#idk wishing the beat for you anon

[gamblegun]

just wanted to pop in and say that i appreciate your blog, it has given me so much comfort, but i will totally understand and respect you if you delete it. im sorry for all of the hate you've gotten and had to see.

i've been really struggling with how trans men are treated currently and our historical erasure/non-inclusion lately. if i can be completely candid i feel like i no longer belong under the label "trans" and it honestly causes me discomfort. but i'm not cis either. i won't ever go off of T or be a woman or anything like that. i love my body but i don't love being in this community. i honestly can't even connect with the flag anymore. i tried but this recent outpouring of hate has made me realize how forced i felt.

i don't belong and at this point i dont want to mold myself into someone who does. i don't want to be the kind of person that antitransmasc trans people begrudgingly tolerate. i desperately wish i had some kind of third word or third space outside of all of this where i could just exist as a man. i don't care what i am "technically". i just want to be a man and to be left alone about it, not "cis or trans" but Just Some Guy.

reading your thoughts has made me feel less alone as I struggle with this mentality. i haven't found an answer and i doubt anyone will propose or make anything like what i want. but i just wanted to sincerely say. thank you. i would unironically send you $10 if I could (all the spare change I have right now.)

i may privately save some of your posts to re-read when i feel isolated and unheard. if that's not alright please feel free to enforce that boundary and i will respect it.

Hey, first of all I'm sorry you're going through that. I'm glad that my blog has brought some comfort to you, and I hope that wherever you end up and however you decide to conceptualize your identity, you find it fulfilling and peaceful. It's tough rn, I have trouble walking away from this discussion, especially since it tends to jump scare me when I'm engaging with fandom stuff, but a couple months break made me feel better, so I'd suggest setting it down and doing something you enjoy instead if you can. However, I know it isn't really all that simple since a lot of this pertains to irl problems, even just general transmasc isolation, so no judging if you struggle with disengaging. I haven't officially decided to delete this blog, it was mostly a vent post tbh, but feel free to save posts. I have long accepted that whatever I'm sending out into the internet will exist somewhere forevermore lol.

I currently haven't set up anything that I feel like is anonymous enough for my Inflammatory Opinions Blog, and even though I am very open to receiving money lol, I wouldn't want to take your last ten bucks. I'd rather you get a treat for yourself. Personally, I got myself a slice of tres leches cake after work today, it was delicious.

#asks #anons #idk wishing the beat for you anon #honestly I've been learning how to deeply enjoy masculinity and masculine things and that's been making me feel connected with my manhood #maybe you can explore your masculinity in a more enjoyable way though that? #instead of the community #I always feel incredibly presumptive giving any advice #*best #I relate to wanting to be Just a Man OP #I used to think I'd never go dull stealth but as I have progressed in my transition I understand it now #it's the only way to be treated normally even by your allies #*full

[hood-ex]

wait idk anything about the tevis’— why would tommy tevis call dick his son? would you be willing to give a quick rundown

After Dick failed to get himself incarcerated, he became an enforcer for a mob boss named Tommy Tevis. Tommy took Dick in and made him part of his family. Tommy considered him an honorary son and thought very highly of him.

Nightwing (Vol. 2) #107

He even told Dick that everything he had (his home, his reputation, his family, etc.) was Dick's as well. Lynette, Tommy's wife, told Dick that Tommy would let Dick do anything. The whole family loved Dick, including Tommy's 15 year old daughter, Sophia. Sophia actually had a crush on Dick, but Dick acted like an older brother to her, helping her with her homework and such.

While Dick was away from the family for a few days, the cops busted into the Tevis's home. Lynette got killed in the gunfire, Tommy got taken to jail, and Sophia got taken in by the state.

Dick, while mentoring Rose, broke Sophia out of the state home. He got Sophia to help him with the mob. Then, when Chemo fell on Bludhaven, Dick saved Sophia and left her with Amy. When they reunited at the hospital, Dick asked Sophia to leave the mob behind and join a boarding school.

So, yeah, that's Dick's relationship with the Tevis family.

#no but i love when tommy tells dick that bruce must be proud of him--and dick gets this shameful look on his face and stays quiet #and then tommy playfully pinches dick's cheek and tells him not to worry bc he thinks dick is great/he thinks highly of dick #i mean say what you want about tommy being in the mob and all--but he does seem to be tuned in to dick's emotions #and when the other mobster was kinda grilling dick about being bruce's heir--tommy was frowning real hard on dick's behalf #and he later checked in with dick and was like hey that was kind of shitty and i don't want you feeling like your back's against the wall #like idk it just shows that tommy does care about dick--and he knows bruce is a sore spot for dick #dick--on the other hand--is a bit more emotionally distant from the family #he's just gone through some very traumatizing events and now he's doing some morally questionable things #so there's no way he can be truly authentic with the family when his whole lifestyle is now inauthentic to who he really is #and we see that when dick goes on a job that has a kid involved--and he didn't know there would be a kid there #and he gets very upset about a gun being involved and having a kid watch her dad get beat #so even though he might care about the tevis family--i don't think he could ever feel Truly part of the family #honestly wish a writer would bring back sophia though. would be nice to see dick still in contact with her #Dick Grayson #Tommy Tevis #anon

[earthtooz]

how would you write wriothesley needing reassurance?

x : TO LOVE A GOOD THING :*+ﾟ

in which: wriothesley thinks he loves you more than you love him.

warnings: 1.4k words, reverse hurt/comfort with angst, wrio being insecure sorry, gn!hot-headed!reader, reader gets into a fight, wrio patches you up.

a/n: thank u @sixosix for helping me out during my my hard times. this fic was already half written before I got this ask but then it was like the stars aligned and anon came to save a fic that might have never made it out of the drafts. anyways, idk if the writing is good, but i came, i saw, i conquered. enjoy!

Wriothesley thinks he loves you more than you love him.

If he voiced these thoughts to you, you’d shut him down without another breath. He can almost picture it now, the way your nose would scrunch as a precursor to all the statements you will make rejecting his. He can hear all the things you’d say, insisting ‘that’s just not true!’, and then he’ll laugh to cover up the way his chest will swell with pure adoration. 

But it is true. 

Loving you is easier than breathing. The heart that sits in his chest beats harder for you than the circulation of oxygen in his lungs, but he breathes because it keeps him alive. If he’s alive, then he gets to see you, the best thing that’s happened to him his entire, unfortunate life. 

He thinks he loves you more than you love him because you once told him your favourite flowers were glaze lilies. However, when you complained that they only bloomed during the night, Wriothesley knew that he would wrestle the sun just so the moon could shine a little longer. 

He thinks he loves you more than you love him because you linger in the crevices of his mind. Down in the Fortress of Meropide, the days may pass excruciatingly slow sometimes and the only cure for him is yearning for the one he loves most. Perhaps if he wishes hard enough, you’ll burst through those doors with a declaration of a new discovery and sit on his desk, avoiding the paperwork. 

Most times, his wishful thinking doesn’t work out. On the rare occasion it does, Wriothesley will be fortunate enough to end the work day with your palms on his cheeks, gently motivating him to finish what’s left. 

You’ll peel stickers off his body, ignorant of the fact that he saves them up just for an excuse to feel your hands on him, then he’ll kiss you in thanks, eyes fluttering closed. Near you, he can finally let his guard down, let the gauntlets and coat fall as he sinks into you. 

Wriothesley already feels bad whenever you come down to a place so unforgiving and confronting. He tries to brighten up the place sometimes, but metal can only shine so much before it rusts again. 

Is it pathetic to want to better yourself for another person? Or is it love?

Wriothesley thinks he loves you more than you love him, and he’s perfectly fine to continue living with that fact. As long as he’s the one you return to every night, he’ll be fine to live with whatever burdens you press onto him.

He just didn’t expect that one of said ‘burdens’ would result with you, Sigewinne’s infirmary, and your face littered with cuts and bruises. 

“You should have seen the other guy,” is your poor attempt at humour as your lover frets everywhere, pacing back and forth as the small nurse tends to you. His heavy boots resounding against metal floors.

“Seriously, Y/n, what were you thinking?” The warden clearly isn’t amused by your joke, the only thing keeping him back from completely lecturing you is Sigewinne and that stun gun of hers. 

A small yelp slips past your lips when she applies some balm on your sore knuckles and Wriothesley winces, as if feeling your pain. “They were talking bad about you, Wriothesley, what did you want me to do?”

“Nothing!”

Sigewinne gives him a look. He immediately shuts his mouth. “I can’t do that,” you insist.

“You can, and you should’ve. I can defend my own honour. Besides, you didn’t need to lower yourself to the level of crooks just to prove a point.”

