#i love him and he will appear in every post i make

[whispersoftheton]

hiiii!! can i ask for a fic where reader (aka viscountess) is helping benedict with a lady he's falling in love with, but they're basically scheming and secretive and Anthony gets suspicious and a little jealous/upset? thanks!!!!!

Hello nonny! I've been going back and forth on posting this mostly because I don't feel like it's very good but I hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: jealous!Anthony

Word Count: 1.1K

The day had dawned, and it seemed you had blinked the night away after a previously tedious day. Your duties as Viscountess had significantly grown since Lady Bridgerton had started to hand over most of the reigns of the house. With some spare time on your hands, you spent most of your day in the main hall amongst everyone as you poured yourself some tea before returning to your reading. With a hint of mystery in his eyes, Benedict strolled into the room and stood beside you, making himself busy with the book you had just put down on the tray.

"Viscountess now, is it?" He teased in a hushed tone to not alert the siblings of his untimely arrival. Benedict always had a way of easily slipping in and out of sight, with his mama distracted with his other sibling's endeavors.

"It would appear so." You offered him a warm smile while pouring some tea for yourself. "To what do I owe the pleasure, Benedict?" Although most may not understand your relationship with your new brother-in-law, this is how it has always been since your courtship with Anthony. How you managed to keep up flawlessly in between constant banter with his siblings was just one of the things Anthony loved most about you. And Benedict was no exception.

"It seems I find myself in need of your assistance." The unusual hesitance in his voice piqued your interest. Benedict was never one to shy away from a challenge, let alone hold his tongue. "There is a lady who I would like to…pursue."

"As in courting? The Benedict Bridgerton interested in seriously courting someone? Why I'd never thought I'd see the day." Your words dripped with sarcasm, but as you turned toward Benedict, it was clear this was no joke, making you reconsider your teasing, at least for now. "I apologize; I did not realize this was a serious matter." His eyes still trained on the tea before you. "If it is my assistance you require with the matter, I will help you."

"Really?" He leaned back, head up with a cocked brow.

"You are my brother now. And if this lady is as suitable of a match as you are implying, I will do everything in my power to assure your courtship to her."

"You care about me?" His teasing returned, making you resist the urge to roll your eyes toward him, but a smile crept up nonetheless.

"Of course, I care. We are family. Now, let's get to it before I regret this entire thing."

Anthony paced around his office, unable to focus on a single task all day. His desk was littered with papers needing attention, but all he could focus on was how odd you'd been acting as of late. Your presence was scarce around the house, although your duties were always tended to. Anthony missed having you as close by as he was accustomed to since your marriage. Of course, he caught glimpses of you throughout the day, but you always seemed to be scurrying off somewhere. He couldn't help but notice Benedict lingering nearby at every event he'd been to in the last couple of weeks, engaging you in conversation whenever he stepped away, even for a moment. Anthony knew he had no reason to be envious; you were his wife, and you loved each other dearly. But that didn't stop him from suppressing a surge of jealousy at the thought of you and Benedict spending so much time together. Impossible thoughts swirled through his mind, straying him further and further away from any rational thinking until his feet carried him faster than he could stop himself as he called the carriage.

The day was as warm as it was humid; the lush field was decorated with tents showcasing various vendors as the ton gathered. You had spent the better part of your time in the last couple of weeks preparing Benedict as much as possible, covering everything from appropriate topics of conversation to enticing the young woman to yearn for more interactions with him. It had been a challenging task. For every ounce of natural charm Benedict possessed, his soon-to-be lady seemed to be immune to it at every turn. Every challenge she presented seemed to draw Benedict closer. It was daunting, to say the least, but today would be the day. The garden party was the event of the social season, and you knew for a fact that she would make an appearance today. Benedict came up beside you, eyes set on her almost immediately. You glanced toward him, watching intently as his face softened, a smile deepening with every second he laid his eyes on her. Your heart warmed; whatever Benedict felt for this lady, you understood it was exactly what he had been searching for.

"Are you ready?" He snapped out of it and nodded toward you. "Go on then." Benedict readied himself, taking comfort in the fact that you would be nearby. But as soon as he stepped forward, he felt a hand grip his shoulder and move him back toward you.

"My dear brother," Anthony kept his tone hushed so as not to alarm any of the ton members standing nearby. "I will make haste so we may continue with the day's festivities. Care to clarify as to why you are spending so much of your time with my wife?" You and Benedict shared a look, holding back a laugh.

"I'd prefer not to; I'm rather entertained at the moment." Benedict crossed his arms before him, aiming his shit-eating grin at Anthony.

"Truly, Anthony, you could not make any more of a fool of yourself than you already are." You huffed as you turned toward your husband. "May I speak to you in private?" Anthony hesitated before he took your hand and walked you to an isolated part of the lake away from the chaos.

"If you must know, I was asked to help your brother pursue someone. I have been guiding him on proper conversation topics and ways to impress the young lady he has shown interest in. That is all. And if you are indeed insinuating there would be absolutely anything inappropriate happening between your brother and I then you truly do not know me at all."

"That is not what I thought-I-You were only spending so much time with Benedict, and I allowed my temper to best me; I only missed your company." His apologetic look had you softening under his gaze. "I apologize."

"Next time, simply ask before you allow your mind to run rampant with impossible thoughts, hm?" He nodded before taking your hand and bringing it to his lips. Anthony lead you back toward the gathering to find Benedict wholly entranced in a rather enticing conversation with his lady.

"It seems like you did well, my love," Anthony whispered toward you, tapping your hand, which was now holding onto his arm. "Looks like my brother might find his match after all."

Mini Tag List: @bugnug @queenofmean14 @fiction-is-life @thethreeeyed-raven @ssprayberrythings @fatbottomedvirgo @fictional-hooman @sky0401 (let me know if you would like to added by leaving a comment here or dm me if you’d like to be added/removed)

I DO NOT HAVE WATTPAD. I do not consent to having my work reposted, translated, or published to any third party site or app. if anyone sees my work anywhere that is not ao3/tumblr or under any other username that is not whispersoftheton, it has been reposted without my permission

#bridgerton #anthony bridgerton #bridgerton netflix #anthony bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton fluff #anthony bridgerton smut #anthony bridgerton fanfiction #anthony bridgerton x y/n #anthony bridgerton x you #bridgerton season 3 #bridgerton season 2

[jinwoosungs]

{ 181 }

perfect.

jinwoo sung x fem.reader

warnings: i need to write out a sudden brainrot with another thirst post. if n-fw stories make you uncomfortable, or you are a minor, i recommend you skip this story and read my more fluffy stories.

by choosing to interact with this 18+ content, you have consented to viewing something n-fw despite the warnings.

anonymous said: Reader who's insecure x Jinwoo who fucks the insecurity out of them, like wdym you think you don't deserve someone like him? Hecc no I am gonna marry you one of these days 🙄���😍😍😍 LMAOOOOOOO

anonymous said: oh my god… Belly bulge kink + dacryphilia +feral Jinwoo; This sudden thought got me thirsty and tweaking forreal ಠ⁠,⁠_⁠｣⁠ಠ

jinwoo took notice of how oddly quiet you were after dinner. because it was your 5 year anniversary, he wanted to be his usual, doting self, wishing to spoil you with a delicious dinner while surprising you with yet another gorgeous piece of jewelry.

for this year’s anniversary, he gifted you a diamond necklace that had a diamond in the shape of a star, the chain made of white gold. your eyes were awed at such a gorgeous sight, and you were so choked up with emotion that you could do little but return his sweet kiss the moment he clasped the chain on your neck.

you had run to the restroom after dinner, and he recalls giving you one last kiss before you excused yourself. jinwoo had simply been scrolling through his phone, waiting for your return, when he sees someone from his periphery sidle up to him.

“hello handsome.” a sultry voice calls out to him, filling jinwoo with disgust as the woman presses her breasts against his shoulder. “i see you’re all alone, perhaps i can keep you company tonight?”

jinwoo’s eyes glow a threatening purple hue, and he nearly choked the damn wench when he icily tells her, “no, thank you. i’ve got everything that i need with the woman i love. she is the only one that has my heart, so i suggest you back away from me right this minute.”

perhaps it was the tone in his voice, or the way his handsome features were painted in a permanent scowl filled with hatred that made the loose woman immediately back away from him. she lets out a huff, flipping back her long curls as she hastily walked away from him (trying to keep what little pride she had left with her).

but damn, it seemed that the damage had already been done when you reappeared, expression appearing devastated as you clutch on tightly to the straps of your purse.

“sarang.” jinwoo’s voice loses all traces of annoyance and hatred upon seeing you. he gets off his seat, wrapping an arm around your form when he sweetly asks, “shall we head home?”

when a soft hum heard coming from you was all that he hears made the warning bells go off in jinwoo’s head. his eyebrows were furrowed, gently leading you away from the restaurant and back into the car as he drove you back home.

he was ready to open the door for you, but shockingly, you shove open the passenger door first, already marching toward your shared home with your keys in hand. feeling bewildered, jinwoo could do little but watch you with wide eyes.

his hands were clenched in fists, slamming it down against his vehicle, nearly placing a dent within it. you must have seen that damn minx trying to seduce him. he had to clear up all misunderstandings-

he had to remind you that you were the only woman for him.

after spending some time outside, (giving you a moment of solace alone), jinwoo follows after you, with a hand shoved deep into the pockets of his dress pants. locking the door, he goes toward your shared bedroom, pushing open the door fully to see you staring at your reflection with a forlorn expression.

your dress lay beneath your feet in a crumpled mess of fabric. dressed only in your undergarments, he watches as you pick and prod at your every features while running a hand down in a slow and deliberate manner down your body.

admittedly, just seeing you touching yourself (even in such a non-sexual manner) was enough to make a shot of desire course through him. feeling his pants begin to tighten, jinwoo had to let out a deep breath so that he could try to communicate with you properly.

“honey, what’s wrong?” he joins you, remaining behind you as he brushes his lips against your hair. a whimper escapes from your lips when you tell him (sounding completely and utterly heartbroken), “you deserve better than me.”

jinwoo felt his blood run cold just then, lips already parted to voice his protests when you interrupt him, “i saw the woman that came up to you tonight. she was gorgeous, jinwoo. her makeup and hair was flawless, and she had an hourglass figure that women die for. and look at me, i’m-“

“you’re the only woman who can make me this hard.” jinwoo leans down to whisper harshly in your ear, biting down against the shell of it as he purposely presses your half naked form to the spot between his legs, allowing you to feel the tent you had caused beneath you.

“j-jinwoo?”

he lets out a grunt of your name, wrapping both of his arms around your frame before slamming you down against the edge of the bed. eyes becoming dilated with desire for you, he gives your lips a searing kiss, groaning when he feels them part for him as he greedily steals a taste of you. while keeping his lips locked against yours, jinwoo takes off your bra that keeps your breasts hidden from him, uncapping it as he tosses it aside, earning yet another moan from you.

he was panting heavily as he looks down at you with lust and love in his eyes, seeing you nearly naked for him with the diamond necklace the only item that covers your body. such a seductive sight was enough to make his blood go red hot, making his cock grow even more for you.

he adored your kisses, he truly did-

but jinwoo was a starving man-

and he wanted a part of you that tasted so much sweeter than what your mere lips could offer.

jinwoo keeps your body still, kissing down every inch of skin he could reach before settling comfortably between the fat of your thighs. he sees the familiar wet stain against your panties, letting out a dark chuckle as he slowly takes off the damp fabric with his teeth alone. gently gripping at the bottom of your panties with his teeth, he continues to slide it down, allowing the sight of your soaked core to be freed for his eyes to see.

letting out a guttural groan of your name, jinwoo places his lips directly against your slick walls, his tongue diving in to taste and devour your honeyed sweetness as you cling to dear life against the sheets that made up your bed.

jinwoo knew your body better than the back of his own hand. he could play it like an instrument, eliciting the right amount of breathy sighs and high pitched moans as he uses his fingers and tongue to bring you to heaven.

when he feels you spilling yourself into his awaiting mouth, a dark chuckle escapes from him. he allows his lips to press a gentle kiss against your aching pussy before moving himself away from you.

“fuck, you taste so good… i can’t hold back anymore, i just can’t.”

your eyes remained hazy and unfocused when jinwoo simply tears off his expensive clothes, tossing them aside (like trash) until he was left just as bare as you were. while his hungry gaze remained honed in on your face, he could see the tears beginning to form against your pretty eyes.

and that just made his need to claim you increase even more.

with a groan, he pulls you closer to him by your thighs, the mushroom tip of his cock already pressed against your entrance when he immediately thrusts deep inside of you.

you cry out when he begins to harshly thrust in and out of you, leaving you a mess as you lost all of your senses. not a single coherent word leaves your parted lips, only able to gasp and moan and repeat babbles that sounded oddly like his name over and over again.

and jinwoo wasn’t faring any better, for the moment he completely sheaths his cock inside of you, that was the moment he lost all train of thought as well.

the powerful hunter was absolutely mesmerized at how well you were taking him in. just seeing the sheer girth of his erection being hidden inside of your sweet cunt, even bulging against your soft abdomen, was enough to make jinwoo cum right then and there.

such a sight was enough to make him pound into you even faster, muscles clenching in response as jinwoo’s sole purpose was to gift you pleasure-

and gift you pleasure he did.

after a few more expertly timed and angled thrusts, jinwoo could feel your gummy walls clench tightly around him, trying to milk him for all he was worth-

but it didn’t work.

even with the evidence of your sweet juices coating his cock, jinwoo remained painfully hard for you. he gives you a few seconds of reprieve before continuing to pound into you, allowing the evidence of your release to cause the sounds of his lovemaking to be more apparent. each thrust was accompanied with a wet, squelching sound that makes your face heat up considerably.

