced beside him. “What did you get me?”

“Oh, right, yeah.” Curufin rose and retrieved his gift from his bedroom. “Here you go,” he said to Finrod.

“Hmm, let me guess,” said Finrod, examining the long thin box. “Jewellery? A nice tie?” He laughed, and Curufin grunted. “All right, all right, I’ll stop guessing.” Finrod tore off the wrapping (a waste of perfectly reusable paper) and pulled out the gift.

“What’s — oh! A knife!”

“A kitchen knife,” Curufin said uselessly. “A good one. We don’t have any good ones.”

“I see,” said Finrod, his expression briefly troubled before he masked it again with a glowing smile. “Thank you! A gift for the house, very practical. I guess I’ll have to start cooking more!”

#curufin #finrod #curufinrod #holiday prompts #modern au #beleria au #my fic

[wolfnanaki]

Greetings. During my various interactions with the fandoms of GVH and Snoot Game, a common anti-trans argument I frequently saw was that trans people don't need to change their gender to have expressions incongruent with their assigned gender at birth. i.e. Someone can do traditionally male-oriented things without actually being a man. Therefore, they say being trans is pointless because there is never a reason to change one's gender as anyone of any gender can do anything. Personally I can't really come up with a good retort for this without sounding like I support gender stereotypes, so I want to ask, if it's okay with you: What do you usually say in response to people who say that sort of thing?

It's a silly argument that anti-trans people make, because here's an important question: why are these activities being grouped with genders? Why do certain things need to be forced into binary gender roles?

The "trad" crowd would have you believe that things like sports, breadwinning, fighting, etc. are all things that define masculinity, while femininity is all about being a homemaker, servitude, baking, cleaning, stuff like that. But we know that's all bunk because we see people doing the opposite all the damn time. Women who love boxing and chopping down trees. Men who feel at home at bakeries and teaching.

None of these activities have any bearing on your gender because, despite what conservatives will tell you, they aren't gender-exclusive. The way this gets framed by transphobes is insisting trans men are forcing themselves to do more traditionally manly things to prove their masculinity, and the opposite for trans women.

In this framing, they see transness as a performance. As in, they see it as a fake act done by delusional people trying to be something they're not. It is part of what informs their whole worldview about trans and nonbinary people.

Here's my point, short and sweet. Your activities aren't your gender. Your gender, how you find it, how you come to express it, is all you. You define you for your own self. Sometimes that leads you to changing the way you dress, or taking medications, or changing your pronouns, or other things. But it's your gender and your body. No fucker on the internet has any right to tell you what you are or aren't. And they sure as fuck have no right to tell you what hobbies you should/shouldn't have.

On the topic of Goodbye Volcano High, we can actually talk about a character that fits perfectly into this discussion. Sage is a trans man (assigned female at birth). When he was young and living as a girl, his parents pressured him into acting, presenting, and performing traditionally feminine roles, and he couldn't stand it. But after coming out as a trans man and beginning his social transition, he came to enjoy looking and presenting in a feminine way, now that it was a choice he could make instead of an obligation. And like Fang, he doesn't want to have to perform more "masculine" to prove his gender; he's happy as he is.

Sage does not make sense in the rhetorical world espoused by transphobes. And there are many trans and nonbinary people like Sage too; trans men who like being girly, trans women who like being manly, and nonbinary and genderfluid people who can have a whole variety of gender presentation preferences.

There are as many ways to express gender as there are people in the world.

Anyway, shorter version: gender is a much deeper and personal thing that just the hobbies you do. I hope this helps. 🏳️‍⚧️

Sorry if this ended up being longer than what you're looking for, I just find stuff like gender and gender expression fun to think about!

#Nanaki's Thoughts #gender #Goodbye Volcano High #GVH #transgender

[heartbreakprincewille]

What’s your favourite scene of each season and why?

HIII EMMA💜

Oh shit, this question got me thinking for a solid 15 minutes. There are so many scenes ahhhh.

Season 1: The Football Field Scene

I don't think I need to explain this. This scene is so many things at once- a raw look at just how deep Wilhelm's pain was, his hopelessness about his situation coming out in its messy, ugly drunkenness; Wilhelm remembering Simon of all people when he's literally not in his senses, confessing all the storm of his feelings crystal clear: I like you, and that is not fake; Simon showing up for Wilhelm, the fact that even as the audience you felt their relationship sinking into doom before but then there's this spark of hope that ignites within us, within Wille when Simon shows up and take Wille with him, with a soundtrack of "Let's start a revolution, how beautiful it is?". I think that scene was the first catalyst in the story and the first glimpse of Wilhelm and Simon choosing each other against all odds.

Season 2: Wilhelm and Simon discussing Kris in S2 E5

Look, I was this close to put the Valentine's Ball kiss here but the Kris scene is my favorite for a reason.

I think S2, in hindsight, did a really great job of giving us hope for Wilhelm and Simon as a couple, that they have the ability to look past their own situation and try to understand the other's perspective. It is an important foundation for any relationship, and it makes their S3 ending more believable because we have seen them do that.

And as much as I love the Valentine's kiss and how it was such a triumphant rush of emotions for them, it was still a rush of emotions. They had so much issues to course through, and the Kris conversation achieves that. Simon understands Wilhelm's relationship with his position and Wilhelm understands his own accountability in his situation. They are calm and understanding about it, and the beautiful irony is that the subtext of a novel managed to do what direct words couldn't. It's just beautiful.

S3: The lantern-by-the-window conversation in S3 E4

For me, it's the sweetest interaction between Wilhelm and Simon in the whole season because it's the first and probably the only glimpse we get of how their relationship would be after Wilhelm renounced his position. They don't talk about the monarchy or any other outside influences that loom over their relationship, they talk about themselves and their own tendencies because they are so different as people, the way Simon goes all soft when Wilhelm tells him that he learns from Simon (and later we learn that it is true), the way physical touch has been a sort of avoidance mechanism for them in the first three episodes but it does not feel like that in that scene with Wilhelm holding Simon's hand, the silent understanding flowing between them, Simon messing with Wilhelm when we have seen him stifling himself under all the pressure and hate. I don't know, I just love that scene very much.

#young royals #I'm really sorry this got way too long lmao #wilmon