“But-”

“-The guys you beat up were just admitted here. Normally after receiving a life’s sentence, the first name that’s slandered is mine as an outlet for anger. This is normal, Y/n, they’ll continue on to realise that the Fortress of Meropide is not their standard prison and reform. You, however, might have just set back their progress.”

Your head drops, a little in shame, but mostly because you don’t have anything to say in retaliation. Silence envelops the dim space, none of you brave enough to break the tension that came from Wriothesley’s scolding. With a few final words from Sigewinne about what medicine to apply, when, and what not to do, she leaves the room quite hurriedly, as if eager to let you and Wriothesley talk about it alone.

Immediately, he crosses the room to where you sit, closing in on your personal space. 

“The things they were saying about you were unforgivable. Meropide’s great duke may forgive, but I won’t.” 

“Nothing is as unforgivable as you getting hurt.” Care laces his voice this time when he talks to you. 

“You won’t throw me in prison for this, right?” You ask with a bashful smile, one that sends him reeling.

“Not prison, no,” he coughs. “However, I can’t not reprimand you.”

“Fine. I guess this just means that I love you more.”

He knows you’re kidding, that you’re only trying to make him feel better because the grin on your face is nothing short of mischievous. Part of him falters, cracks like an earthquake splitting the land apart and pulling him under. To stabilise himself, his rough palms find purchase on both sides of your jaw and his forehead is pressed flushed to yours.

(You don’t love him more, how can you love someone as ragged as him?)

“Impossible,” he murmurs against your mouth. 

“Really, let these bruises be a reminder,” you chuckle. His thumb ghosts over a bruise on your cheek and his heart aches at the way you wince, even if just slightly. If it weren’t for him, you wouldn’t be here, sat on a hospital bed with wounds he inadvertently caused.

You wouldn’t be here, in a dingy, dreary Fortress that you’re only obligated to visit because of him.

(Oh, but he hopes you never leave. The day you go and never come back is the day Wriothesley will turn all of Teyvat upside down just to search for you. Where is his place if not by your side?)

There’s a warm poke to his cheek that’s quickly followed by a damp residual. Wriothesley quickly realises that you wiped a tear away, and he curses the following few that spill. You shouldn’t waste your efforts on him: a man half-coherent, and wholly undeserving of you.

“Love, oh, love,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to the bruised area. “Why did you do this?” 

“I already told you,” you hum. “Because I love you.”

“I’m not worth it.”

Your hand stills. “What do you mean by that?”

“This happened because of me,” there’s pain in Wriothesley’s voice when it cracks. “You didn’t need to harm yourself for me, I’m more of a burden than you think, Y/n, nothing good will come out of loving me too much.”

For a second, everything stills. The beating of his heart, your breathing, the dull humming of the fortress’ mechanics, it all becomes silenced. The world only kicks up again when you speak.

“How could you say that about yourself?” You reprimand, shaking his face lightly. “A ‘burden’? Are you hearing yourself right now, Wriothesley? You’re not making any sense right now!”

There’s a passionate look in your eyes. One he doesn’t think a man like him deserves.

“I do not love you for ‘good things’ to come out of them, I love you because you are the good thing, and I will do anything for you to remain the way you are.”

Oh, he might cry again. Are there tears in the corners of his eyes? How can he help it when you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him?

“Don’t write me off as some poor soul whose subjected to your love,” you whisper, but he hangs on to every word you say. “Your love is not a burden I bear, but rather, the most fortunate thing I’ve ever had the luxury of cherishing.”

Unable to hold himself back any longer, Wriothesley presses his lips to yours in an all-consuming kiss. He drinks up all of your praise and lets it settle in his gut to bloom, untethering himself from the chains that rubbed his wrists raw. You love him, you love him more than he thought possible. 

How lucky he is that you pull him closer, selfishly taking all of him.

© EARTHTOOZ 2023, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

#earthtooz: genshin impact #wriothesley x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #wriothesley fic #wriothesley x you

[bedoballoons]

I’m back

I’m not sure if you write wlw or nblw/gnlw or anything like that but hear me out

anyway I was thinking, imagine the (fem! Or gn!) mechanic reader (yes my genshin self insert is a mechanic and I’m delulu) with lyney or Furina, or any other characters you wanna add if you want (idk how this works). Where the characters keep breaking things on purpose just so that the reader can come over and fix it and so they get to see reader. The reader catches on and teases the character. (You can make it lead to nfsw or not if you want ;) )

also I’ll give myself an emoji so here’s mine

-💫

I do any forms of relationships as long as they aren't incest or pedophilia! I absolutely love this idea!! I think it's super cute so I hope you don't mind but I decided to make it fluffy!! Enjoy and thank you for requesting <3

P.s Can I call you the starstruck anon?

─⊰⁠⊹ฺ🍂𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤⊰⁠⊹ฺ🍂

{༻~Just one more thing before you go~༺}

CW: Super sweet fluff! Reader works as a mechanic and the characters keep calling them up to fix things so they can spend time with them!

(Includes: Lyney, Navia, and Furina!)

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

𑁍༄Lyney:

Lyney kneeled down beside you, trying his best not to get in your way as you worked on the latest broken thing in his home...he just couldn't help it. Whenever he was near you it was like his heart decided to do its own performance, beating faster and skipping whenever your eyes landed on him...because of this sometimes the simple machinery he used in his home...would mysteriously end up not working, "So how goes the fixing hmm? My apologies for having to call you out here again, usually I'd just have Freminet take a look but he's currently busy"

"Seems to me like someone's intentionally sabotaging your heater...they even left the screwdriver inside of it." You turned to him with a sly smirk playing on your features, holding the screwdriver up to him so he could read Freminets name from it. The blush that followed was so adorable you couldn't help but tease him a little, "If you wanted me to spend time with you Lyney, you could have just asked~"

𑁍༄Navia:

"I truly cannot thank you enough for coming to my rescue again. It seems every time you leave the Spina di Rosula has yet another problem to fix...of course it's not particularly a bad thing because I enjoy your company immensely." The beautiful blonde chuckled nervously, trying to get ahold of herself before she ended up confessing her feelings to you, she was honestly shocked she hadn't yet..

"I'm always here whenever you need me Navia, it's definitely not a bad thing for me. I get to hang out with a goregous woman and get VIP treatment from the Spina."

"You're always welcome to anything here at-...I'm sorry did you just call me goregous?"

"Well...I figured since you're always bringing me here to fix things you've clearly sabotaged, it's only fair a make a little advancement myself.~"

The poor girl's face heated up, you'd figured it out? How long had you known?! "I- oh my..."

𑁍༄Furina:

"I truthfully have no idea how anyone expects a archon to live under such conditions, every time I go to use something it's no longer working. If I didn't have you'd I'd surely have left this place for something better by now." Furina talked away while you worked, trying to act as normally abnormal as ever...even though inside her emotions were on a rampage. If only you knew she wanted so desperately to play the part of your lover more than any other role, she'd even sabotaged her own residence so she could see you more often.

"I actually believe I've found a solution to keep things from breaking...if the archon so wished to hear it."

She went dead silent, unable to fathom how you could possibly stop anything in her house from breaking, "The archon wishes to, even someone with my divinity can't even think how a simple human could make something no longer able to break, I'd love to see what maniac idea you've come up with."

"Its actually very easy, all I have to do is ask if you'd like to go out sometime. Then we could spend time together without you needing to break things~"

"I-i what on earth are you talking about? I wouldn't break something just to spend time with someone, I am a archon with a busy life. I don't have the time for such nons-"

"Lady Furina..."

"Yes?"

"You left your glove in the pipe."

"..."

"May I take you out on a date?"

"...yes you may..."

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚~Have a nice day~*⁠.⁠✧

#genshin impact #genshin headcanons #genshin #genshin fanfic #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin imagines #genshin scenarios #lyney x reader #lyney headcanons #lyney fluff #lyney x you #furina x reader #furina x you #furina #furina headcanons #furina fluff #naviafluff #naviaheadcanons #navia x you #navia x reader #genshin navia #navia fluff

[kirain]

what do you think of this post about Gale? I saw it today and idk how to feel about it. h t t p s : // www. tumblr. com / galahadwilder / 741497332636467200

I couldn't disagree with it more, to be honest.

First of all, and I can't stress this enough, Mystra doesn't care about her followers. She cares about the state of the Weave and nothing more. If her followers don't worship her, if they're not useful to her, if they don't serve her purpose, they mean nothing to her. After she abandoned Gale, she had no interest in him until she realised she could use him to stop the Absolute—and she only wanted to stop the Absolute because it threatened the Weave. In general, Mystra doesn't care what people use magic for either, be it the most admirable heroics or the most depraved insanity you can imagine.