“jinwoo… oh my god… jinwoo!” your cries of his name were like music to his ears as he proceeded to make love to you, pinning you to your shared bed as your toes curled in response to each and every one of his harsh thrusts felt against you.

how could you possibly think that he deserved anyone that wasn’t you?

how could you not see that he actually saw a future with you, with the engagement ring he had plans on giving to you hidden within one of his drawers?

ah, but perhaps he’ll save his proposal for some other time-

a time where he isn’t busy filling and splitting you open with his cock as he brought you to paradise throughout the entirety of the night ♡

a.n. - i need to get this thirst post out of the way and out of my system, so please forgive me 😭🙏🏻 completely unedited bc this is so self indulgent agslggkhssdhf

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

#sung jinwoo x reader #sung jinwoo x you #jinwoo sung x reader #jinwoo sung x you #solo leveling x reader #solo leveling smut #.stories

[lalalychee-x]

DR. RATIO D!CK PROFILE ft. headcannons

♡ WOOO! Per request, next up in this series is DR. RATIO! Didn't expect this series to gain so much attention; should I make a masterlist for it? Anyway, yk those comments that pop out hex codes about character's cock? Yeah, well, I'm going to do that too, and this time its our mundane know-it-all...!

♡ BASICS

girth: #edcfc7 body: #fae9e3 tip: #e8b3a7 size: 7inch-7.5inch texture: pale veins +veiny enough to feel them, very little curve thickness: 2.5inch foreskin: no

DR. RATIO! 's dick is probably well kept as he can't stand mess or imperfections. Looks like a work of ART, goddamn, like its perfectly sculpted. And he's generally one of the thicker ones.

DR. RATIO! 's cock doesn't curve much or at all, again looking pristine perfect. He's overall quite pale, and his tip is pale-reddish, thick and long. It takes up a good 2.5inches of his length off the bat...

DR. RATIO! is awfully stubborn though. He often just plays dead-serious, even if he is aroused by your antics. It does take him a lot of SHEER WILLPOWER to not give in.

DR. RATIO! However, expanding from that, the second he can get off of work, he has you bent over his desk and pounds you from behind. He likes tracing circles on the curve of your back, down your spine to feel and massage every curve and every bone. He grips and feels every lock of hair on your head as he pulls on it gently from behind. 

DR. RATIO! Heavily going off of that previous point, he just loves watching your figure shiny with sweat and fluid beneath him. He definitely mutters in awe at your figure, chanting how beautiful you look and worshipping your body as he fucks you: as if you were the most alluring piece of art to him.

DR. RATIO! is, despite appearing cold, praises you a lot; almost worshipping you when he sees your figure on display. He'll trail his hands (and occasionally his tongue) up and down your body, massaging and groaning with a furrowed expression as he does so. Will be constantly mutter praises and compliments breathlessly as he touches you.

DR. RATIO! is, however, a very work-orientated man. You often tease him, almost begging him to give you a bit of attention when he works long hours, or when he keeps saying 5 more minutes when you come to pick him up from his office to have lunch with him. But its not like you back down easily either...

DR. RATIO! Oh boy, you're lucky that his collegues respect him enough to not say anything when you've finally had enough and tug on his belt from under his desk. You purposefully choose when he is on a call or meeting of some sort with his camera on, before being agonisingly slow with sucking him off. You consider it a bit of payback for his cold nature (though, he is comforting at heart).

DR. RATIO! is (not so) surprisingly easy to annoy, but it's also (not so) surprisingly easy to get him hard. Just a few pumps and a couple of licks from you, means he's already having to mask his flustered state; you can tell because he starts furiously tapping his foot under his desk beside where you're sat. Out of view of the camera and the people he's talking to, of course, but he slips up once in a while. "Yes, I think we should — ! Mmh —! Hrgh, s-sorry. Repeat t-that?"

DR. RATIO! takes things slow in general, enough that he can savour you and really take in all of you, like he was analysing you. He relishes your figure as foreplay, kissing you in strange places, but it's pure admiration. To be admired by Dr. Ratio is insanely high praise.

DR. RATIO! ...How do I even describe balls?! Like, at all?! Am also working on a small Ratio x reader fic soon! Keep an eye out and tell me if you'd like that <3

Feel free to ask for other characters!

♡ Please do not modify, steal, plagarise or post on other platforms without asking. Thank you!

#lychee<3 #lychee's sillies #hsr #hsr smut #smut #head under the desk!! #dr ratio #veritas ratio #hsr x reader #hsr headcanons #heacanons #hsr veritas #ratio x reader #ratio hsr #honkai star rail

[bbyobbyo]

You don’t usually wake up at the same time as Jihoon, but he definitely makes sure that you wake up with him everyday.

content: fluff, established relationship, idol!Jihoon x non-idol!reader, domesticity, spotify as a plot point lol

wc: 1.6k

note: inspired by this reddit post which i thought was 100% something jihoon would do especially now that i know he uses spotify lol. i feel like im the only one who finds it hardest to write for their bias, i get really in my head about whether or not im portraying him in the way I want to. i’ve never written idol!au either (bc i think it’s easy to overdo) which only adds to me overthinking ahhhh but hope that you guys enjoy this one !! as always feedback or comments are appreciated 🥰 I read all of them and they make me so happy hehe

Jihoon swears there's something magical about waking up to a calm and quiet morning. The sun is barely just rising, blanketing the world in a soft twilight that cuts the dark blues of the waning night. And in his bed, he finds something equally as magical: your soundly sleeping figure next to him. The world is silent except for your steady breaths, and he has to take extra caution to not fall asleep again if just to enjoy the brief moments of tranquility like this during his otherwise busy life. Eventually he gets up to start his schedule for the day, taking one last look at your peaceful slumber in fondness before he closes the door behind him.

Make no mistake, Jihoon loves his job. Having 13 members in his group is fantastic, except when you realize that 13 people requiring styling and wardrobe before every public appearance takes a lot of time. His mornings may start early, but in reality most of his time is spent listening to music in salon chairs and dozing off in waiting rooms.

In fact, it was in the middle of getting his makeup done when he discovered that around 8:20 am every day, his Spotify (which he uses to listen to his daily Bruno Mars Mix playlist) stops playing on his phone and switches to… the speaker at home? He bought a new speaker a few days ago because the last one you had was on its last legs from years of use, but if it’s malfunctioning already then he might have to look into getting a new speaker sooner than he thought.

Upon closer observation, Jihoon also notices that the song has changed — it’s playing one of his songs, your favorite one actually. Immediately he realizes what happened. He contemplates shooting you a text to tell you to disconnect him and just sync your own Spotify account to the speaker, you’re home more often than him anyway. That thought quickly disappears, however, as he imagines you getting ready for work listening to the sound of his voice and genuinely enjoying the music that he pours his heart and soul into, he can’t bring himself to disturb you even for a moment. His eyes soften as he stares blankly at the Spotify home screen, headphones now deafeningly silent. Surely, Jihoon decides, he can live without his Bruno Mars Mix for just a while longer.

-

You sometimes wonder if your boyfriend is magic. Although a good morning text has been standard in your relationship since the beginning, it's starting to concern you how perfectly timed it is.

Normally, your morning routine is simple. Wake up. Get out of bed. Bump some tunes. Check your notifications. Brush teeth. Wash face. Get dressed. Pack bag. Leave the house.

You’re usually the one to text him good morning given your later wake up time, yet he’s been beating you to it lately. Yes, he knows you set your alarm 8:15 everyday because it's “the perfect amount of time you need to get ready and still make it to work on the dot”. But that doesn't explain why “rise n shine babe :))” pops up on your phone as you brush your teeth on the days you wake up early, too.

[8:06 am] you have to tell me how you do it

[8:06 am] Do what????

[8:07 am] im onto you mister 👁👄👁

[8:07 am] 👍👍👍

You spiral through the possible scenarios in your head: he has your location, but that wouldn’t tell him when you woke up right? Does your icon move around on the map? No, the location data isn’t that accurate. Maybe when you open your phone, your Facebook status shows that you’re online? No, you know for a fact that you both haven’t opened that app in years. Hmm, did he plant cameras everywhere in the apartment? Sure, you get the security utility of it but if he did it without telling you, there would be some SERIOUS things to talk about, maybe it really is all just guesswork and coincidence?

Sigh… you’ll get to the bottom of this eventually.

-

Jihoon doesn’t plan on telling you, but rather wants you to figure it out yourself. After all, he’s been dropping so many hints already. Your chill hangouts at his studio have a gentle hum of your favorite songs as background noise. He purposely asks you about the new albums of your favorite artists that, surprise, he’s already listened to. He even makes it a point to remind you that the speaker at home is hooked to his account every now and then.

Sometimes, he swears that you’ve figured it out and were just messing with him when you make little comments about your his song choices like “Really babe, you listen to your own songs this often? Are you sure you’re not a narcissist or something?” But besides these moments, there was no indication that you knew about his secret morning routine as you questioned him regularly about his tactics.

He has to admit, it was kind of amusing to see you growing increasingly suspicious of how on earth he figures out when you wake up, being particularly fond of the cute annoyed face you make when he tells you “No babe, I did not put an Air Tag in your pajamas, you barely sleep in clothes anyway.” Even your pout is adorable as you pretend to give him the silent treatment, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to keep it up for long. His little secret is safe for another day.

-

Jihoon has been working brutal hours lately. As deadlines for the upcoming albums drew near, his days start earlier than ever and end equally as late. However, the one thing he can always count on is coming home to you waiting for him.

It was the night of the new album release and you were more excited than usual, greeting him at the door like a lovesick puppy as soon as you heard the door handle turning. “Hi love, what are you doing up so late?” he pulls you into a quick kiss as he sets his stuff down.

“I wanted to wait to listen to the new album with you so you could see my reaction to it!” your eyes were beaming with enthusiasm. Jihoon’s heart swells at the sentiment, knowing that his partner supports him and his passions with such sincerity. You excitedly motion him to join you in your shared bedroom, full of anticipation to hear the fruits of your boyfriend’s labor for the past months. “Alright, you’re not allowed to be disappointed then” he jokes as he pulls out his phone, quickly finding the recently released album and making sure the volume is high enough before tapping the first track and handing it over to you.

Only a few seconds of the song passes before an idea flashes across your eyes. “Wait, let’s play it on the speaker!” you interrupt. You’re on your feet in seconds and before Jihoon could even reach over to press pause, you’ve already commanded your home speaker to play the track out loud. The music immediately ceases on his phone and switches over to the speaker.

Shit, he’s done for, he thinks to himself. He studies your face carefully for any indication that he’s been found out but surprisingly, your attention is laser focused on the melodies now reverberating around your apartment. You’re mostly quiet during the songs but the rhythmic nodding of your head and facial expressions are a tell all of how much you enjoy each track that plays, contorting in a myriad of impressed shapes as killing part after killing part reaches your ears.

As the album comes to an end you look like you’re about to burst at the seams. Your boyfriend can’t control his smile as compliments and detailed thoughts flow freely from your lips for the rest of the night, not ceasing even as the both of you walk through your unwinding routines together. God, you love comeback days. The elaborate music show stages that you will undoubtedly watch later that evening has already been pre-recorded, giving you precious time together in the morning before his schedule whisks him away from your arms once again.

As you get ready for bed, you drift off to sleep knowing that tomorrow, for the first time in what seems like forever, you can finally tell him good morning in person before he can.

-

Your alarm rings at 8:15 am. Jihoon doesn’t need to be up this early, but he would do anything in order to be the first thing you see when you wake. You roll around in his embrace and press a kiss to his cheek. “Good morning” you both whisper to each other at the same time, sending you both into a fit of giggles as you argue who said it first.

Jihoon watches in adoration from the bed as you so naturally go through your morning routine, one that he misses out on more often than he would like. Today, you forgo your usual morning songs as you queue up your personal favorites off the new album, much to his delight. He tries his best to burn this scene into his memory as you gather your things and prepare to head out, giving him one last kiss. You’re about to unlock the door when you pause in your tracks.

“Baby?”

“Hmm?” he hums back from the bedroom.

“Enjoy the speaker, I can’t kick you off today.” you say with a smirk on your face as you exit the apartment, leaving Jihoon speechless.

#seventeen x reader #woozi x reader #seventeen fluff #seventeen fanfic #woozi fluff #lee jihoon x reader

[weskie]

Eye of the Storm (Albert Wesker x gn!Reader)

post spencer confrontation, what if wesker was loved and allowed to feel the pain of his emotions | Fic Directory

You find him in a fit of rage.

He’d been gone for a few days. A business venture, he’d said.  One you weren’t permitted to join.

You never expected this.

You hadn’t even heard him arrive. No greeting, no shutting of the front door nor footsteps that normally tipped you off to his presence. 

You hear a heavy thud, not unlike something being slammed against a wall.  Then another, and another, and another.  You scurry through your home toward his office, finding the sounds of snarling growls and shattering, splintering wood to be that much louder.  You’re almost afraid to open the door, but you know you must.