Case and point: Lorroakan. He is an arrogant wizard, far worse than Gale could ever hope to be, who uses magic for pure evil. When he beat Rolan, he undoubtedly used magic to do it. Do you think Mystra cared? Nope. You can help that nutjob achieve his goals, kill a demigod, turn him immortal, and give him free reign to abuse magic any way he wishes, but do you think Mystra cares? Nope. She doesn't. She doesn't care about people unless they benefit her. In fact, all three iterations of Mystra have a vast history of grooming, flat out 🍇, and the forced impregnation of unsuspecting mortal women. Despite being neutral good, Mystra is and has always been extremely vain, selfish, jealous, and problematic.

With that in mind, I'd like to break this post down piece by piece. Also, please be aware that when I use the word "you", I don't mean you specifically, anon. I'm more so addressing anyone who might be reading.

PS: Please no one harass this person's post. Their opinion is their own, and it's very respectful. At the end of the day, we're just talking about a video game.

Mystra didn't tell Gale not to juggle the torches. She didn't even tell him it was a torch. She let him go on believing it was a part of her missing Weave. Had she told him the truth, he would've stayed away. That's why he's so shocked in Act 3, when she finally reveals it's the Karsite Weave. He had no idea, and she likely never intended to tell him. She didn't before he went off in search of it, and she didn't the entire time he was locked away in his tower, scared and suffering. I can't for the life of me figure out why she wouldn't warn him, but I can only assume it's because she expected absolute obedience, or because she was getting bored of him and wanted him to mess up.

Whatever her reasons, she didn't tell Gale to leave the orb alone because he was "worthy" already. He clearly wasn't in her eyes, because he wanted her to see him as an equal. He wanted her to share her knowledge with him, which is perfectly fair in a healthy relationship. If you're dating a god and they treat you like a worshipper—that's all you are to them. A worshipper. A plaything. You're beneath them. You're unworthy. She told Gale to leave the orb alone because she wanted him to be complacent. She wanted to keep him in servitude. That's what she wants from all of her followers, though it's even worse when it's her lover.

In almost every story where a mortal loves a god, the mortal is either ascended into the heavens or the god gives up their divinity. And this isn't even specific to gods, but also vampires, werewolves, elves, and so on. Arwen, for example, gives up her immortality to be with Aragorn. Bella becomes a vampire to be with Edward. Hercules gives up his divinity to be with Meg. Elisa Esposito becomes aquatic to be with the creature. These are common tropes because it makes the couples equal.

Mystra contradicts herself by saying Gale was "always worthy", because her actions don't reflect it. He was a worthy distraction from her job, sure, but not worthy enough for her to treat him like an equal. So in order to prove it to her, to prove his love and devotion, he went after the one thing he knew she wanted—her missing Weave. Yes, she told him not to, and I agree he should've respected that, but this is on par with a woman telling her husband not to buy a bracelet she really, really wants because it's too expensive. If your husband worked extra hours and saved up enough to buy you that bracelet, would you divorce him?

Gale was completely unaware of the danger. He basically thought he was getting Mystra a bracelet. Had she taken the time to explain it to him, the whole catastrophe could have been avoided. He was just a hopeless romantic who wanted to surprise his girlfriend and prove he belonged at her side. The same girlfriend who very well could have made him her equal and shared her knowledge, but chose not to. Why? Because she's selfish. She didn't want an equal, she wanted a servant. We know this because, if you romance and ascend Gale, he will ascend you alongside him and give you your own domain! Mystra had the power to do this, or at least the ability to slowly ease him into it, but she refused. No matter how much he pleaded and proved his devotion to her, she refused.

Mystra did not save Gale when the orb embedded itself in his chest. He survived only because it fed on his gifts. He says as much, and so does she when you go to see her at the Temple. That's why, when we first meet him, he admits he used to be better at magic. He was once exceedingly powerful, but the orb basically knocked him down to level one. Mystra was perfectly happy to let him scramble to find items to absorb, knowing that he would inevitably run out and erupt. When we give him his third item in Act 1, the orb is becoming quenchless, and he knows his time is nigh. Mystra has nothing to do with satiating the orb until Act 2 and 3, and only because he becomes her wild card.

Gale: Mystra will consider forgiveness?

Elminster: She will consider ... what she considers to be forgiveness.

Even Elminster, her most faithful Chosen, knows her "forgiveness" isn't really forgiveness. It's an ultimatum. Do this for me and be welcomed into my hall, or die and literally go to hell. Why would Mystra make this offer? Well, because why else would Gale agree to kill himself only to end up in the Wall of the Faithless? How would that motivate him? Mystra didn't make this offer out of the kindness of her heart, she made it because she was desperate. Had the opportunity never presented itself, she would've let him die and suffer for all eternity, and possibly take hundreds of innocent people with him in the blast. She. Doesn't. Care. 🤷‍♀️

Now, one could argue Gale was asking for too much, but I'm going to have to call bullshit on that. First of all, Mystra showed him things no mortal has ever seen. It's only fair he'd want to share her world and learn as much as possible. Imagine if the Doctor from Doctor Who picked up some random people and took them on breathtaking adventures, but the audience got mad at them for wanting to see as much as they could. Amy, Clara, Rose, etc.—none of them could live a normal life after meeting him, and they wanted to learn as much about the universe as possible. But everyone loves those characters. They don't get mad. There's even several episodes where the companions call the Doctor out for not treating them as equals, and he admits he's wrong for doing that and adjusts his way of thinking.

I would argue that the only real divide between Mystra and Shar/Vlaakith is that Mystra doesn't inflict physical pain ... most of the time. That's it. Vlaakith and Shar only care about themselves and the effectiveness of their followers, but the exact same applies to Mystra. She is the Weave, and she only cares about the Weave; therefore, she only cares about herself. She had ample opportunity to help Gale or tell him the truth, but she didn't until it was convenient for her. The gods of D&D are basically the Greek Pantheon gods—a bunch of assholes toying with mortals, regardless of their alignment. The odd one is decent, but most are only out for themselves and their rule. Now, I will concur that Mystra is hardly the worst deity (in fact, she's unfortunately one of the better ones), but she's still not great and Gale is her victim.

To get a little controversial, I think the writers made a mistake. I know what they were going for, but I think they lost it along the way. At first, I was ready to stand with everyone and admit he belonged in the quintessential "overreaching wizard full of hubris" category, but upon researching the lore, getting to know Gale better, and doing several different playthroughs, I've come to vehemently disagree. First of all, before 5E (the current D&D edition), becoming a god was the ultimate goal for a lot of players, and that was perfectly acceptable, with many DMs providing celestial paths to make it possible. Moreover, many of the current gods were once human themselves, including Mystra!

Second, it's only hubris if you fail. Gale can ascend. He can succeed. Although it's not the canon outcome I would choose for him, he is right about the crown. He does his research and figures out how to reforge it. And he doesn't seek godhood to be worshipped, he seeks it to either free himself (and all mortals) from Mystra's chains, or for her to acknowledge and love him as an equal. His arrogance stems from insecurity; an insecurity Mystra herself planted and cultivated, and in the end he's not really arrogant atfter all. Does him wanting to be Mystra's equal make him selfish? Well, I suppose that depends on how you answer these questions:

Is your partner equal to you? If you don't think so, why are you leading them on? Why wouldn't you take steps to help them become your equal? Why are you holding them back instead of propping them up? If they show interest in your life, in your world, in the things you can do, why would you keep it to yourself, especially when you have the time and resources to share it?

Just some ambrosia for thought. 😉

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #bg3 tav #mystra #all my homies hate mystra

[azsazz]

Secrets in the Shadows

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Anon Request: but azriel edging himself with his shadows 🙇‍♀️

Warnings: Masturbation, shadow-play, chastity "belt".

Word Count: 1,446

Notes: Idk if I did this justice but I really tried lol

_________________________________________

He tried to get away, tried avoiding you at all costs, but that tether inside of him had strung a knot around your heart and there was no untying it, no hope in slicing through the golden tendril that lets him know your every emotion. Not even Truth-Teller can cut through that, and Azriel had used it more times than he could count, to flay skin from bone and muscle from beating heart. He was a sick thing, a peculiar glint in his eye as he watched his victims squirm, but even the warmth of their blood on his hands was nothing like a touch from you.