Whatever happened, whatever state he’s in– you swore long ago that you’d be by his side through it all.  The creaking of the door makes him spin around, eyes a sharp red even through the dark tint of his glasses.  His chest heaves with heavy breaths and his fists are balled so tight you can practically hear the creaking cry of crushed leather. He seethes through bared teeth as if to warn you away when you take that first step inside.

You know better.

“Al,” you croon, treading slowly. Glass crunches beneath the sole of your shoe and he appears to flinch the slightest bit.  “Sweetheart,” you take another few steps closer, hands in front of you to show the surrender within your approach.  You don’t know what to say.  It seems as though nothing in the world can quell the hurricane brewing within.  

His unrelenting gaze all but dares you to cross the fray.  Will you be so bold as to enter the eye of the storm? Could you?

As you come closer, you notice the damage.  His black coat is torn in several places, bloodied in others– flecks of it in his hair.  Gloves scuffed at the knuckles. Glasses cracked at the corner, sitting at an odd angle due to a missing nose pad.

You reach up slowly to remove them, pushing them up to rest atop his head.  His breath catches audibly.  Wesker’s upper lip curls and trembles, nose scrunching in a way that you would ordinarily find cute were it not for the typhoon of rage written across his face. 

Your hands trace slowly down his temples to cup his cheeks.  You can tell he’s reluctant to let you touch him.  He doesn’t speak, but he also doesn’t look away.  His eyes drill straight into you.  It’s as if looking away means to be consumed by the same force that split the desk in two and wrecked the room.

“Breathe, Al.” You whisper, thumbs tracing the curve of his cheekbones. You watch him take a shuddering breath before his hands shoot up to grab your wrists.  You wince at the tightness of his grip.

He falls to his knees, head lowered.

You go down with him.

Whatever splinters you’ve landed on sting, but there are matters far more pressing than that.

“I am nothing.”  

His voice is small and so incredibly unlike the man you know.  There is no authority, no edge, no strength to it.  With a hand at the back of his neck, you pull him to hide his face against your chest.  You’re about to open your mouth to counter such a terribly false statement when a crushing grip settles on your shoulders.

“Manufactured.” 

His hands shake despite the force of their hold.  Something had truly rattled him to his core, something big.  Flashes of memories blow through your mind of every time you’d seen that perfect composure crack.  His fury at his old teammate, frustrations with achieving his dream, and–

Like shattered glass revealing an unspoken truth, you connect his words with his most persistent anxiety.

The old man.

You realize why your presence was forbidden, why he wouldn’t tell you his whereabouts nor his plans.

For every night he’d laid awake chewing a hole in his lower lip, tossing and turning, fretting and torturing himself.  Each moment he’d lose the time staring at the wall, contemplating his strange fixation on none other than Oswell E. Spencer himself.  All of the time and resources spent tracking down a ghost.

Had his efforts paid off?

His grip grows stronger as he launches into a tirade– Umbrella, Spencer, Project Wesker.  You merely listen with wide eyes as he tells the tale of his creation, and everything you know of his upbringing becomes so much more sorrowful.  Not merely an orphan, nor a prodigy with exceptional ideals and a mind to change the world.

A product.

An idea.

Another man’s dream.

A borrowed last name.

A boy stolen from those that would have nurtured him.  Taken from the people who would have celebrated his mind, not simply capitalized off of it.  Who would have cared for his milestones and held his hands through each one.

Who would have loved him.

His eyes are unfocused as he tells every detail.  It’s as if he’s gone to hide within himself.

You suspect such a state is far worse than his rage could ever be.

He’s silent for a time, though the tightness of his grip remains.  His mouth twitches, lips parting as if he means to say something, over and over again…

“Who am I?”

The quiver in his voice shatters you.  Those cracks in his poise you’d seen during those anxious frets over finding Spencer, of finding Chris, his disgust with the human race and their penchant for self destruction and cruelty– it’s all split wide open now.  You see the raw nerve that he truly is. And all you want to do is shield him from the pain.  

But you can’t.

The damage is done.  It has been for decades.

The best you can do is hold him close and coo love and reassurances in droves.  You encourage him to feel it.  

Don’t suppress it.  Don’t swallow the pain nor bury it deep to drown in itself.

Feel it.

You card your fingers through the hair at his nape.  He seethes and shakes to hold back his cries.  You still feel the tears soak your shirt all the same.

“Whoever you are,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to his hair. “Whoever you want to be…”

His grip slackens.

“I will love you, always.”

#albert wesker #albert wesker x reader #albert wesker fanfiction #albert wesker x you #wesker x reader #wesker x you #resident evil #dead by daylight #dbd #I just threw this together idk if it's actually gonna be good

[yougavemeyourheartyouknow]

You up? (baby daddy AU: College days prequels)

Baby Daddy Masterlist

Context: this is Post break up.

Word count: 400

Not proofread

—

12:35 pm.

Fourteen month old Gabri is sleeping peacefully in her crib, the room consumed in darkness with exception to the light glow from your laptop. Tired fingers idly typing out yet another senior paper, trying to not type too loudly since she is such a light sleeper. With your phone turned on silent mode, you didn’t even noticed you got a new message till you checked the time.

Miguel 🫤: You up?

Oh god. You bite your lip as you stare at the message. I shouldn’t respond, I’m just gonna end up in his car and either we end up making out and arguing. You thought as you placed your phone face down, shifting your attention back to your laptop…

For only about five seconds until you reached for your phone again and opened the message.

You: I’m doing homework.

You: why?

You didn’t even have a chance to put your phone back down before the screen lit up again.

Miguel🫤: Miss you.

You: Gabriella’s asleep.

Despite your front of resistance at the idea, you have to admit it was hard for you to say no. It was always hard to say that to him. The break up was bad, messy, the only reason you haven’t blocked his number and never show your face around him was because of your daughter.

But… You missed him.

You missed the sharing of a bed with your little bundle of joy tucked between you two. You missed baking cookies at three in the morning when you were supposed to be pulling an all nighter studying. Missed being invited to the same group hang out without the other being excluded, and the way Mj and Peter would coo and all but steal Gabriella away from you both the entire time. Missed the tender kiss, and the whispered sweet nothings, the ‘I love you’s…

Now, everything is different, just you and Gabriella in your old childhood room a few streets away from your old apartment where your ex boyfriend is.

So like always, like every other time he called… you came.

“Hey mom, dad…is it okay if you can watch Gabriella for a bit? I-I know it’s late but Mj and Peter got into a fight and-“

God you hated lying to them.

“Of course honey, go go. I’ll turn on the baby monitor.” Your dad assured you as he got up and out of bed, giving you a kiss on the forehead as he walked past you and back into your room.

You hated how trusting they were of you.

“Thanks, I’ll be back soon.”

You hated how you still craved Miguel so much despite it all.

—

“Hey…”

“Hey.”

You hated the nerves you always got appearing on your his doorstep.

“You gonna come in or just stare at me?” The way his head tilted when he teased you, how you saw the glimmer in his eyes when he looked at you still…

You made sure to lock the door behind you.

TAGLIST IS CLOSED

taglist: @famouscattale @strawberryjuice9 @loser-alert @maomaimao @franceseca-the-1st @mcmiracles @mangoslushcrush @queerponcho @yournextbimbogf @tinybirdhideout @reader-1290 @laysmt @migueloharasoulmate @fruityfucker @pigeonmama @scaryplanetdestroyer @migueloharastruelove @krentkova19 @genny1019 @maiyart @stressed-cherry @haveclayeveryday @leonsbimbogf @bmoplanet @carmison @c4rm1son : @scaleniusrm @ginnysculture @mishaglass @wusyanmee @bunnibitez @miguelzslvtz @dahehow @sinners-98-world @othersideoftheparadise @toyfortoji @yeshajane @yvesbi @hanjisgf @deljojeisbackagain @safixiovi @emmalandry @maxinemus3 @aaaaslaaaan @kenz-ee @esmedelacroix @whattheshock @syler-griffin @comeonatmebruh @xwonderlandresidentx @m4dyy @the-pan-liquid @lilbrababe99 @jxstanemo @badbitchhour @freehentai @sillysillygoofygoose @nj452896 @jadeloverxd @faretheeoscar @ce3stvu @scorpihoooe @blossomofbismuths @nxxav3rs3 @ilovespiderverseeee @ghost-lantern @saaaaaaaaaaaamiiiiiiiiiiiira @lavenderslemonade @rinnako @reirain @nommingonfood @miguelsfavwife @tomalymme @farrowroyale @beckberin-xo @chrishy973 @amberpanda99 @thesmutconnoisseur @candied-snails22 @nanam1 @namjoons-baby @urbimom @cherrycosmos392 @beaberr-xo @night-spectrum @Chrissymodi-frost @electricgg @ohara-whore @coquitokisses @lilmiss-stussy @Sukunash0e

#miguel o hara fanfic #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara au #spiderman 2099 x reader #astv spiderman 2099 #astv miguel #miguel spiderverse #spiderman 2099 fanfic #miguel fanfic #miguel o'hara fanfiction #bd!miguel #baby daddy!miguel #college days prequels

[wordsvomit101]

Reverse AU: What if... 'You' are his favorite fictional character.

Summary: In their mundane human lives, filled with ups and downs, there’s one constant: you. As a beloved character from the pages of fiction, they find themselves irresistibly drawn to you. Though you exist by someone else imaginations, your presence brings a daily dose of joy and inspiration. Now, imagine their sheer amazement when they stumble upon you in the real world, a living, breathing embodiment of their cherished fictional hero.

Warning: A small bit of yandere, not too much. A lot of how they were as human are my hcs. I have a lot of fun putting them in different scenarios as you can tell.

Satan

In his youth, Satan was a notorious troublemaker, causing endless headaches for adults while earning the admiration of his peers. As the leader of a biker gang and winner of many martial arts competitions, he was the coolest guy around—both in school and in his neighborhood. Even his rivals admitted it. His rebellious nature led to frequent clashes with authorities, stemming from countless property damage incidents, noise complaints, and weekly brawls—many of which he instigated. Despite the chaos, Satan was well-liked and respected. His unwavering commitment to his word and reputation as a tough but honorable man inspired loyalty wherever he went, making people feel they could rely on him no matter the circumstances. These traits even managed to draw in the uptight Sitri from another neighborhood, who became his right-hand man and later his manager when Satan turned professional racer.

As a child, Satan was a huge fan of action and sports movies and TV series. Speeding through the streets on his motorbike made him feel alive, and he sought out any media that thrilled him and distracted him from his depression and insomnia. When he wasn't smoking or drinking himself to sleep, his gang members or Sitri would take him back to his empty home. His parents had long given up trying to discipline him and make him follow their path as upstanding citizens—wealthy socialites—in the upper echelon of society. So they left him the house, some workers to clean and cook, and helped with the bills. Aside from that, he was on his own. These movies and TV series made him feel less alone when he didn't have company over. One of his favorites was about a secret military project that endangers a post-dystopian country by turning a biker gang member into a rampaging psychic psychopath, who can only be stopped by a teenager, his gang, and a group of psychics.

Satan both loved and hated this movie. Beyond the action and the dream of owning the red motorcycle featured in the film, he adored a side character who was a close friend of the main character. He was enraged when they died sacrificing themselves for the protagonist. Back then, he deluded himself into believing that he could save that friend if he were the main character. When he confided this to Sitri or Mammon, they only patted him on the back and looked at him with sadness or amusement. He punched and kicked them both. Satan continues to watch the movie throughout his life, despite the gore and violence. Whenever the side character is on the screen, they calm him, and their soothing words lull him to sleep every time.

As an adult, successful and owning his dream red motorcycle, Satan became a respected racer and moved far away from that empty house, carrying only the good memories with him. His love for the movie, especially the side character, remained strong. When he heard about a sequel to the original, he abandoned his photoshoot schedule, leaving an angry Sitri behind, and raced to be the first in line for a ticket. The movie, set in an alternate scenario where his beloved character is still alive, elated him. Whenever they appeared, he grinned with pure joy, his eyes full of love, causing those beside him to be flustered by his radiance. He mentally thanked every animator who brought the character to life and wished he could capture every moment they were on screen with his phone.

Imagine his surprise when, after winning a prestigious motorcycle racing event, he heads to the hotel bar and catches a glimpse of you through the windows—real and breathing the same air as him—walking out of the hotel with your luggage. Heart pounding, Satan races down to the ground floor, but by the time he arrives, you’ve already vanished, leaving him in a mix of anger and disappointment. Yet, there’s no doubt in his mind. He knows it was you, your distinctive look and walk burned into his memory for years. From that day forward, he leverages every connection at his disposal to track you down, enduring months of fruitless searching until Lady Luck finally smiles upon him.

When he sees you talking to the receptionist at his usual gym, he can't contain himself and tackles you into a crushing hug. He savors every micro-expression you make—the way your breath grazes his face, how lovely your voice sounds when you yelp in shock, and how you grip his shoulders, trying to push him away. You are real. This realization sends a shiver down his spine, and his elated grin remains even when you slap him for hugging you out of nowhere. The sting on his cheek feels incredible, and he almost wants you to continue, but he lets you go. Despite his intense desire to carry you off and shower you with kisses, he knows he has to be patient. He has all the time in the world to get to know you better.