Azriel groans, letting his head fall back against the onyx headboard at his back. He can see it clearly, the memory of the gentlest touch on his arm as you’d made a move to pass behind him to dip into the den after the hearty meal shared with the Inner Circle. He’d felt the way your heart kicked up in your chest at the slight touch because his did too, even if he’d stilled instead of clung to you like he secretly wanted. He curses, dragging his palms up his chest while his shadows constrict around his cock. They’re nothing like your soft hands, from days spent baking and reading, while his are war-broken and mutilated, but the roughness from the pads of his fingers against his pert nipples is pleasurable nonetheless, and if he tries hard enough, he can imagine it’s you.

“Oh, fuck,” he hisses between clenched teeth. The darkness makes him shiver, staves off the building orgasm threatening to send his mind to the stars as a tendril of shadow slides across his slit, smearing the pearl of precum beading at the tip as it slithers around his length like a constricting snake. The broad expanse of his chest heaves as he pictures your delicate fingers mimicking the motion, the fragile breath you’d blow over the wetness as you eye him through thick lashes from your knees.

He buries one hand in his hair, pulling at the shaggy locks. He hasn’t had the time lately for a haircut. Oftentimes, his mind is filled with all things you, consuming more of his day than he ever thought possible. By the time he drags himself from his daydreams, it’s night again and his cock is achingly hard in his trousers.

But you don’t know. How could you? It’s not like he’s ever made a move that could be read as anything more than friendly. You’re mates, sure, but you don’t know that. It’s Azriel’s agonizing burden to carry until you realize it on your own, and until then, he’ll use his hands and his imagination to satiate him.

Shadows slide up the planes of his taut body, coiled tightly with anticipation. The ones dancing around his leaking cock swirl around his balls as he gets a hand on himself, pumping himself in rough, long strokes like he’s a teenager again, getting himself off for the first time.

Azriel wishes it were you, teasing him, using his shadows to taunt him because he has no doubts that they will bend to your will as easily as he does. He’d be on his knees before the words even left your mouth if that is what you wanted. But for now, in the privacy of his own room, he pictures the way that you’d ride him, knees clamped tightly to his slim waist as you swirl your hips with fervor, head thrown back and mouth wide open with pleasured moans spilling from those perfect lips. His hands would trail up the smooth skin of your thighs, across your stomach and pinching at your nipples before he’d ultimately pull you tightly into his chest, holding on to you the way he clings to his weapons, all so he can plant his feet in the sheets and fuck up into your tight cunt that’s shaped perfectly for his cock. He squeezes his eyes shut tightly as his gut coils with anticipation, but his shadows pull taut, cutting off any of the enjoyable feeling of his budding orgasm.

Choking, he tries to calm himself, ragged breaths wracking his body as his hand stills, then falls away, letting his shadows resume their eager work. Always so willing to please their master, and he can feel their excitement in the way that they move, wrap around him as if to mimic the exact way you’d touch him. 

Maybe he deserves it, the way that he tortures himself for you. The way he uses his shadows to keep himself from cumming too quickly, all thoughts solely on you. He’s terrified of letting any feelings leak through the bond, but it’s a one-way rippling path through his body to an unknowing participant, and he doesn’t want you to find out this way.

“Fuck it,” he growls. He needs the release, needs his vibrating body to calm down so that he can try and sleep because he has training in the morning and you’ll be there, so he needs to wake up extra early so that he can find release before arriving to practice. He just knows you’ll be wearing your tight-fitted leathers, that leave nothing to the imagination, and there’s only so long he can keep his cock tucked into the waistband of his own so no one notices how fucking hard he gets just by looking at you.

Azriel tries to grab a hold of his cock again but his shadows bat his hand away. He looks down to find that they’ve woven themselves together to form a snug cage around his cock, keeping him from touching himself or finding the release he’s so desperately craving. He glares at the shadows slithering their way up his chest, poking at his sensitive sides like they’re trying to nip at him. Two swirl around his nipples and his head melts back into the pillow with a moan as one writhes its way between the mattress and his back, sliding down his spine.

They part ways as they reach his broad shoulders, some making way for his face. They coil around his ears carrying whispers of your voice, bits of conversations melded together to make it sound like you’re talking to him. A soft gasp from when you’d claimed he’d snuck up on you, a gentle moan as you tried that pastry he’d brought back for you. They relay the way you say his name, when you’re in awe of him and his moves to best Cassian in the training ring. When you’re exasperated, because maybe he does sneak up on you sometimes, to catch a whiff of your scent and because he loves that look you get on your face when he does. When he lets his shadows shroud you like excited pups, making you giggle his name for mercy.

A broken groan escapes his lips. Shadows slip through his hair like fingers, pulling at his dark locks and he’d be shocked at how real they feel if he wasn’t so close to cumming, but the shadows wrapped tightly around his throbbing cock keep him from doing so.

More shadows trail across his silky, sensitive wings like the brush of a tongue or a gentle caress that has him vibrating with need. His chest heaves as he wills the shadows caging his cock to his chest away, but they only tighten. His orgasm is building again, body hot as he writhes in his bed while they do their worst.

It’s nearly too much, the way they’re playing with every inch of him, stimulating every part of him that needs to be filled by you. It’s your touch all over his body, your voice he hears in his ears and your face burning bright behind his eyelids. His fingers twist in the sheets, swallowing down the urge to keen and whimper for release.

He’s right on the cusp of cumming when they all disappear. Azriel gasps painfully, hand flying to his neglected cock on a warrior's instinct. He has no time to worry or scold them for their behavior because with a few harsh, fast strokes, he’s falling into oblivion, stars bursting behind his eyes as he streams white, hot rivulets up his chest.

He hums your name like a sin, working himself through his orgasm. He tugs at his cock until it’s too sensitive for him to touch, and Azriel doesn’t care that his chest is gleaming with his cum, until his breathing is even and it’s turned cool. Then, and only then, does he slip silently from his bed into his bathing room, thoughts on you once again. 

#azriel #azriel x reader #azriel/reader #acotar #acomaf #acowar #azsazz #shadowsinger #azriel smut

[issdisgrace]

Heyy! I have a request.

Literally Patrick Bateman x reader. Patrick is lowkey down bad for the reader 😫

IDK BUT IM SO GAY FOR HIM

HIS

WARNINGS: None

A/N: I hope this is what you wanted and I hope you like this anon. Also thanks for the follow up message telling me it was x male reader. I appreciated that.

I watch as Y/n discusses something with Paul Allen. His hair was neatly gelled back like usual. His black Giorgio Armani suit, crisp and well tailored to his body and his black Christian Louboutin’s shining, no creases or scuff marks on them. The silver Rolex on his left wrist complimenting the 2 silver signet rings on his left pinky and right index, respectively. He looked like a statue of a Greek god, sculpted to perfection. I wonder how sculpted he is underneath his clothes. Patrick stops. He’s your superior. You shouldn’t be thinking of him in such a way. But look at him, he’s gorgeous. God his voice so deep, so smooth, so perfect like a well-tuned baritone violin. The smirk that dances on his lips fitting him perfectly. Oh god, Patrick stops. 

I pull my thoughts from Y/n and back to the conversation at hand.

“So, Bateman heard you got a new business card. Let us see,” Bryce says. 

I pull my silver card case from the inside pocket of my Valentino Couture suit. Flipping the case open, I take a card out and set it down, sliding it across the table.

“Bone and the lettering is something called Silian Rail.”

“Impressive, but not as impressive as this,” Van Patten says sliding his own card across the table. However, before he can say anything further, he is interrupted.

“Bateman, Patrick Bateman, just the man I was looking for.” I know who it is without looking up, Y/n. I can smell his Dior Fahrenheit cologne. It smells of wood and leather with a nice citrus undertone. My heart skips a beat as I look up at him and meet his eyes. “I have an account I want to bring you in on. I’ve heard good things about you. Heres my card so you can call me later and we can discuss the details.” Y/n says, pulling out a sleek ebony card with Cortez lettering in silver from his own silver card case. The card was just as perfect and as gorgeous as him. Grabbing it from him our fingers brush and I feel a shiver go up my spine. Slotting his card away in the inner pocket of my suit jacket. 

“I’ll definitely give you a call.” I say, reaching out for a handshake. 

“Good to hear.” You say reciprocating the handshake. I feel myself getting a little hot under the collar. Now I’m hyper aware of just how close I am to him. This is the closet I managed to get to him since last year’s Christmas party hosted by whoever. His hands are soft, with a slight roughness to them. I wonder what they would feel like around my neck. I quickly shake myself out of that thought. I pull my hand back despite wishing I could continue to hold his hand. Y/n then bids goodbye before leaving. My eyes trail after him, his cologne still lingering in the air and the only thought in my head is how am I going to get into his bed.

#patrick bateman #slasher #patrick bateman x male reader #patrick bateman x reader #slasher x male reader #slasher x reader

[vamossainz55]

yo no soy celoso - carlos sainz jr.

summary: inspired by 'yo no soy celoso' by bad bunny. or the one where carlos watches you be with another. a/n: idk how i feel about this one, but i really liked the idea so here it is. thank you for the request anon, i hope you enjoy! warnings: angst/bittersweet? not a happy ending.

Four drinks in and his eyes are still glued on you. He wonders whether the fifth will make it better, or if it will somehow make everything even worse. 

The club’s music doesn’t help, the beat only encourages you to continue dancing, front and center on the dancefloor with your arms wrapped around another man’s neck. 

He remembers when it was him on the dancefloor with you, his hands on your waist with his lips on your neck. He wonders whether the guy you’re with knows the way you like a tight grip on your hips, or the sweet spot right between your jaw and neck. 

It’s the first time he sees you in months, and he’s too proud of himself to admit that there’s a mixture of feelings in his chest. You look different, the good type of different, happy even. You hadn’t even flinched the moment you both greeted each other earlier that evening, wearing a smile that had your eyes crinkling. 

He watches you smile at the man, the way your hand gently goes through his hair before you’re both connecting lips. Carlos doesn’t even bother to be discreet, watching you both as he continues to take a sip of his drink. 

The vodka is heavy on his tongue as he swallows, feeling the burn travel through his body. 

He remembers the countless nights out you’ve both shared, messy make outs in the club before scurrying home with your hands all over one another. He wonders whether you’ll do the same tonight. 

“At this point, it’s just a bit sad.” Lando’s words go right through him, and Carlos doesn’t even bother to spare his old teammate a glance. The British driver doesn’t seem to care though, settles beside Carlos anyways. Lando’s gaze follows his eyes and they both are watching you now. They watch you pull away with a smile, stealing a quick kiss before you turn, pressing your back against the man’s chest. 

Carlos remembers the last conversation you both shared, the screams you both let out to one another. Months of pent up frustration culminating to a night of yelling, tears, and hurtful words. He remembers walking away from you that night, saying it was the last of it, that he wasn’t ready to give you what you wanted. 

He wonders if he should have tried a bit harder. 

Wonders if the guy you’re with will do better. 

“Who is he?” Carlos asks, and for what feels like the first time this evening he looks away from you, gaze falling onto Lando instead. 

“Her boyfriend, they’ve been going out for like a few months now.” It’s not the answer Carlos wants, but he appreciates the truth nonetheless, but even then he has to wash it away with what’s remaining in his glass. 

It’s ironic really, the way he had walked away from you that night, just to find himself staring at an empty glass in a club with you dancing meters away from him but with another form of company. 

It’s selfish, but a part of him wishes you had taken longer to move on, and maybe, just maybe, the night would end differently. 

Maybe you’d both have too many drinks.

Maybe you’d dance. 

Maybe you’d kiss. 

Maybe you’d stumble back into old habits together, wake up the next morning with your limbs tangled with one another’s. And maybe, just maybe, he’d finally have the courage to commit, to promise you something different. 

Carlos’ eyes go back to you, watches how your fingers intertwine with your boyfriend’s. You whisper something to his ear before he’s nodding, turning his body, and Carlos knows you, knows that you’re both about to leave.

For a moment your eyes meet and you spare him a smile. He forces himself to smile back. 

His eyes follow you both to the exit, watching the way you both disappear through the door. 

Carlos wonders.

#carlos sainz jr #carlos sainz drabble #carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz x y/n #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x you #f1 fiction #f1 x reader #f1 x you #formula one x you #formula one x reader #formula one imagine #carlos sainz imagine #f1 imagine #cs55 #carlos sainz

[cowboyfromh3ll]

Charles smith is usually a very quiet, reserved man. But when he hears Micah insult fem!reader (Whom charles is sweet on) for rejecting his advances, the reader pushes him away, which he responded with slapping her hard enough for her to fall down.

Charles couldn't help himself, and he tackled Micah and would have beat him to death if Arthur and John didn't pull him on.

Afterwards, after his adrenaline seems to wear off, he starts to feel pain in his knuckles. The reader pulls him aside to set his broken knuckle back into place and to wrap his hand up. She thanks him with a kiss :) fluffy, angsty, the works <3

Million Dollar Man

(Charles Smith x Fem!Reader)

This was so cute. I love my followers' reqs. Also I have a near identical request after this which is kinda freaky but they are literally asking for the exact same thing and idk how to do a different spin on this so this will be for both of y'all anons whoever you are.

Warnings: Man on woman violence, then man on man

There was something about the vulgarity of a man that made you all the more appalled with them. Often when Micah would be near you, you’d have to swallow hard in fear that you might abruptly throw up on your shoes. There was nothing appealing about the man. Whenever he spoke to you, you would’ve liked to wring his neck for disturbing your peace. And his tepid attempts at flirting were described as otherwise laughable. His initial advances were turned down politely, not something you wanted to make a big deal out of. But he was consistent, so much so that your patience began to wear down with him. 

You once giggled and waved your hand dismissively, repeating reluctant no’s over and over until Micah finally got tired and left you alone. It seemed to be a ticking time bomb though, because the next time he approached you his advances would increase tenfold. Walking around freely in camp felt like walking on eggshells, and you’d often have to duck behind someone anytime you heard the familiar raspy, drawl of Micah. Your polite refusals slowly transformed into you demanding he leave you alone, hoping and praying that one of the men in camp would come over and help you get rid of him. Occasionally it’d get as bad as Micah calling you a whore, before throwing a flurry of other insults at you and storming off angrily. It was times like these you wished you were a man, so you could possess the same mass as one to hopefully beat the hell out of Micah. But your limber body provided no such abilities. 

“C’mon sweetheart, just let me take you on one date.” He invited himself over to your tent, leaning on the wagon situated behind it with crossed arms, eyeing you uncomfortably. You were sitting there with Mary-Beth, who was just as uncomfortable, and frankly scared, as you were. She offered you a sympathetic look, mouthing a “sorry” to you before averting her gaze back to her sewing. 

“Micah, for the last time, leave me alone already. I said no.” You were firm in your inflection, your body rigid and shaking out of irritation and fear. As much as you hated the man, he also intimidated you. You knew how violent he could get, and the fact remained in the back of your mind always. 

“You don’t know what you’re missing out on.” He insisted, chuckling afterwards in a way that made you swallow a gag of disgust. His attempts at having a sugar sweet laugh that could seduce you were fruitless, sounding instead like the metallic screech of a train braking. 

“I could show you a real good time…” He added.

You stood at once, gathering your things to move elsewhere in camp and bidding Mary-Beth a silent farewell. You bunched your fabrics and sewing materials against your lap, moving to walk away until you felt Micah clamp his hand down on your upper arm. You tried to push him off but he was using all his strength. 

“You ain’t going nowhere.”

“Micah, you're hurting me.” You warned him, your voice inflected with actual fear. It wasn’t so much the pain but the act of him holding onto you that felt so awful, the knowledge that he was the one in control of the situation. You weren’t sure, despite his violent streak, if he’d actually hit you right now. But he definitely wasn’t opposed to using applied force.

“This is the last time you say no to me, you hear?!” He yanked you towards him by the arm, looking to Mary-Beth, who had already gone up and left to retrieve someone for help. When your chest met his, you dropped your materials and instinctively put up your arm between the two of you, your elbow acting as a protective barrier. You shoved as hard as you could, just barely managing to push him off of you. 

“Let me go you fucking creep!”

Before you could even register him stepping forward, he delivered a heavy slap to your face. Your body jerked to one side from the force of the slap causing you to fall on your hip. You raised your elbow once again to protect yourself from the fall, promptly moving to cup your stinging cheek. You were seething at this point. 

“What the fuck?!” Your voice trembled in your rage, squeezing your eyes hard with each blink so as to not allow tears to escape. You dare not look up at him again in fear, only staring at the ground beneath you. You hoped to god people from around camp had noticed by now. 

God himself seemed to have answered your prayers, because not a second later you turned to see Micah tackled by Charles. With a guttural yell, he pinned Micah down to the floor, swinging his fists at him with his full force. You weren’t sure of the force intended by Charles, but the impact of his fists alone caused Micah’s flesh to lacerate, forming raw gashes that began to bleed in seconds. Charles’ anger was near animalistic, seeing red and blinded by rage as he continued to strike Micah’s face, who was helplessly clawing at him in an attempt to get him off. You’re sure he would’ve killed him, if not for the fact that Arthur and John had to pry him off. You hadn’t even registered the horrified screams of people around camp, some even clicking their tongues and slyly commenting that Micah was asking for it.