Sitri

As the sole legacy of his grandmother, Sitri carries the weight of her expectations when she sends him to the city for a better education, arranging for him to live with a close acquaintance. It was the first time he took the train too. Determined not to worry her, he strives to be responsible: studying diligently, maintaining his health, avoiding trouble, making friends, and being respectful to others. His life is simple yet challenging, easy yet demanding—truly mundane. The bright spots were learning about various teas and the art of tea making from his grandmother, engaging with his fascinating neighbors next door in their apartment complex, and playing drums in his school band with Juno, Belial, and Jiyu.

Until Satan discovered him during a school festival performance and promptly recruited him into the gang, Sitri was used to leading a relatively quiet life, though not anymore after that fateful day. The constant headaches from the trouble he had to resolve for his new gang members and the concern from his grandmother and his boss seemed enough to turn his hair white from stress. Yet, this chaos brought color and excitement to his life, much like discovering new flavors of tea that thrilled his senses. Satan gave him a place where he felt he belonged, new people to care for, and a friend he promised to follow for the rest of his life.

Sitri never met his parents, and his grandmother didn't like talking about them, so he refrained from asking. Sometimes, he forgot they existed unless someone mentioned them. If asked whether he missed them, he would say he didn't; it was impossible to miss people he never knew. However, he did feel a deep connection to a character whom he has always yearned to have in his life from an old drama—which became a significant part of his childhood and adulthood—about a spy agency retrieving a stolen martial arts manual, leading to epic battles and encounters. The protagonist, along with his friends, ultimately defeats the villains and chooses to roam the martial arts world.

Growing up in a retirement community, he was surrounded by elderly folks who treated him like their own grandson, so he rarely felt lonely despite not having peers his age. However, before meeting his friends and Satan, he always wondered what it would be like to have a friend his age to share adventures with. The main character’s friendship with a beloved side character, who taught valuable lessons and provided unwavering support, made him especially envious. When that character left the story, Sitri was deeply heartbroken and sulked for days until his grandmother gifted him a mug with the character's silhouette carved on it by an old uncle at her request. That mug became his favorite for drinking tea, a treasured item that no one else, not even Satan, was allowed to use.

Despite his affection for Satan as a leader and a friend, managing Satan's temper and tendency to get into trouble was no easy task. This challenge was compounded by the constant bombardment of calls and texts from their former biker gang members—most of which were thoughtful inquiries about their well-being, but after an hour of chatting, his phone would become hot from the incessant vibrations. What kept Sitri's sanity intact were the generous paychecks he received for handling PR nightmares and the quiet nights he spent with tea and snacks, re-watching his favorite childhood drama just to see his beloved character's face on the screen. One evening, seeking relief from the headache induced by Satan's latest chaos, Sitri went to a bar. While massaging his forehead and groaning after a phone call with an agent, he heard a clink next to him.

Looking up, he nearly choked from the shock. There you were, sitting next to him with a friendly but concerned expression, offering him a warm cup of black tea. You looked exactly like his favorite character, even your mannerisms were identical. His heart pounded harder as he noticed the simple gestures you made that were the same habits you have in the drama. When you tilted your head gently in confusion at his silence, blood rushed to his face and south. Quickly, before you could leave, he grabbed your hands and, with fervent eyes and equally sweaty hands, gasped out a question for your name, struggling to breathe from the excitement and disbelief. Everything doesn't feel real but his entire body screams for him to never let go of your hands.

Juno P. Cruel 666 Orgasm

Juno had always been hailed as the best in his clan: the most handsome, the strongest, the smartest, the most talented. It was obvious that the clan elders had a favorite among the children, and it quickly became irritating to hear them constantly brag about him as if they had birthed him themselves. They would say he would never disappoint them, that he would honor the clan by joining politics or taking over the family's massive military manufacturing business. Juno hated it. He wished that some of his relatives would hate him enough to challenge his position. What baffled him even more was how his cousins could respect and look up to him despite the unfair comparisons. He liked them and wanted them to succeed, but he wished they would show some dissatisfaction with the situation.

Juno had always admired Satan's powerful aura and leadership. Joining his gang was an act of defiance, but the elders dismissed it as a childish tantrum, saying he would get his act together eventually. Juno felt ridiculous for harboring anger when he was the privileged one, handed everything on a golden platter without effort. From home to school, it was the same. There was even a sizable fan club dedicated to him since middle school, which grew when he became a guitarist in a band. While they rarely bothered him, it was embarrassing when their actions affected bystanders. He never knew how to explain to his friends why he had to apologize for his fan club's behavior. Despite this, he couldn't dislike them; many were good people if you ignored their fixation on him. The club leader even introduced him to his long-time obsession: a novel about an idol group that debuted from an idol survival show. The group had been involved in many controversies since its debut and lost more than half its initial members. However, with the help of their new manager and staff, they turned their situation around and fought their way to the top of the industry.

The novel was compelling, showcasing the intricate sides of the idol world with a great cast of characters and dynamics. Juno's favorite character is the manager who helps the struggling group, sticking by them through thick and thin and giving them a chance to succeed in a harsh environment. He read the novel dozens of times, never getting the urge to throw it away, even when it became worn from being hastily packed into his bag. At some point, he ran away from home with only his clothes, personal items, and the novel when it was announced he would officially be the next head of the business. He drove his motorcycle aimlessly until it carried him to his closest friend's house. Zagan found him sitting outside his family antique store, finally calming down from the adrenaline rush.

Zagan and his grandfather offered to house Juno temporarily until he graduated and found his own place. Juno was grateful and content to stay with Zagan's family, helping around until a new idol project aired on a broadcasting channel. This reminded him of the novel the feeling that it was his calling urging him every day until it led him to audition for the show. He had never experienced anything more intense. Compared to other trainees, he was like a fish out of water. His core beliefs and confidence were shattered countless times by online haters, behind-the-scenes producers, instructors evaluating the trainees' skills, or his endlessly talented peers, some even four years younger than him. It was hard, even with support from his fans, but the situation only made him cling to the novel like a lifeline. He devoured every letter to ground himself, gripping the manager's advice as if he were there with them, following their lead to survive through sleepless nights.

Juno succeeded in the end. His stage name, Ppyong, reached the top spot, and he became the face of the group due to his large popularity and underdog story. Many broadcasting shows wanted to invite him and the group, his gag jokes became viral hits, and the group's songs became international sensations. They faced many baseless controversies from antis, and smear campaigns from his clan, or by the elders and his parents. As well as terrible management teams, and an old-fashioned PR team, but they pushed through. Juno almost built a shrine for the novel since he sometimes relying on the manager's advice and knowledge to navigate group meetings and problems. He was always jealous of how the idol group in the story had the manager with them, and the bitter feeling only intensified each time he reread the story. Even his teammates joked about his obsession in interviews.

He could only cry when he saw you sitting across from him during a fan meeting, gifting him a small box of his favorite snack, Ferrero Rocher. Through his tears and snot, he noticed your surprise and fussing over him in the soft, sweet tone he had dreamed of hearing for years. He wanted to reach out, to take your hands and feel their warmth, but with the eyes watching and the risk of jealous fans targeting you, he restrained himself. He gave a half lie, put on his usual cheery attitude, and sneakily wrote down his number and a meeting location on the exclusive merch you gave him to sign. He drank in your beautiful, blushing face as he winked at you when you noticed.

#what in hell is bad #whb #whb ppyong #whb juno #whb sitri #whb reverse au

[moonstrider9904]

Pretty Thoughts

Part 3 of the Urban Flora mini series

Part 1 | Part 2 | Cross-posted to AO3 | Series Masterlist

Summary: You awaken to two truths - you are unmistakably in love with Crosshair, and you are both the main story on a popular gossip blog. Although this screams destruction for your reputation, what if it's a blessing in disguise?

Tags: Smut (18+ only), alcohol consumption, gossip, confrontation, female masturbation, vaginal sex, oral sex, creampie

Word count: 5.7k

Playlist: Pretty Thoughts by Alina Baraz

A/N: I've had the most fun writing and posting this series! Thank you to everyone who's read, commented, and shared! You are all the best. I hope you like the ending to this mini-series!

The nearly incessant beeping from your holopad woke you up after a night of heavy sleep. You were in that stage between your dreams and consciousness where you were just starting to make sense of things, and you reached to your nightstand for your holopad as you let out a groggy groan. When you unlocked it, your eyes widened at the screen, disregarding its glow on your pupils.

You had over 200 notifications among your messages and socials, and you quickly decided that couldn't be good.

You sat up on your bed and turned on your lamp - the sun was just beginning to rise outside, and the blinds in your bedroom blocked most of whatever light could come in anyways. You crossed your legs and held your holopad in front, and you opted to check your direct messages from any friends. First, you checked the messages from your closest friend, Pen, whom you rarely saw, but you could always confide in, and your heart nearly leapt from your chest when you saw the picture of Crosshair wearing the outfit he had on the day before, looking at the camera with a hint of confusion, but still composed and handsome as he normally was, and you recognized the area he was standing in as the street just outside the motel you had visited the day before.

Below the image, Pen's text read: Daaayum! Are all clones this fine? Why didn't you tell me you were seeing someone?

You closed out of her conversation and went onto your ongoing conversation with a different friend, Eloise, the daughter of the Senator from Corellia: Heads up, you and your mystery man made it to Scandal Gal.

Below, she had attached the full screenshot of the blog post, and below Crosshair’s picture, you read the caption:

Wakey wakey, high society: Sweetie's mystery man appears to be a silver fox dream. My sources say he was spotted entering a hotel with Sweetie and then leaving it, with our damsel of the moment seen leaving earlier than him, apparently glowing. While we may be left to fantasize about the happenings within the motel's walls, what I'm more interested to know is if this handsome young soldier is willing to introduce any of his brothers to us poor, starving gals. Consider me first in line.

With your heart pounding in your chest, you did what you knew you shouldn't have done and went over to Scandal Gal's blog and read the comments, though to your surprise, none of the comments were dragging you. You'd half expected to be called a slut by every commenter, but most of the thirsty girls in the blog were fawning at how handsome Crosshair was. You didn't particularly like a horde of girls digitally cat-calling your man, but you preferred that over a ruined reputation.

Overnight, you had become a phenomenon. What started as a picture with a few comments speculating about your encounter at the opera was now a full-fledged story that easily hundreds of people around the east side of Coruscant were following. You read multiple comments talking wonders about Crosshair, others talking wonders about you, very many admiring your relationship and how attractive you both looked together—and a few comments here and there dragging you and/or Crosshair, as expected, but overall, you and Crosshair had taken over the holonet for all the right reasons.

You wanted to laugh, but a part of it freaked you out as well. You’d never made a high profile of yourself. You’d always enjoyed your spoils in life in as private a way as possible, and the few times you’d actually made it to Scandal Gal had been because a dress you wore somewhere was beautiful, not because of your love life.

And only then, it hit you—did Crosshair know about this? And if he did, how would he take it?

Catastrophizing wouldn’t get you anywhere. You got up from your bed and put on your bathrobe, which rested on the armrest of the cozy chair next to your bed. You opened the blinds of your bedroom and took a moment to admire the Coruscant skyline with the sun making its way up the sky, dancing with a few clouds against the light blue hue. You exited your bedroom and headed past your living room with your holopad in hand, towards the kitchen to brew your coffee. As the coffee brewed, you opened the blinds to the rest of your apartment and basked in the morning peace far away from any whispers of scandal that lived in your holopad. You figured that was the bright side of it all—whether it was good talk or bad talk, it only lived in your holopad, and it wasn’t going to make its way into your calm morning.

The calm was interrupted when the door to your apartment flew open, and your mother seemed to glide inside, letting the door close behind her. Her eyes scanned the apartment until they found you, and you couldn’t decide if she was angry at you or not. At the sight of you, your mother sighed—even in her apparent disappointment, which you wouldn’t pretend not to know the cause of, your mother had a regal stance worthy of the senator of Coruscant, with her dark beige suit and her expertly done hair; even her floral scent that commanded respect.

You tried to be as nonchalant as possible, gesturing at the coffee brewer with your hand and raising your eyebrows. Your mother sighed again and shook her head, and instead, she gestured with her chin at the holopad that rested on your counter.

“Have you opened that thing this morning?” She asked you.

“Yes,” you uttered.

“Darling, what were you thinking?” Your mother now seemed more worried than angry at you. “Do you at least know this man well enough?”

“Well enough to know I’m head over heels for him,” you admitted.

“And then there’s that ridiculous gossip site,” your mom continued. “I tell myself it’s no big deal, just a little source of entertainment for spoiled rich teens with nothing better to do, but I can’t fathom the fact that now they’re picking on you. I’m too nervous to read any of the posts or the comments thinking about all the horribly unkind things everyone’s sharing about you… people can be so cruel.”

You sighed. “I know, but, Mom… as far as I’ve checked, the things Scandal Gal and the readers are saying aren’t that bad…”

“Meaning?” She inquired.

You couldn’t help but chuckle. “They love him. They’re saying he’s devastatingly handsome and fawning over him, some of them even want to go stand outside the clone bar to see if they can get boyfriends.”

“But what are they saying about you?” She asked.

“I’m a hero. They like my dress, the scarf I wore, and the man I’m with. I think there’s an ongoing wager as to whether or not I’ll marry him,” you delivered blankly.