You felt two gentle hands lift you up, presumably Miss Grimshaw, who was frantically asking you if you were alright. You whispered out a yes, the stinging of your cheek reduced to a throbbing warmth. No one offered Micah any help in getting up; everyone was far too focused on getting Charles’ to calm down so he wouldn’t charge him again. 

Once the dust settled, you insisted you were fine and walked past Miss Grimshaw, approaching Charles who still seemed to be grappling with his anger and keeping it in check. In unison, the two of you looked at eachother and asked, “Are you okay?”

The two of you stared at each other, and you felt a small laugh bubble up in you at the coincidence, Though your amusement was replaced by horror when you looked down at Charles’ left fist, which was swollen and bruised. 

“Oh my god!” You cried, moving to cradle his hand but promptly retracting your own when you heard him hiss. “Your hand! It’s broken!” You looked back up at him in concern, feeling the heavy weight of guilt settle within you like a boulder thrown into a lake before sinking to the waterbed. He shook his head, wincing as the pain became more prominent as his adrenaline wore off. 

“Don’t worry about me. Are you okay? Micah hit you pretty hard… I…” Charles pursed his lips at the very mention of his name, having to suck in a deep breath before he looked back at you. You shook your head, grabbing Charles’ arm and leading him to your tent. 

“I’m fine! But we need to tend to your hand asap.” You sat him on a crate just outside your tent, briefly venturing inside before remerging with some bandages you had sourced from your satchel. You sat before him on your knees, taking his massive hand into your own. You felt your heart swell in tenderness for him, wanting to throw yourself on him as an embrace to thank him for the valiant act. 

“You didn’t have to do that…” You began carefully coiling the bandages around his knuckles, looking back up at his face occasionally to spot any signs of pain you might be causing. 

“He had it coming anyways. It was bound to happen. But I’m sorry it had to happen this way.” He motioned to your cheek once again, which was still a flush red. You were sure it would bruise, but you tried not to think about it. As you tightened the bandages around his fist, he hissed, his body jerking slightly. 

“I’m sorry…” You stilled your ministrations, looking up at him with a pout. 

“No it’s okay… Thank you. This means a lot. And it was worth it to defend you from the scum bag Micah.” He smiled warmly at you in a way that made you giddy.

“Well.. thank you for that. It was actually quite satisfying to see.” You admitted with a sly smile, breaking into laughter. 

“Anytime, I mean it. Anytime.” 

You finished wrapping his knuckle up, planting a gentle kiss on it to finish your care off; a bold act that left you internally panicking. But he found it rather cute, and continued to hold your hand as he moved to stand.

The final act of your boldness would be you leaning forward and landing a kiss on Charles’ lips, leaving him standing there in bewilderment and pleasant surprise. 

“Thank you, again.” You cooed, your face burning up and blending in with the shade of your already red cheek. In the morning, your cheek would ache with the memory of the pain inflicted on you, but your heart would swell in remembrance of your salvation.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Million Dollar Man - Lana Del Rey

#red dead redemption 2 #red dead fandom #red dead redemption community #red dead redemption 2 x reader #van der linde gang x reader #writing #red dead fanfiction #charles smith #charles smith x reader fluff #charles smith x reader #Charles smith fluff #micah being an ass #micah bell

[bp-zb1fics]

hi! I love your stories! <3 do you think you could do a suggestive taerae fic?

Thinking about

pairing: taerae x reader

pronouns: none used

genre: fluff, suggestive themes

tw/tags: not much plot or dialogue sorry, music metaphors, introspection, very sentimental, kisses, making out, non-explicit descriptions, taerae slight demisexual implications (this in no way reflects on the real person, fiction is fiction)

wc: 871

summary: in this game called love, taerae trusts you with his heart

a/n last req done before i focus on checklist reqs! thanks so much anon, i really hope you like it! i got a little poetic with this one and played around with italics so its very soft hours but not much happens, idk if that works or not so feel free to lmk!

Check my pinned for more fics~

“What are you thinking about, Taerae-ah?”

You’re sitting on the couch, his guitar on his lap, your hands in his as he traced over dip, curve and line. Pressing your palms together, skin against skin, stretching his fingers out to see if his hand is larger than yours.

“Hmmm, how your hands look next to mine.”

Being with you is never boring, in Taerae’s opinion. Because even when it seems boring to other people, there’s always something new and interesting for you or him or for both of you. He can spend afternoons with you and his guitar, strumming and singing for you until you join him. And maybe you’re not the best singer but he’ll still listen to your voice like it’s a dream he doesn’t want to wake from. (Sometimes love isn’t just blind but deaf too)

And the best part wasn’t you getting the harmony right or him hitting those impressive vocal riffs, no, it was the silly little songs you made up together, nonsensical lyrics and ridiculous ad libs that you end up laughing over. Because that’s what Taerae thinks about sometimes, when he’s about to go to bed, when he’s too tired to think of anything else. He’ll think about the way you laugh, the sheer joy of that tiny moment. There are some moments that he wished he could save in a time loop and live in.

“I love your songs.”

You tell him the day he gathered enough courage to play you something from the little notebook he keeps, lyrics and chords in his handwriting. He treasures that memory just like he treasures those days when you have enough time to sit down and talk for hours. Long conversations that stretch time so thin that it feels just like seconds ticking away.

“Play something for me, please?”

Play with my heart, Taerae thinks, because I’ve given it to you to take joy in, to keep you company on lonely days, to make you smile and laugh and remember only the innocence of life. I’ve given you my hand to hold in the playground that we call love and I trust you not to let go, not to abandon me, just as I make a promise to never leave you, to play the game of hearts until ours stop beating.

You two have a million playlists together. Each of them are a carefully curated, specifically arranged set of songs that Taerae and you create for every occasion. Birthdays, anniversaries, long drives, short drives, walks by the river, all saved to preserve the moments you spend loving each other.

There are also playlists for moments like this. Soft, sultry, dreamlike beats in the background as he lifts his guitar off his lap, places it carefully to the side and pulls you closer. His hands leave yours only to glide up your neck and cup your cheeks. 

Gentle kisses. His lips fit over yours like a missing puzzle piece. Pulling away only for a force stronger than gravity pulling them back in. Your hands holding the back of his neck. It’s a haze as he presses your back into the couch, his legs bracketing yours in between them. He only pulls away once your lips are swollen, when the need for oxygen overpowers his need to kiss you until you both feel like you're floating. Your eyes meet his and you laugh breathlessly as he smiles at you, so, so enamoured.

If he could write a song about you, it would be about love.

You tug him back down, one hand sliding into his hair, fingers in between strands. He shivers, bending down to press his lips below your ear, mapping out a path down your neck as you get a little more restless. Taerae is almost too warm and so are you. He stops at the base between you neck and shoulder, the press of his mouth a little firmer, teeth scraping over skin, tongue following as if to soothe. Your fingers are laced in his hair, your back arching just a little at the sensation. Then he pulls back, pressing kisses along your collarbones. Your hips jump just a little, brushing against him and he exhales slowly.

Taerae wasn’t really interested in girls. Or boys. Just you.

He’s interested in the way you shakily undo another button of his shirt between kisses, the way you tremble a little when his hands slide under the hem of yours, skin against skin, fingers stroking the sides of your waist. Nothing becomes more interesting than the sounds he can pull from you, the kind of music that sends jolts of heat down his spine. His favourite song is the way you call his name, sweet and wholly addictive.

In the afterglow, he can only look at you. He can only watch the way you watch him, with so much unbridled affection that his heart is bursting, spilling out the seams to show you how he feels about you. To keep showing you everyday until your heart decides to give out. And he hopes that when that day comes, that the way he chose to love you was enough. Because you were more than enough for him.

__________________________________________

“What are you thinking about, Taerae-ah?”

“I don’t know…” 

“...You mostly.”

#boys planet #boys planet 999 #boys planet fics #boys planet mnet #boys planet drabbles #boys planet x reader #zb1 scenarios #zb1 fics #zb1 #zb1 x reader #zb1 imagines #zerobaseone #kpop fics #kpop scenarios #kpop fanfic #kpop imagines #kpop fluff #kim taerae #boys planet taerae #zb1 taerae #plot what plot #kim taerae x reader #kim taerae drabble #kim taerae fic #fic request #gender neutral reader #bp zb1fics

[tmntxthings]

Okay i have been sobbing over this song, since the morning. (My hopeless romantic heart—)

I just cant help but see one of the turtle bro x reader with this song- playing out in my brain

And now i just need- to see it, read it?? So here I am- idk if this is a weird request but like.. please mate im just 😭☝️ You can pick the turtle btw (my brain cant pick, but it keep going back to leo- but honestly I dont even know anymore)

Every Inch

author’s note: gosh anon this song is such a catch <3 thank you for sharing and this isn’t a weird request at all I can tell exactly what you want me too write hehe, tho I have to say I felt some mikey vibes here, but I shall write leo for you <33333 I hope you enjoyyyyyy~~~

warnings: fluff, abundance of fluff, comfort, music inspired, unedited

—————————————————————————

Leo watched as his portal closed with a flash of blue. He couldn’t help himself, even though he wanted to appear cool, to jump backwards and do a little flip for you, he couldn’t do any of that. He watched as you waved, offering a beautiful smile as an unspoken goodbye. Such a smile he couldn’t bear to look away from as he walked backwards, a dopey grin on his face as the portal finally closed.

He hadn’t been able to portal straight back to the lair. No he was up on the rooftops of New York City. Running, jumping, flipping, he couldn’t help but whoop out in his excitement. There was no denying it, he was in love you. He had been waiting for this moment. Whenever he was with you nowadays his heart would beat far too quickly. He wanted to spend every waking moment with you. But he settled for whenever you could spare the time, you did have a human life after all.

You were his day. Though he didn’t get to see the real thing often, you brought the sun with you. Your eyes always seemed to warm when he would appear though maybe that was just wishful thinking. He couldn’t help his optimism. He could lose himself within your eyes. They were his favorite color, a beautiful shining blue, they seemed to sparkle when they met his eyes.

When you first laughed at one of his jokes he might’ve knew then, that he could fall for you. That laugh, it had been a melody. So musical to his ears and he wanted to make you laugh again. He’d do anything to hear it again and every time he accomplished the goal he’d light up like he just received the greatest gift. It didn’t take long for his heart to start beating just for you. His thin grasp on keeping things purely platonic had finally slipped tonight.

“I wanna take you somewhere!” Leo had portaled in on you out of the blue. “W-what?!” You sputtered as you looked up from where you had been working on a project for school. “Let me take you somewhere! An awesome place, you’ll love it!” He promised, already waving a sword around for another portal. “Where exactly??” You laughed incredulously as you placed your pencil down. Leo’s enthusiasm was contagious so it was easy to agree even if you were a little nervous.

“You worry too much! Just c’mon it’ll be fun!!” His hand waved towards the blue portal that was now fully formed. You came closer and as you came to stand next to him, too hesitant to jump through first, he quickly grabbed your hand, pulling you into the portal after him. He laughed at your exclaims, the free-falling whipping his blue bandanna ends and your hair.

He pulled you close to his chest as he made the landing on the other side of the portal. He knew you had school stuff to do so he wouldn’t take up too much of your time. But as soon as he had found this spot he just had to show you. The sun had set, the last remaining rays fading out in a dark orange and purple-ish hue. He let go of you as you stepped out of his embrace, “wow,” you breathed out in amazement. The view from rooftops would never cease to take your breath away.

Leo being Leo knew this and would show you the best views in New York City. The lights from the buildings, the cars, they all looked like little twinkling stars at this height. “It’s beautiful!” You continued after taking in the moment. You glanced back at the blue turtle to see him smiling brightly at you. Your breath caught once more as the full moon shined down on him. You couldn’t help but stare and his smirk was inescapable, “the view’s that way..” he held back at the last second. He had almost added on ‘sweetheart.’ “I— what? Right! Of course! Ah—“ you quickly turned back around, his expression breaking into a wider smirk at your reaction.

He loved making you flustered. It made him feel that more cool. That more confident. Like his attraction to you was maybe-hopefully mutual. He blew out a breath and came to stand behind you, closer than before. He didn’t know how to tell you, that he felt like he was tiptoeing down a thinning line. He didn’t just like you anymore, it went deeper than that. He didn’t consider you just a friend. You were bringing feelings inside of himself that he had never felt before.

He’d been waiting for someone like you. To feel something like this with another person. “Y/n” Leo spoke up, you stiffened slightly. Probably not expecting his voice to be right behind you. You turned to face him, the moon shining in your eyes. “I’m-n-ve-u-“ he said quickly a dark color rushing forward on his cheeks. You gave him a quizzical look, not understanding. “I’minlovewithyou!” It was said so fast that you were still trying to comprehend.

He grabbed the sides of your arms, steadying himself as he took in a deep breath, cornering his resolve. “I-I’m in love with you,” Leo confessed making sure his eyes locked onto yours no matter how nervous he felt. No matter how much he feared to see your eyes turn into those of disgust or rejection. Your eyes widened, a full blush heating your cheeks as you stood there absorbing his words. The silence was killing him but he waited, he would wait for you, “Leo,” and his eyes were searching yours, searching for any indication that this was one-sided. He didn’t think so. Not when your hands were coming up to his arms.

His mouth shot forward, capturing yours in a dance. He practically churred as you reciprocated, every time he drew back for a breath you would say quick “i love you’s” his heart wouldn’t stop beating so furiously. It didn’t stop even after the kissing stopped. Not after both of your breathing finally steadied. Not when he portaled you back home, promising to text you once he was at the lair. Not as you waved him goodbye and gave him that sweet smile. His heart was still beating just as fast as he jumped from rooftop to rooftop, choosing to take the long way home.

He was in love! He was in love with you. And you loved him back! You had told him so, over and over again after shared kisses. He couldn’t believe his luck. He was so happy!! He couldn’t wait to kiss you again. He wanted to kiss every inch of your lips, of your face. Leo was in love with you, every inch of you.

—————————————————————————

#rise leo x reader #rise leonardo #leonardo x reader #leonardo hamato #leo x reader #leo x y/n #rise tmnt oneshot #rottmnt oneshot #rottmnt fluff #tmnt fluff #tmnt fandom #tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #teenage mutant ninja turtles #leonardo #tmnt 2018 #romance #rottmnt fandom #fan fic #music

[tokyaland]

Do you have any sakuma head Canon???

And btw you're art is fantastic!!!!!

I do but they’re mostly about his home life since we don’t know anything about that in canon. I like to imagine that he’s raised by a hardworking single father who gets home very late because he has to support sakuma and his big sister. The mom’s probably dead because that’s the anime standard lmao

I think that despite his bad boy days being behind him since Kageyama was first arrested during teikoku’s second match with Raimon, he still isn’t all sweet and flowers. I think he enjoys play fighting with his friends and teammates but like he can probably easily beat up someone

and ig that’s not really a headcanon because it just makes logical sense but, sakuma is actually greater at soccer than people think because he’s literally playing with little to no depth perception since he wears his eyepatch all the time. Imagine if he took it off during a match, that shit would be crazy ngl (not counting shin teikoku cause he was on meteor crack)

Oh and he’s a cat person

It kind of saddens me that the characters in ina11 and go act so serious all the time. I wish we got to see the more childish/playful side of them or a bit more joyful personality outside of the football fields. We only get this with the youngest who are the ones like Jack Todd Scotty etc (sorry idk their Japanese names)

So yah sister design for fun, and thank you anon I’m so glad you like my art ♡♡

#inazuma eleven #sakuma jirou #ina11

[chipchopclipclop]

love ur baldurs gate 3 oc so much. idk anything about the game but i genuinely likes him. i wish hes a real character bc i would buy the game for him

thank you anon i know this message is weeks old but ily and also im going to use this ask as an excuse to dump information about him now (swagdor lore (swaglore)) for anyone who cares

general stuff;

hes 49 years old as of game time

necromancy wizard, learned scholar, heavy interest in the boundaries between life and death and undeath, researching different types of resurrection unrelated to god worship (just not a big fan of asking for favours yknow)

stoic even keeled personality, reacts neutrally or stone faced to most things (this does not mean hes uncaring, hes got a curious nature). he used to be very showy and loud when he was younger, he finds that now very embarrassing

used to be a leader of an adventuring band in his 20s, fell apart when his group were defeated in battle leaving him lone survivor, wasnt a necromancer back then

has a distinct lack of self regard, half of him believes he'll be more of use untethered to the chain of mortality (undead in some fashion, or just thinking his corpse more functionally useful) the other half is just still struggling with survivors guilt (lol)

wanders around looking for old crypts and tombs to help his arcane pursuits, do-good's alot accidentally while he does, though most people get scared of him when he reveals the necromancy magic so hes got a mixed reputation (has some sort of misnomer like The Specter of so-and-so that wyll probably recognizes and laughs about)

will go along with just about anything if it amuses him, and has a weird sense of humour. hard to catch off guard or fluster, he yes-and's people alot to see how far they'll go with something or out bluff them (sometimes this causes them to try and beat the shit out of him)

truthful about his feelings when asked, but rarely volunteers his thoughts on things of his own accord, this gives him a weirdly mysterious image at first to most people

treats his raised corpses with care befitting living beings outside combat, and used to even raise some for company even if they were functionally just puppets.