Your mother’s eyes widened, and you held in your laughter at her reaction.

“Mom, relax,” you said. “I’m not saying I will. But I do really like him. And all things considered, I expected mayhem, and even if there are a few mean things here and there, they don’t compare to how good most of the responses are.”

“That’s rare,” your mother admitted. “And I suppose you’re right, you can’t control what everyone says.”

“And I won’t try to,” you agreed. “I’m just saying it could be a lot worse and if it’s not as bad as I thought it could be, I’m gonna embrace it.”

For a split second, your mother looked at you in plain disbelief. Regardless, she sighed, straightened her back, and gathered herself, and she met your gaze again with understanding.

“Alright, now tell me, who is this man?” She asked.

“He’s the sniper who took out the assassin who tried to kill the Chancellor,” you said as you poured your cup of coffee.

Your mom raised her eyebrows. “Oh.”

“Oh?” You raised your eyebrows too, pouring another cup for your mother.

“I met him at the start of the opera,” she explained. “I even invited him to our box, but he said he already had one, he didn’t want to refuse it and seem rude.”

“Yeah, he was invited because of his efforts,” you said. “In fact, I… I met him during the final intermission at the opera. We got to talking and he’s just… fascinating.”

Those were all the details you’d give to your mother about that night.

Your mother’s demeanor seemed to soften as she drank from the coffee you’d given her. With a soft exhale, she set the cup down on the counter and pressed her hands together in front of her chest, avoiding your gaze for a few moments.

“Sweetie, I don’t want you to think I’m exploiting your relationship with this man,” she began.

You tilted your head. That was one of the last things you’d expected her to say.

She then met your gaze. “But this is actually a very good look.”

“What, for you?” You asked.

Your mother chuckled. “I have spent months collaborating with Senator Chuchi to pass a clone rights bill. When your… boyfriend…”

You chuckled. “Crosshair.”

She nodded slowly. “Right. When Crosshair saved the Chancellor’s life, we got a lot more support, but we’re not quite there yet. Too many people view the clones as vessels bred for combat, not as actual human beings with human emotions and human needs. And, as triumphant as Crosshair was in saving the Chancellor, his effort was still that of a soldier, hence why we’re, as I said…”

“Not quite there yet,” you continued. “And… you think that if I’m public with him, so public that people are talking about relationships and gossiping like they do with anyone else in our society, he’ll look more human.”

“And by extension, the rest of the clones,” your mother added. “It just might shift the tide in favor of finally giving them some more rights.”

You smiled softly and took another ship of your coffee. “I love the sound of that. I just don’t know how I feel about scheming regarding Crosshair.”

“Be honest with him, then,” your mother suggested. “If you’re not on board, be as private as you possibly can, I won’t hold it against you. It was just an idea. And now that I think about it…”

You looked up at her again, waiting for what else she had to say.

“We do have that art gala coming up tonight,” she suggested. “Why don’t you invite him?”

You nodded slowly. “I’ll ask him. I wouldn’t mind getting all fancy and seeing him, but for starters, he needs to want to go.”

“He went to the opera, didn’t he?”

“Well, yes, but that was an invitation of honor,” you answered. “And he didn’t seem like a fish out of water, but I can’t help thinking this just isn’t what he’s used to.”

Your mother gazed at you sincerely. “Don’t you cage him into the label of a soldier, too. If you like this man and you want to be with him, you’re going to have to realize he’s more than that.”

You raised both of your brows. You knew she was right, and to have heard that coming from your mother, it meant volumes. You barely ever approached what she did inside the senate, but you pondered on how much her words made sense based on what little she’d shared with you about her efforts with the Pantoran senator. And even if she wasn’t trying to pass a clone rights bill, she was still right—Crosshair was a living, breathing man, and even though you knew he was a soldier, you hadn’t met him as such. You’d seen him at a high society gathering over drinks. You’d shared coffee and bantered with him, kissed him under the rain, made love to him time and time again until you couldn’t get him out of your thoughts.

As soon as your mother left, you reached for your holopad and ignored the multiple notifications you had, heading straight for Crosshair’s frequency number and typing out your message at least three times before sending it, trying to find the most chill way to invite him to the art gala. You sent the message and waited for the reply, frantically scurrying to your holopad anytime it vibrated. For a while, he didn’t answer, and before you lost hope, you finally saw the notifications coming in from Crosshair.

Can’t resist another little encounter with me, can’t you, Sweetie?

You chuckled, but you felt nervous at the same time. That obviously meant he’d been, in some way, exposed to Scandal Gal too.

How fancy do I have to dress? His next message came in shortly after.

You chuckled at your phone and typed back: Fancy enough to knock everyone dead.

Instantly, Crosshair replied: ’Kay. I’ll be there.

After you texted him all the details of the event, you went about your day with a twinge of excitement sprinkled over your every move. The sun made its way around the sky until it was time for you to get ready for the event, and for this occasion, you chose a dark purple dress paired with long black gloves and no necklace, since you’d be wearing your hair down your shoulders. The dress’s top had a black ribbon outlined in the shape of a triangle, with the base at your waist, and it was filled with discreet black sequins. On the right shoulder, where the dress’s top met your sleeve, you placed a dark gray brooch that your mother had given you on your eighteenth birthday, and looking at yourself in the mirror, you were almost ready to go. You did your makeup and grabbed your purse, and then you went out the door to the nightlife of Coruscant, where your mother was already waiting at the bottom of the building with a vehicle.

Your pulse was racing for the whole ride, knowing you would meet Crosshair there. You clutched your purse with both hands over your pressed thighs, and you could feel beads of sweat forming in your palms, having to take deep breaths from time to time to keep yourself steady. The vehicle finally arrived at the gala and parked just in front of the red carpet you were meant to walk on, and only then it dawned on you that multiple pairs of eyes thirsting for scandal would be on you. But you wouldn’t back out, not now, not when you were the very image of elegance in society about to meet with your Silver Fox Dream, as Scandal Gal had put it.

You resolved to knock them all dead too.

The door on your side of the vehicle was opened by an usher, and you stepped out, straightening your posture and taking in the scenery of flashing cameras and excited partygoers, and confident as you looked, your heartbeat hadn’t calmed down in the slightest. You looked around, scanning for the only person you were interested in seeing.

And soon enough, your eyes landed on him. His attire was possibly better than the one he wore the night of the opera, with a slim fit pitch-black suit and shirt, adorned with a burgundy vest under the coat, and rich red rose in his breast pocket. Crosshair’s watchful eyes gazed back at you, and as you remained still in front of your vehicle while your mother got out, Crosshair made his way to you, letting you behold every detail on him as he got closer to you, and when he was finally right in front of you, you took in all of him.

Crosshair was strikingly debonair, undeniably gorgeous, charming in his pride and confidence. He even smelled incredible. His tall figure seemed to loom protectively over you, complimenting your lack of height when you stood next to him, and you both made such a perfect pair you almost hoped that gossiping teenage girls were in proximity to behold your beauty, perhaps even eat their hearts out as a treat for you.

“Miss,” Crosshair greeted as he took your hand and brought it up to his lips, placing a soft kiss to your knuckles.

His gentle kiss ignited every inch of your skin as you briefly remembered the moments of passion you’d already shared with that man. You gave him a demure smile, taking one step closer to him, wishing with every fiber of your body to wrap your arms around his neck and pull him in for a kiss not unlike the one you’d had under the rain the day before, but perhaps it wasn’t the time or place for such a public display. Moreover, as Crosshair was lowering your hand down from his gesture, your mother exited the vehicle and appeared at your side, smiling at Crosshair.

He acknowledged her and gave her the hint of a smile, taking a slight bow. “Ma’am.”

He held out his hand, offering her the chance to be greeted in a similar way as you, and to your surprise, your mother obliged.

“It’s wonderful to see you again,” your mother said to him. “I didn’t know you’d met my daughter until this morning.”

“She’s a wonderful lady, ma’am,” Crosshair responded without a hint of hesitation or insecurity.

You were in awe at how easily he was getting along with your mother as the two continued to make small conversation, and soon enough, your mom went ahead and entered the building, with you and Crosshair following behind, your arm linked in his. Camera flashes on you weren’t scarce, and in the distance, you could hear high-pitched cries of “There they are!” and “They’re so hot together!”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly at yourself.

“Basking in your triumph?” Crosshair broke the silence between you.

“What do you mean?” You asked.

“That was a bold move, inviting me here, introducing me to your mother,” he continued, his features holding the sternness they usually did, but you picked up on no disgust on his behalf.

“Yeah, well…” You said. “Overnight, we kind of became public figures, you and me. There’s this gossip site that’s been following me around for a while, nothing major, but when you and I started talking at the opera, we got popular.”

“Ah, Scandal Gal,” Crosshair mused. “Yes, I was approached and stalked by a teen.”

You nearly snorted trying to hold in your laughter. “What?”

“The picture of me that’s on that site was taken by a sixteen-year-old girl,” Crosshair said, smirking. “Somehow, I’m more afraid of gossip-hungry teens than I am of tactical droids.”

You chuckled. “They’re formidable, alright.”

“So… you’re feeding them what they want by bringing me here?” He continued the conversation.

“No, not exactly,” you replied. “That’s a side effect. Because of Scandal Gal, my mom rushed over to my place this morning panicking a little, but I explained to her that… well…”

You and Crosshair had just reached the bar of the opulent salon where the gala was being held, and you both took a seat on your respective stools. Crosshair eyed you with intrigue as you trailed off, prompting you to speak up, and you realized why you’d stopped yourself from saying what you wanted to say.

But this was Crosshair. He was a dream incarnate, and you were already there with him, a striking and attractive couple that commanded everyone’s attention, and you found yourself smiling at him as your pulse rose once more.

“That I… I feel a lot for you,” you said. “That I really like you, Crosshair, and this isn’t a meaningless fling for the sake of shock value to me.”

Crosshair maintained eye contact with you, and his features softened ever so slightly, so discreetly that an untrained eye wouldn’t have been able to notice. He broke eye contact with you to gesture at the bartender and order drinks for both of you, and then he turned back to you, with his lips curving to a smirk.

“Well, well,” he hummed. “How touching.”

It was good that he didn’t appear repulsive at your sentiments, but your poor, racing heart would need a more precise answer. Then, Crosshair’s smirk widened, and he looked down at his knees, letting his inner softness glow through if only for a moment.

“It’s not meaningless for me either,” he replied.

You smiled brightly and exhaled the tension from your chest. “Really?”

“Really,” he answered.

“Then… there’s something else you should know,” you said.

And you then explained how your mother wouldn’t use you both, but that you were supporting her cause in the senate, how him being exposed to something other than the front lines would put clones in a more human light, at least to the members of the senate who were still on the fence. You even gave Crosshair the opportunity to back out immediately if he felt like his strings were being pulled, but all the while, Crosshair remained with that serene smile at you, and when you were done talking, Crosshair reached for your hands and held them in his.

“Does this bill mean I’ll get paid more?” He asked.

You laughed openly, and he chuckled in return just as the drinks he’d ordered were placed beside you by the bartender.

“Sweetie,” he said to you. “I don’t care much about the other things. Not Scandal Gal, not the Senate, although that bill sounds decent. I came here to be with you because I can’t get you out of my brain. You’re not what I pictured a high-society woman to be, and… well…”

You smiled softly at him, and now it was your turn to prompt him to speak.

“Now that you’ve introduced me to your mother,” he said, “I hope I get the chance to introduce you to my brothers too.”

Your smile widened. “You’d do that?”

He nodded, smiling softly at you. “You’re a smart girl, you can handle it.”

You laughed and reached for your drink, an Urban Flora cocktail that could have been an exact replica of the one you drank when you first met Crosshair at the opera. You took a sip of it without breaking eye contact with Crosshair, and when you lowered your drink, you raised a brow at him.

“But can you handle the Coruscant high societal scene?” You asked.

Crosshair took a sip of his own drink, the smoky, rich Corellian whisky he loved so much, and he leaned in closer to you, close enough for you to smell the smooth, luscious drink on his breath.

“Try me, Sweetie,” he purred.

You giggled, and you both gently bumped your glasses together, and you went on to continue talking about whatever sparked your interest as you finished your drinks. Crosshair told you about his missions, his brothers, even a couple of anecdotes of when he was a young cadet. In turn, you told him about your days as a schoolgirl, your plans for the future, what you liked to do in your spare time, the planets you longed to visit all over the galaxy. And then, when the glasses were empty and the conversation was fulfilled, you and Crosshair stood up from the bar and went around the room, and you greeted most of your friends and acquaintances as well as introduced Crosshair to all of them. Crosshair was a flying success with everyone, and you couldn’t help but gawk at him just a little. The night wore on as smoothly as velvet, until it was getting late, and you were bound to return home.

You directed a look at Crosshair, a look that was filled with allure, and he reciprocated. Quick goodbyes were said, and soon, you were sitting with Crosshair at the back of your vehicle as the chauffeur flew you home. As you sat together, you were in silence, and though Crosshair was great with words, you’d learned he was far better with his actions, and he reached for the rose on his breast pocket and handed it to you. You smiled at him, slightly flustered, and for the remainder of the ride, you scooched closer to him and leaned your weight on him, eager to arrive at the privacy of your apartment.

You had no intention of waiting. After you and Crosshair had left the vehicle, the moment the elevator doors closed behind you, you were both on each other. Your hands ran all over his back as you both locked lips, hungrily devouring each other in that small space, and you then let your palms rest on his chest. Crosshair took each of your hands and tugged gently at your middle fingertips, enough to hold onto the gloves you wore as you slid your hands down and the delicate fabric came off, exposing your skin. You heard Crosshair shudder softly before he took you into his arms again, kissing you as passionately as before, and you both felt the elevator pulling to a stop.

You gathered yourselves—there was no need to surprise someone waiting for the elevator with a steamy scene—but when you found there was no one there to see you, you and Crosshair held hands as you made your way over to your penthouse, and the moment the door closed behind you both, you were on each other’s lips once more. Your wandering hands removed his coat and his vest, and he found the zipper at the back of your dress. He lowered the zipper, causing the dress’s blouse to fall limply around your silhouette, and you took a step back, wanting him to watch as you wiggled out of the dress and let the fabric fall gracefully on the floor, leaving you to step out of it.

Crosshair eyed you hungrily as you approached him. Your breasts hung freely at your front, and he didn’t miss the hickey he’d left on your ribs the day before. On your hips, there was a pair of lace black panties, but the top prize was easily taken by the stockings that covered you from the middle of your thighs to your toes, which he couldn’t make himself tear his gaze from. You chuckled and took his hands, leading him slowly into your bedroom, and he followed you blissfully until you were at the foot of your bed.

You let go of him and sat back all the way to your headboard. You pressed your legs together and slowly slid your panties away from you, tossing them aside, and you spread your legs to show him, never once breaking eye contact with him. Your gaze was alluring, slightly teasing, and Crosshair watched. He watched as you spread your legs and took your hand to your inner thigh, teasing your skin, until your fingers finally brushed fully over your folds and your clit. You let out a playful gasp, smirking at him and taunting him, and as he watched, Crosshair began to undress. Your smirk widened, and you continued to touch yourself in the way you most liked, delighted by the sight of him losing the clothes that covered him. Your cunt was wet and swollen, pulsating and sensitive, all you needed to do was increase your pace ever so slightly and you’d tip yourself over the edge—as Crosshair crawled onto the mattress, you decided to give him the full show. Making sure his eyes were still on you, you applied more pressure onto your clit and used your three middle fingers to rub, and looking into his eyes, you finally got to enjoy the waves of your orgasm.

You reveled in how hungry Crosshair looked, pleased and aroused by the little show you put on for him. Crosshair couldn’t help but take his hand over to his cock, pumping slowly as he watched you pleasing yourself, until your orgasm faded, and your moans quieted when you removed your hand. You found Crosshair’s gaze and pouted at him, holding your hand in front of you and curling your finger, beckoning him to come to you. With a smirk, Crosshair obliged, and he positioned himself between your legs, planting soft kisses around your inner thighs before brushing his tongue lusciously over your folds. He moaned into your skin, and you whimpered in return, dazed and sensitive after your antics.

As Crosshair continued to please you with his skilled tongue and lips, you suddenly felt his fingers finding yours. You spread your hand before interlacing your fingers with his, holding him as he brought you closer to another release. Your body squirmed harder than it had the first time around, the white-hot ecstasy seeming to explode within every fiber of your body. You didn’t hold back with your moaning, letting his name escape you many a time, enticed by the velvety texture of his tongue contrasting with the raspiness surrounding his jawline.

When Crosshair emerged from between your legs, you tugged on him, prompting him to rest at your eye level. You wanted to feel him close to you, and Crosshair knew what it was you desired. With your legs still spread, you rested back and let him take the lead, feeling as he slowly inserted himself within your tight, warm walls. You both moaned in unison and stared deeply into each other’s eyes as he began his thrusts slowly, luxuriously letting you feel everything. Your lips begged for his, and you perked your face up to kiss him as you felt your body gently bouncing on the mattress in his rhythm. Crosshair’s kisses made you float higher and higher, and drenched in pleasure and ecstasy, you felt like you were in paradise. Crosshair was truly capable of taking you there.

Crosshair paused his kisses on your lips and lifted himself to look at you, his gaze stern and seductive as he increased the snapping of his hips. He grunted as he hammered into you, shuddering and twitching inside you in anticipation, soon unable to contain soft groans and whimpers. Crosshair looked straight into your eyes, flooded by adoration of you, until the pleasure was too much for him to keep his eyes open even as much as he wanted to gaze into you. His eyes shut and the rhythm of his hips became unfathomably fast, and so too, you descended into bliss for the third time that night. You smiled amidst your orgasm, chiming his name in a delicious moan, your hand still securely holding his as he released inside you and fell limp on the mattress beside you afterwards.

You both panted, each your own dazed and flustered mess as you made futile attempts to recover, but as much as you were both unable to do much else, you remained holding each other’s hands. As time passed, you soon felt Crosshair’s thumb brushing delicately up and down your finger, and you watched him with a tender gaze. You felt you’d fall asleep right there, and if you did, you knew you would want for nothing. You knew you’d have nothing to worry about for as long as you were together, and the pain of temporary separations would be worth it if it was Crosshair you would wait for.

And there on your mattress, filled with love, resolve, and exhaustion, you drifted off into sleep.

A gentle sunlight and the song of birds woke you up. You noticed the space beside your bed was empty, and you didn’t waste time getting up and placing your robe over you as you sought out your lover. You walked over to the living room and your attention was drawn to the balcony, where he stood with his back turned on you, shirtless and wearing his pants from the night before, gazing out at the scenery.

You took a moment to admire him and the way his skin appeared golden under the morning sun, contrasting almost artistically with the green plants on your balcony, the blue sky, and the skyline ahead. With soft steps, you approached him and stepped out onto the balcony, and you wrapped your arms around his waist from behind, pressing a soft kiss on his shoulder blade. Crosshair delicately shuffled and brought your figure next to him, draping his arm around you, and you both stood in silence for a few peaceful moments, watching the scenery.

“What are you watching?” You asked him, knowing it was in his nature to observe.

His amber eyes scanned the scenery, and he almost looked humbled. He had the face of an innocent life being beholding the universe ahead of them, realizing how small they truly were in comparison to the greatness of creation itself.

“Out there, as soldiers,” Crosshair began, “it often feels like we fight because it’s all we know. We were made for it. Myself, my brothers, more obviously bred for different purposes, all to serve one war. But aside from why we were created, we never really stop to think what we’re fighting for.”

You looked up at him, watching his features soften in realization as he spoke. Crosshair then angled his body more towards you, and he held you tighter, pressing you to the warmth of his skin, watching you with the most tender gaze you had ever felt on you.

“I won’t forget this next time I’m on the battlefield,” he continued.

“You mean, Coruscant?” You asked. “The Republic, these people, this skyline… peace?”

He smiled. “I mean you.”

You smiled at him, devoted.

Crosshair chuckled. “All of that, too, but, mostly you.”

“Oh, Crosshair,” you wrapped your arms around him and perked on your toes, requesting a kiss.

Crosshair obliged and kissed you gently, almost carefully, feeling as the sunshine draped over his skin. He wished he could remain there longer, but he had a duty, a duty that had brought him to you, and a duty that he had to fulfill in order to one day be with you more properly. He knew that, with you on Coruscant waiting for him, he’d always have a reason to return, and a reason to keep fighting. He’d never thought of a life besides being a soldier, but if you were in it, it couldn’t be so bad.

And out there, on that balcony, Crosshair held you close to him until the very last moment he could spare with you, until he had to leave again to be a soldier, always with the promise of returning to you.

*

This just in: Sweetie and Sniper Man are still together and far more public now that I and my loyal sources have done our job ;) I do think we have a power couple in our midst, and the next time these two show up at a fancy event dressed to impress, you’ll hear about it from none other than yours truly. I certainly wish the happy couple all the best, and my challenge towards Sniper Man to bring forth more eligible men from the fine and respectable GAR still stands. Help us gals out, Sniper Man, we all love you so much, and we can’t let Sweetie keep all the spoils!

Yours truly!

Thank you for reading! Please consider reblogging to support me!

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#uf series #moonstrider writes #tbb smut #tbb crosshair smut #crosshair smut #tbb crosshair x reader #crosshair x reader #tbb crosshair x you #crosshair x you #tbb crosshair #the bad batch smut #tbb fanfic #the bad batch fanfic #tbb fanfiction

[merao-mariposa]

I have your back, you have my heart

Day three of the pissa/death duo week! This au was the idea of @amymorningstar ​​in this post I really wanted to write about the Mafia Pissa and this was a good excuse for!

“Mafia + I promised you as long as I'm with you you'll never be alone again”

(…)

Philza Minecraft had been on the dark side of the streets for a very long, long time, since his first interventions dismantling brothels that were a little too... “flexible” with the idea of consent going to authentic inhumane places, all falling under the scourge of the Angel of Death until a man, a friend, appeared in front of him with the idea of dominating the criminal world, converting it to his ideals. That was a long time ago but corruption spreads like a fire in gasoline and Phil was there to suffocate it until it went out.

Maybe it was his cruelty in how he snuffed out the lives of those corrupt men that led him to pay the karma he was paying right now, he doesn't know.

The man sitting at his desk looked miserable for say the least, from the outside you feel the discord in the trademark half-twisted hat or the uncorked bottle of wine resting on his messy desk but you can see how the damage runs deeper than that if you know Philza well enough, the immaculate two pieces-suit stand out like a sore thumb on a man so casual and relaxed, the white shirt is buttoned at the neck almost restrictively, and his trail of beard is just a little more prominent than it has been in recent months.

The last few months, that sugar-filled almost year where mafia boss BOLAS had been closer to being an angel than he would ever be since he lived in what he could only call heaven.

His arrival in heaven was a young man with messy, dark hair. His purple eyes dragged him deep into the flames of hell now that they were no longer looking at him.

The fact that he had no one else to blame but himself didn't make it any easier.

But when Sinfonia appeared everything was perfect. He was reserved but easy to smile, aloof but with loyal friends, so pathetic (and cute) yelling at the slightest threat but he was a real threat in front of some of the most ruthless members of BOLAS, selective but had two beautiful kids who looked alike barely in the whites of the eyes, even his last name “Sinfonia” evidenced the harsh contradiction that surrounds the object of the crow's loves, a man as gifted in every possible musical instrument as if he had the Midas touch, and yet that very appropriate last name wasn't real. His Missa was a set of contradictions and embarrassing coincidences over knots in lavender stems.

Which in retrospect must have been a loud alarm, a siren announcing the disaster that his false moon left in its wake in the crow's heart.

It turns out that his love lied, the fire burning inside him to abandon important meetings for the sole purpose of sharing more time of his life with him as opposed to the absolute security of being understood as someone returning to his childhood home (beloved, cared, welcome) with the ease of riding a bike. All of that had been a waste.

The soft hugs that lulled him into deep dreams (chasing away the nightmares that Missa shouldn't know about for his own good) to the chaste kisses all over the face that released the negativity from his husband's shoulders (and if instead of being a result of his low self-esteem was his guilt taking charge?) to the private kisses that said “I miss you” and “one last time, love” without the words, all were nothing but lies.

Not that he had cared much about anything at that moment, he found himself focused on his children (because now they were also Phil's children) they were angels and he only had the head to raise them with Missa, who returned with a sweeter demeanor after his night walks and long work trips, he tenderly asked for nap together as a family.

He should have questioned more why Missa disappeared like that, coincidentally, just when Phil was paying for the services of the most dangerous mercenary on the black market, unlike the assassins he had on his payroll, this guy had the prestige of killing only with his touch, too lethal and above all cautious, Phil did not even met him in person, they only contacted through third parties who agreed on the service and only told about his violet hood and his skull mask. It is said; no one has seen his face and lived to tell.

Like I said before; Phil is old, he's been in the environment for years where only an intelligent man could live as long as he does, with that in mind how was it possible that he didn't know that his sweet husband was actually the most dangerous bastard in the underworld? Shocked by the discovery, in this kind of world, someone you trust can stab you in the back so how can you trust a man who lied to you?

And Missa knew who Philza Minecraft was, what his name means, he always knew, he did always know when something had gone wrong and Philza needed more comfort, always two steps ahead of his needs because he knew it.

The time after their fight breaks up, everything is a drunken blur in the crow's mind, he doesn't remember what they said, he only knows the screams and the revolver clicking in his left pocket while Missa, The Reaper or whoever it was have knowledge of the gun in his pocket and as soon as he pointed it at the man he said he loved time ago the gun was already on the ground, rolling behind this man who was unrecognizable to Phil, the shouting match continued more heated after the blonde pointed his gun at the helpless and clumsy Missa.

That was the last time he saw Missa.

Phil has been so distracted, tired and paranoid since then, even the security is a disaster ignoring the advice of the rest of BOLAS. Philza has scattered guards in unimportant areas, some stuck to him all day but the majority watch that Missa does not return or get close to the children (his children; Missa's own children) Chayanne almost bites him at the slightest suspicion of not being able to see his father, so his impenetrable fortress suddenly becomes a weak place.

Literally and metaphorically

He ordered several guards not to even dream of setting foot in certain areas of the family mansion (those such as the music room, the kitchen and the art studio, any room with traces of Missa must remain identical to how it was before his departure, as if they were waiting for him)

Philza feels betrayed and hurt but above all he is so confused, his rational mind tells him to defend himself, to put up the highest walls to protect himself, his organization and his family but his family is Missa. He is outside and Philza once promised that he will demolish every wall in the world that did not open its doors for the man with purple eyes.

And yet here he is.

Inside his fortress it can breathe the air of a broken family, the kids have believed him for the moment but the tension is felt increasing with every minute they pass without hearing from their papa. Inside the fortress are no longer him and his chicks but a greedy and lonely crow with two brittle shells and a broken heart.

The days pass in that agony until there is a surprise attack from which they cannot respond.

Tensions with the Federal mafia had gotten much worse in recent months, after his formal alliance with Soulfire he did not believe they were going to attack seriously.

But they did.

Thank his Goddess, thank The Lady for allowing Chayanne and Tallulah to be in the school while the white clad mercenaries broke down every door and shot at anything that moved.

At least Missa would get them back and they would be together again. Just as they should have been before he and his greedy hope for a family took that away from them.

As soon as his office door is kicked down one of those white masked sons of bitches puts his hands on him, something happens.

Penetrating in his vision when he sees him but there is stealth in his steps, he is the only one to notice his presence until two bullets (how quickly are repeated) knock down two of the men to dead, wound another in the shoulder, and the last one misses just centimeters away for paint the wall with Philza's skull.

Four shots, two fired before the reaction time of their distracted predators and attacked from the purest darkness, shots fly towards the door and if it was not absolutely broken after that rude kick it is now unusable, falling from its hinges under the siege and behind it are no signs of the mysterious shooter.

Tense seconds pass until one of the feds quickly puts one of his dirty hands in Phil's hair, pulling hard on the golden strands in a hissing threat and that's when he enters the scene.

The men on each side of the door were the first to fall, one quickly takes the place of his fallen companion, his gun raised, ready to shoot, followed by the one with the shot in the shoulder, unfortunately with that wound he is not able to shoot at time to prevent another bullet from the darkness from taking the life of the other one.

The bullets fly again while the threshold of the door swallows the corpse, dragging it out and soon, very soon, his savior enters the room with a constant step carrying the dead body as a kind of human shield.

A well-placed shot, other fall.

And the guy who touched him is one of them, his screams are muffled by his mask and by the gunshots exploding around him.

Phil hides under his desk as fast as he can but not before taking a bullet in the shoulder, it hurts like shit.

But it seems that it hurts them more because he can hear how one by one the white masks fall with sharp blows, they could barely scream in horror before fall with a fatal shott.

Fast, efficient and lethal

When it seems that the rain of bullets is ending, Phil distinguishes the voices from outside his office. That sounds like… Chainsaws? And laughs Phil knows immediately that his best people, who should be with his children, are on and from what he hears they are having fun.

He slowly peeks out of his desk, his hand warm from the blood dripping from his shoulder, and finally sees the reason of his recent insomnia.

Missa, or also known as The Reaper, moves almost with grace but the anger burns in his every movement, it is a wild spectacle as soon as the bullets run out, each man who even tries to get close to Phil is shot down with ease, he watch in trance as his husband smash anyone who tries to get close to him to pieces.

“M- Missa…?” he comes out as a dismayed whisper

The Reaper turns to look at him for half a second, which one of them takes advantage of to kick him in the stomach. Missa lets out a grunt of acute pain but holds the guy's leg with his hands, taking advantage of pushing him forward, knocking another of them against the favorite glass table.

The two guys are left on the floor, one on top of the other and one's suit is now full of glass.

And just like that Missa goes for the next one and Phil can only watch in shock.

Missa is The Reaper, The Reaper is Missa. They are both the same person; they have been forever.

Missa, his Missa is his mercenary and his mercenary is his husband.

he approaches, slowly, as slowly as he can with a bullet embedded in his shoulder. The cacophony of screams shakes the floor and Philza suddenly realizes that he must have gone down to the panic room.

The weight of not doing so clings to his shoulders, the clear implications trying to cross the capo’s tired mind like a malicious whisper makes him feels so wrong, so manipulative.

But he was waiting for him to save him

Of a thousand people in this aggressive environment who swore their loyalty to him and finds himself depending on the arrival of the one who not only never swore anything to him but also betrayed him.

Oh well, who betrayed who?

After yelling at him for lying to him when he also lied, pointing a gun at him and taking him away from his own children, he knows that the Philza of the past would have sent him to hell for ruining the things with Missa.

Missa knew who he was before, he knew it from very early on and that affected Phil, it made him feel cornered and at a disadvantage. He realized at that moment that he was afraid; he didn't fear the hitman under his roof as much as he feared the man under his sheets. feared he was so vulnerable letting him walk around the red mafia's base of operations, taking the children to school every morning, training Chayanne and hearing Tallulah's flute in the distance did terrified him, his worst nightmare was in how his heart was warmed by them so soft and gentle in the reaper's expert hands he could take out his heart and the worst thing is that he would have left it in order to see the children and Missa every morning when he woke up.

My God, he was crazy, he went crazy when he fell in love with him and even crazier when Phil sabotaged his own happiness.

Loneliness tasted bitter on his lips, power and honor became poison with the diffuse days, with his cold bed at night, with his absence piercing his chest.

The last man fell and with the elegance of a dancer stabbed by a steel dagger into his chest, he did the same with the other two men on the ground. The Reaper left no witnesses or loose ends.

He could hear in the distance Baghera and Cellbit stopping their chainsaws which was a good sign. The Federation had basically sent a mini army to his grounds and he partly wondered if his men knew that Missa was there with him.

His name tasted salty when it finally left Phil's lips in a whisper, it tasted like the tears he shed every time he was sober to remember his absence. Behind that mask it is almost impossible to perceive the purple eyes but he knows well that look that is hidden in front of him.

Missa wipes the blood on his own pants with slow movements, the dagger pressed against his thigh until it's clean enough.

“Missa…” Phil insists, he shouldn't insist to the man who has the dagger, especially when he is hurt.

The hairs on the back of his neck stand on end as he feels (not sees) the intense gaze on his shrunken figure, well, at least he now has his attention. The purple eyes that he loves so much scan him from top to bottom and a wave of shame hits the stunned and guilty part of his subconscious as he remembers how he looks even worse for being in the middle of a fucking shootout. That wasn't how he would have wanted to see him again see but it was the most likely way to meet again now that he knew they were in the same work area

His eyes seem to linger on the wound on his shoulder and if he could see his husband's face, he would say he was not pleased with it.

“…Phil” Missa's voice sounds like a late greeting and is focused on him.

Goddess, how he had missed that voice

The professional, and infamous mercenary approaches, a little more hesitant than he should for a man of his reputation and a wave of affection breaks over Philza, he too takes a single step closer and they are looking at each other as the first time, feels like looking at the moon at its peak or the sun descending. He can't, he doesn't have the right to act like a wet cat after tearing up his enemies and expecting Phil to be normal about it. Missa just can't do that to him, he bites back a light laugh and takes another step in his direction. noticing that there is blood on his clothes and some cuts on it but if I had to guess I would say that most of it is from the others and Phil is already losing blood himself.

Missa takes another step, knowing the bleeding has stopped and believing the bullet grazed but he won't be sure until he concentrates on something other than mustering the words to ask him to fucking take off the mask.

Fortunately, he seems to read his mind as Phil doesn't even finish taking another slow step towards him when the mask is finally gone, The Reaper has officially left the room and his husband looms in front of him in his place. Is it strange to say that death is good for him? His face, his hair and the sparkle in his eyes or is the blonde just delirious?

Be that as it may, it doesn't take long for them to find themselves in the middle of the destroyed office as if it were his own world.

"You went"

“You kicked me out.”

“You still shouldn't have left” he replied very intelligently and Missa smiled, a little nervous.

“Does it hurt so much?” The black-haired man worried, looking at his injured shoulder and Philza wasn't having his partner distracted just like that.

"No, no. It doesn't hurt" He responded, knowing that lies were not the best for the relationship at this time.

Missa frowned like a kitten about to sneeze but he allowed this one for him, just for now.

“You… you're right Philza” Missa lowered his head in shame and a confuse “what?” died in the blonde's throat.

"I shouldn't have left-"

“I pointed at you with a gun, mate” he interrupted, feeling guilty and a little freaked out by whatever that means, it all was his fault, why was Missa saying that?

“Still, I should have stayed, I wanted to stay” hesitantly he noticed how Missa’s arms floated loosely around him. They weren't very elegant clothes, just good enough for work and Philza wanted to focus on that and the stains of blood all over his man instead of the new confession, after everything he did, but how could Missa still wanted him?

“Missa…”

“I promised, right?” Phil raised his head suddenly, searching for his gaze between the strands of black hair that escaped from his messy ponytail. “I always keep my promises, dear”

When the members of Bolas made sure they had the entire area clean, they advanced, covering the entire perimeter until they climbed the stairs that led to the red leader's office, they found themselves face to face with the splintered frame of the door, an office in an absolute disaster. with the imposing doors thrown next to the lifeless bodies and in the eye of that past storm was the mob boss.

Philza was leaning against his desk (which was out of its place) the purple cloth acted as an improvised tourniquet and in his arms was the waist of a tall man with black hair that they had trouble recognizing at first if it weren't for the clear display of affection, unaware that they had company. Now Phil kept his face buried in the taller man's torso as if he were afraid to let him go again and Missa hummed, deeply satisfied with having his little bird in his arms again, he carefully avoided the other man's shoulder but remained attentive, didn't want to leave that wound out of sight until he could drag his husband stubborn ass to the infirmary. Ignoring the living and dead audience, the couple was trapped in their own world, little giggles that didn't seem to go anywhere, dying and returning with each other's laughter in a vicious circle, finally together.

“I promised you, I didn’t? as long as I'm with you you'll never be alone again, cuervito”

EXTRA:

“You look pretty good with that ponytail you know, mate?”

“Philza!”

“So, guys, do I tell Jaiden that there will be no divorce?”

“Shut the fuck up, Charlie”

#qsmp #qsmp missa #qsmp philza #pissa #pissa week #pissa/deathduo week #pissa au #qsmp shipping #tw mafia themes #tw dead mention #nothing graphic #but still #qsmp bolas

[boyfridged]

So many people are insisting Jason is in character in Batman #148 because Jason always forgives Bruce but it feels like they aren't following Jason's story in these incidents.

Bruce slices Jason's throat open -> Jason's villainy goes up and he does not reach out (in his violent way) to Bruce for a while.

Bruce takes Jason to Ethiopia to trigger his memories of his death -> Jason tries to erase his own memories.

RHATO #25 -> Jason at first seems like he forgives Bruce but then takes over the Iceberg Lounge and threatens to leak their secret identities.

He fights him in Event Leviathan when he accuses him.

After all these things Jason does forgive Bruce but he almost always gets upset. Sometimes his character flip flops where he alternates between forgiving and pissed for some reason (often different writers) but he usually gets to be at least a little pissed.

Pretty sure the last time Jason got mad at Bruce for not trusting him was not that long ago (Task Force Z, maybe Gotham War) now he immediately forgives without lashing out . . . at all? If you don't have time for the emotional fallout just don't have that character appear.

This weird trend of Bruce being anything but forgiving to Jason while Jason is the most forgiving guy in the world, when Bruce is supposed to be the redemption one and Jason is not, is weird.

i want to reply to this ask while it's still more or less relevant and i don't have time to get into it but very quickly: 1) i will not lie, i very much do not care about jason's appearances between utrh and countdown; i also don't care for most of rhato (and the iceberg lounge plotline is especially one of those that i make fun of a lot because it's half-baked and ignores so much of already established canon i don't even know how to approach it otherwise), as i don't like any of the writers involved nor general creative decisions irt jason's status at the time, but i get what you mean: it does make sense for jason to at least lash out first (and maybe that tendency could be, in some ways, traced back to his robin days, even), however 2) i don't believe that he ought to follow that pattern forever? being in character does not mean that the character shall stay the same, and i do not have many "hard lines" in terms of post-res jason's characterisation, as long as it honours the... baseline of his background and takes it as a point of reference? for instance, i love that jason has a moment of seemingly "giving up" in countdown, but i love it because within the narrative, it's very clear that he is pushed into it. similarly, i actually could enjoy stories of divergence in dick's stern morals, as long as it is clear that there is a divergence; and finally, i'm not even against "testing" bruce's limits, as long as we keep in mind that what is interesting about it is that it is unusual. i think this is also something that is required to keep characters real and human-like -- they can't be always absolutely consistent. but that in itself requires good and believable writing, strongly embedded within the universe and their contextual history -- and that's a task that dc writers have seemingly completely abandoned. 3) which is to say, i don't think jay forgiving bruce right away would be out of character; i think it would even make sense? how long can he stand his ground? (i know that it's comics, so the answer is: forever. but consider: what makes comics interesting is when they try to challenge that "forever"). but as you said: the weird dynamic between bruce and jason here is still the problem. however, that's the problem simply because zdarsky does not care for jason; and we have known it ever since cheer (or at least it was clear to me). he also does not, in actuality, care for bruce's flaws; every single one of bruce's issues and hypocrisies is just a pretense, that in long term is to allow him to regain the higher moral ground. this is what i despise about contemporary takes on bruce so much -- because there was a time when bruce's flaws were left a matter open rather than presented as if they were short episodes that did not affect his legacy as a whole.

somehow i started talking about bruce instead... i suppose because in case of zdarsky's jason there's nothing to salvage at all. look at that dialogue... what are we even expecting anymore. i'm mostly just shocked that he finds out new ways to write him poorly. to me it doesn't even matter if jason specifically forgives bruce or not at this point; the minutiae makes any and all decisions of that sort far-fetched. there's not much to say simply because none of it is actually grounded nor rationalised within the story. writing is more than just coming up with... events.

#sorry i don't mean to sound dismissive of your points but<3 i don't respect these writers enough to get into it tbh. #as i said there could be some evidence of what you're talking about traced to robin days -> #being the only era i actually subscribe to when i make judgements on jason's characters #which i can talk about some other time... #but i'm very busy nowadays so. #outbox

[professorcalculusstanaccount]

some self indulgent concepts for a 20-something year old Chang where he becomes Tintin’s photographer. I wanted him to have a slightly eccentric sense of style to reflect his playful personality.

as my Area 51 post where Chang and Tintin are middle aged did well I was speculating on what would have happened between the “canon” timeline and them being in their mid-40s, just to get a better idea of what their relationship would be like! A Lot of background stuff beneath the cut, cw for mentions of racism and homophobia  - buckle up boyos:

After Alph-Art Chang finishes school and starts studying commercial photography at university. On an exchange programme, he goes to study in Belgium for a year. Haddock has Chang live at Marlinspike during his studies, hoping he would keep Tintin out of trouble (and perhaps convince Tintin to finish school). This backfires significantly.

He’d bring an emotional intelligence to the Marlinspike team, as well as an outsider’s perspective on things. As he’s around Tintin’s age, Tintin feels more comfortable confiding in him. I imagine he’d have a wicked sense of humour too which Haddock appreciates, and, most importantly, he’s the guy in the group who brings a bag

He’s juggling a photography course, dangerous adventures, his job with the newspaper and a social life, but deep down he doesn’t feel like he truly belongs anywhere. He’s very aware of his outsider status, so embraces it. As a working class orphan who was taken in by a family of academics he’s used to not quite fitting in. He’s also trying to work through his trauma from his two near death experiences, wanting to Live Life To the Fullest, frequenting jazz bars and staff parties whenever he can.

Tintin is overjoyed to finally be able to spend time with him and takes him sightseeing in between adventures. A few months in he realises he’s developed feelings for him and has A Crisis - he is gripped with feelings of guilt and self disgust and is terrified he’ll lose Chang’s friendship. At first he attempts to bury his feelings, leading to some Incredibly Unhinged Adventures. Chang catches onto this and confronts him about it, and helps him overcome his self hatred. The two start a relationship in secret (Haddock can totally tell tho, he quickly makes it clear they have his full support). Chang’s photography career takes off and he starts engaging with local immigrant and LGBT communities

things seem to be going well for the two of them until a tabloid outs them publicly (could it be Rastapopolous? I know he took a tumble but maybe he survived? idk). Chang and Tintin lose their jobs and their reputations. WW2 hits and they take it upon themselves to travel around, beating up fascists and foiling nazi plots (I know the canon comics follow a floating timeline with some being set post-war but here I’m rooting things in a specific time period)

after the war they manage to find more work. Tintin finds work with a small local paper and Chang scrapes out some freelance jobs. The war shaped their perceptions of journalism significantly, with Tintin now giving more of his attention to less flashy stories, pledging to do what he can to prevent anything like the war from happening again. Their itch for adventure returns, however, when reports of alien sightings start cropping up in the papers...

#Fanart #tintin #Adventures of Tintin #animation #2d animation #Chang #captain haddock #archibald haddock #snowy #milou #gif #gifset #man i hate drawing tintin himself lol he's so difficult to get right #he looks bootleg when i draw him lmao #haddock on the other hand #i love him and he will appear in every post i make #i think the comics follow a floating timeline but i generally like grounding things in a certain time and context #this is the closest ill get to straight up writing fanfiction #oh yeah one last detail #i gave him correspondent two tone shoes #in the 20s and 30s they were popular in the jazz and dance scenes and were often worn to signal support for racial harmony #plus they just look cool #my stories

[adelinamoteru]

purely fanon jason vent below so feel free to ignore

every other fic in the jason todd tag whether its romantic or platonic or whatever just has to include something about the no kill rule or him giving up killing like is it not enough ! have we not hashed out this argument enough already ! can I not read some jason content without having to be randomly bombarded by the morality police and how “oh jasons not killed anyone for x amount of months thats great! we knew u could do it jay”

and I wish I was just joking like I really do but I have scoured the tag almost from top to bottom and it always, without a doubt, has to come up at some point. its his fucking defining character trait apparently. mind u he’s not even the only dc character that kills but yall just won’t let it go! I do not need jason giving up his stance on killing to be written out for me to be able enjoy content about him

and whether its included so that his relationships with other characters can be viewed as ‘realistic’ is just so. what does it matter. its already fan-fiction who the hell cares about justifying the universe that you’re choosing to write him in

#jason todd #dc #red hood #dcu #pls do not interact if u have issues with jasons stance on vigilantism or whatever bc this is rlly not my point #idc whether u hate him for it or not to each their own #I just wish it wasn’t treated as some sort of stain on his character that needs to be addressed in every fic he appears in or else he — #cant be liked or something #like thats a topic that has to be addressed for my love of jason todd and his character and the love other charas have for him to be valid #its giving ‘jason u cannot be loved the way that u are’ #and this reiterates the point I made in a previous post about how ppl genuinely dont know how to perceive this conflict and its resolution #the other way around #and how bc of that its always jason who has to be portrayed as making amends or taking a knee #there are so many interesting facets to jason todd so why does it always have to circle back to this one thing #why is it that hes one of the only charas ive seen where a certain plot point can never be looked past when enjoying him in fandom

[chloecherrysip]

breaking news: local woman goes to the movie theater and somehow DOESN'T see the mario movie again for the millionth time? who IS she??????

#this APPEARS to be a non-mario related post but stick with me i'll bring it back around in the tags #instead i saw the japanese stage production of spirited away (subtitled) and it was absolutely lovely :) :) :) #i LOVE spirited away (makes me cry every time) and i LOVE theatre and to see how they translated so many incredible sights #from the movie to the stage was delightful #but let me tell you...the mario brainrot runs deep right now and my treacherous thoughts started taking me places #mario spirited away AU?? is that anything?? tragically separated bros fic where luigi is in the chihiro role and mario is in the haku role? #where mario saved his brother's life many years ago but lost his name and memories in the process and was corrupted by bowser's magic #and the experience was so traumatizing that luigi forgot about the other world they found together and has been told for years #that his brother simply drowned in the sewer saving him #and then as an adult luigi finds his way back into the world and has to serve bowser and fight the mushroom kingdom to survive #but at least he's being helped by a strange half-human creature who somehow knows his name without being told. at least there's that #I GOTTA PONDER ON THIS A LITTLE MORE BUT THERE IS SOMETHING HERE. I'VE GOT SOMETHING GOING ON WITH THIS #something that hasn't come up yet on this blog but is crucial to one's understanding of me: i LOVE weird AU's #i've never met a weird AU that i couldn't make work somehow. just watch me!!! #and also if you would want to see more elaboration on this let me know lol

[dirt-str1der]

Kazu/maji is soooooo different than sae/maji this is because saejima and majima are best friends who go together everywhere and frequently close the toilet door in each others faces because they keep trying to follow each other inside and the other guys like No. im going to take a shit and kiryu and majima are like guys who are knotting each other every time they meet and conjoined at the groin , like majima will carry kiryus baby and saejima will raise it with him you know what i mean theres a lack of commitment (but no shortage of passion) with majima and kiryu theyre each others one night stand every single night but saejima and him stick with each other through thick and thin come hell or high water

#Yakuza loveblog #i just realised with horror that whenever i say kazu/maji without censoring it like that it actually appears in the tag itself #so thats why i have a typing quirk now #anyway you guys get what i mean #im not saying kiryu and majima dont love each other im just saying they dont love each other like saejima and majima do #kiryu is gentle and kind but he cant be loyal when nobody has ever sucessfully pinned him down before #saejima ... he is faithful. at the end of the day he will always come back to majima #and its the same for majima. saejima Gets him like no one else does ... they love each other the same way #i always say this but majima starting to wear his eyepatch less around saejima makes me explode fire and brimstone because he was hiding #damn near everything about himself his past his injuries and trauma because those arent for anybody but saejima. and saejima forgiving him #actively liberated him from those shackles. he waited for him every day and kept his head high until the day he could lower it to saejima .. #he bared himself to him then. showed him the life he was owed because saejima owned him then and had every right to strike him down where he #stood. nobody else was supposed to see his wounds because it was For saejima to judge if majima had been punished enough had suffered enough #for his sake .. the payment for his betrayal .. and saejima of course he forgave him. thats his bro ... the person he looks up to the most #so he forgives majima and majima is free to be his own person again not bound by honour or repayment. and he chose 2 remain by saejimas side #till death do them part or something like that #... the body text of this post implies that majima is an alpha. hes not jsyk hes literally omega coded ‘but hes so violent’ yeah. #hes meant to be like that. #saejima is levelheaded unlike kiryu so hes beta coded and he and majima fuck like rabbits #this is all FYI btw things i believe to be true backed up by source material

[heartofstanding]

just checked the word doc which has my draft of the shrewsbury wound-john bradmore sequence, thinking it was around 10k long. it's actually 19,242 words long. double what i thought it was. holy crap.

#text posts #the henry v novels #literally just goes from hal waking up immediately post-shrewsbury to hal waking up immediately post-operation #and the start of a timeskip to his 17th birthday #(i kinda want to revise it to put in stuff from what i learnt about facial injuries in wwi caused by shrapnel and add in two more joans) #(joan of navarre and joan waryn hal's nurse - joan fitzalan is already there) #reread it recently and thought about how the alternate povs of it would be SO UPSETTING #hal's pov is somewhat kind to the reader because he's pretty out of it #he's either out of it with rudimentary medieval painkillers and anaesthesia or off his face with pain. #there's still emotional shit there but it's filtered through the physical pain and the 'drugs' #everyone else is dealing with the emotional shitshow of seeing someone you love in absolute fucking agony begging to die #while fearing he's going to die and having their own traumas #(i.e. joan fitzalan watching the grandchild that most resembles her dead daughter almost die) #(i.e. edward/aumerle has a brief appearance and you know he's Fucked Up because of losing richard ii and now he's losing hal) #(i.e. richard courtenay is basically 'i will stay here and love him as he dies if he dies' and witnesses every. fucking. thing.) #(i.e. joanne waryn is there and remembering him as a little baby she helped raise.) #(i.e. humphrey is Just A Kid trying to be strong for his big brother and making everything worse for bradmore) #(i.e. scrope can't cope and has to live with the guilt of that and oldcastle is overwrought and causing problems) #(i.e. bradmore is like 'i can see you're in desperate need of a dad. hello desperate need i'm dad. #also. i think your grandma might kill me if you die. so. don't ok?) #(i.e. joan of navarre is meeting her new husband's son for the first time and hoping he doesn't die.) #and hal's just. largely oblivious to all this.

[carmenlire]

sudden urge to write a super soft emo fic. tags include emotional hurt/comfort, secret relationship, and friends to lovers

#as i was writing the tags i decided this would be a ****** fic #where one of them is famous and theyve been friends since school #they've always flirted that line between friends and something more #but neither can stand the thought of potentially ruining the most important relationship in their life #abd things are a thousand tines more complicated when fame enters the mix #i can't decide who's famous and who's not #but person a in the tabloids every week and person b shopping and scoffing as he sees the cover of a magazine in line #texts unanswered for weeks #just for an ostentatious present to appear on person b's doorstep bc person a saw through their priv twitter they won a prestigious award #or are getting an articke published or something #person a getting drunk and goibg to b's place.... always so damn careful not to get caught #person b welcoming them with ooen arms every time. both of them crying over what was and what isnt now and what could be if they just lived #different lives. both of them celebrating their friend anniversary every single year absolutely no exceptions. person a vague posts about it #on main. everyone wants to know who has the privilege of cookibg for person a #person b sad and drunk one night posting about being lonely and tired of being second choice. person a resding that and being so mad at #whiever isnt making him feel loved. not knowing lerson b js talking about him and that he has always been second to fame #both of them so careful but hurting and hurting each other #until things fall apart and the communication fades and it's been a year since their last friend anniversary #neither one wants to go to that old ramen shop but it's the last vestige of what coukd have been #meeting up #spending all night talking. slow at first. getting closer. and the want is there in every word and pause #they kiss and it's nothing. its everything. and the next morning person b wakes up without person a and a note #is on his pillow and all it says is im sorry #person a flies out of the country for work that very morning and both of them are miserable #person b sees person a dating someone in that week's tabloids. he grabs a copy and a bottle of whiskey and emo tweets #person a sees the emo tweets and worries. a has been lovesick and its the final push (with friend help) to #finally just fucking live for himself #person b has a friend who doesnt find out who b is in love with until halfway through the fic and on principle he doesnt like A #and protects b from a ~emotionally #this is taegyu btw and the bestie is soobin. kai and yeonjun are celebs... guess tae is normal and beomgyu is the celeb shere after all