he likes skeletons more than zombies (smell…)

his fake in game quest line is called 'The Wandering Necromancer' and involves inquiring about his old adventuring days of times past and learning why he's so into skeletons. He eventually reveals his past and you can bring up his groups old misadventures (oh my god you were the backstreet boys???) and he is very embarrassed by it. He reveals his group was felled by a lich, and he never found their bodies so hes always been curious on a way to speak with them again somehow.

plot continues BLAH BLAH eventually you find out that lich is still around and swagdor's old friends are now in its undead service so you go to kill it <3 but on the way he considers if he should take the lich's place so he can have his old companions around again (even if they're in his undead service) and try to give them some semblance of new twisted life again. You either help him with the preparations (yay phylacterys) or go bro you need to Move On. Man. and instead choose to release their souls when the lich is killed.

swagdor is stronger as a lich but also becomes even more detached from concepts of mortality (his sense of danger is basically nill now regarding others... its okay if u die ill bring u back somehow :) <- unnerving smile) and also all his dead friends are talking to him in his ear so he's constantly got a sense of being away from everything.

unliched swagdor moves on properly and begins The Healing Process (better late than never king) and seems more present in current ongoings, finding a place he can really set his feet. He's also less obsessed with death but sees his necromancy instead as a means to help and speak with wayward souls of the dead.

useless trivia corner: his names swagdor bc i based him off an old div2 oc i made when i was playing that game with aqua, where i used one of the randomly generated names they gave me and put the word swag into it (lol) i now am using his div2 swagdor's adventures as a semi basis for his new bg3 versions background thats why his younger versions outfit is based off that one captain armour set i never took off in that game

#chitter chatter #anonymous #swagdor <3

[ssuperficialspacecadett]

i headcannon that benny and reader blast rihanna while closing the gym. it becomes a tradition that they blast music and dance around while closing. it gets to the point that the boys start wondering why benny keeps being late to their hangouts after his work. at some point they catch benny blowing his back out and reader recording and laughing at benny

Benny, Better Have My Money

Chapter Five | Drabble for the Through the Scope series | Chapter Six

*best read in between chapter 5 & 6*

Rating: IDK ?? everyone ??

Word Count: 1029

TW: tooth rotting friend fluff w/ Benny & some ass throwing ?!?!

Notes: anon, i wish i could kiss that beautiful brain of yours for thinking of this absolutely fucking hilarious scene thats now 100% canon in the through the scope series to me HAHAHA !! i hope i did some justice to your brilliant idea & thank u so so much for submitting it ((: this one is for u ! happy reading <3

*i wrote this w/o looking over it because the idea was just to good so if you see any grammatical errors.. no you dont*

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Closing up after a long shift was never fun. Well, it was never fun until you started working for Benny. After the last guests were ushered out and the doors were locked, you were put in charge of the gyms music. It was only fair since Benny had free reign during operating hours after all. Plus, your taste in music wasn’t exactly family friendly. 

“Alright, what are we feeling this evening? Lady Gaga? Megan Thee Stallion? Doja Cat? Maybe some Rico Nasty? What artist really says ‘I want to clean this whole gym and look hot while doing it’ to you?” 

“The evening song choices are all yours. I’m way too tired to even think about makin’ another decision right now.”

“Well,” You say as you start scrolling through artists on his phone to find one that will bring the energy that both of you need to get this done. “If you’re so tired, why are you going out with the guys after this?” 

“You know that doesn’t count.” He’s currently working his way through cloroxing all the workout benches and weights. “The only decision I have to make when I’m there is if I want another drink or not and that's easy. Of course I want another fuckin’ drink!” 

“Touché,” You laugh as you find the perfect playlist for the evening. “Let’s get this cleaning party started!” 

Rhianna’s Bitch Better Have My Money starts blasting at full volume from the gym's speakers as you make your way over to the basket full of used towels. 

Bitch, better have my money

Y’all should know me well enough

Bitch, better have my money

Please don’t call me on my bluff

Pay me what you owe me

“Oh fuck yeah! I love Rhianna!” He yells as he turns to you. 

You pull out a towel, point to him from across the gym, and start swinging it over your head as you lip sync to the song playing. 

Kamikaze if you think that you gon’ knock me of the top

Shit, your wife in the back seat of my brand new foreign car

Don’t act like you forgot

I call the shot, shot, shots.

Benny makes finger guns and pretends to fire them at you on each beat. “Sing it, girl!”

The two of you run dramatically to each other in the middle of the gym and start dancing like crazed animals. Each of your tasks having been long forgotten as soon as the music started. You both know by now that neither one of you will be leaving anytime soon.

***

“Where the fuck is your brother, Will?” Pope huffs.

Frankie, Pope, and Will have all been waiting at their table for Benny to show up for 45 minutes now. They turned the waitress away three times before they caved and ordered a round for themselves. Hoping that a light buzz would satiate them.

“I’ve been texting him, but he’s not answerin’!” Will explains. “His location says that he’s still at the gym.” He turns his phone screen over to show the others.

“This is the third time this week that he’s been late. He’s never taken this long to close up before.” Frankie adds. 

Pope tips his almost empty beer bottle in his direction and nods. “Fuck this. Finish y’alls drinks and let's go pay him a visit.”

They all do as Pope orders and make their way out of the bar. As they cross the street and enter the gym’s parking lot they see both yours and Benny’s cars in the same spots that they were in this morning. All of the lights in the building are still on as well. 

“Do y’all hear that?” Frankie asks the men walking next to him. “It sounds like -”

“Rhianna?” Pope says curiously. 

All three of them walk up to the gym doors and the sight that greets them will be burned into each and every one of their minds for all eternity. 

***

You’re currently holding onto one of the corner poles from the boxing ring with both hands and trying to explain to Benny how to shake his ass.

“Move your hips to the right, then the left, then shimmy down, and use your knees to help you bring your ass up and down!” You’re winded from both teaching your lesson and singing with Benny for almost an hour straight. It also doesn’t help that you’re trying to yell instructions over Rhianna’s S&M song.

“I think I got it now! Let me try!” 

He helps you down so he can climb up and get into position. You pick up your towel and phone off a nearby workout bench. There is no way that you aren’t going to document this moment.

‘Cause I may be bad, but I’m perfectly good at it

Sex in the air, I don’t care, I love the smell of it

Stick and stone may break my bones

“But chains and whips excite me!” You and Benny sing together.

You are struggling to hold your phone still as you record because you can’t stop laughing. Benny is throwing everything, and you mean everything, into his one man performance on the edge of the boxing ring. He definitely paid attention to what you showed him. Even put his own little twist on it by bringing his right hand back to slap his ass. You can’t help but get swept away in it all and you start hitting him in the ass with your towel as well.

“Let’s go, Benny! Shake that shit for me!” Your lungs threaten to burst from over exhaustion. 

S-S-S&M-M-M

S-S-S&M-M-M

Oh, I love the feeling you bring to me

Oh, you turn me on

***

“Should we tell them we are here?” Will ask hesitantly, still not entirely sure what he’s watching.

“I’m not even sure what we would say if we told them.” Frankie quips as he wishes you would get back up and dance again. “Pope?”

He looks to his left and sees him pulling up your contact information. “Let’s tell them that their audience wants an encore.” Pope presses ‘call’ and puts the phone to his ear with a devious grin.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

{tag list: @cutesyscreenname @rsquared31 @smol-beb @bitchwitch1981 @avastrasposts @hoeslingz @saltybutteredtoast @javicstories @c-justhere @pimosworld @modernperplexity @beboldbebravethings @modernperplexity  @mxtokko  @moonliqhtszn @tanzthompson @megcads @myloveistoolittle @casa-boiardi @jitterbugs927 @partyofone3413 @pedrit0-pascalit0 }

#francisco morales #frankie morales #catfish #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier #triple frontier fic #benny miller #william miller #ironhead #santiago garcia #pope #through the scope #through the scope drabble #through the scope headcanon #benny x reader as friends #benny the bestie

[auncyen]

Same anon with the mira and bonnie ask, lobed your response but felt weird to just put it in w/o a question so if you don’t mind:

what do you think siffrin’s life was like before joining the party? Could be pre- or post- forgotten island. Idk to me its fascinating bc they were loved in some measure (cloak, jokingly running away bc of veggies) and are p in touch with their culture when they remember it, but at the same time siffrin’s mindset is pretty unhealthy. Like even before looping/during act 2 loops, they seemed unconcerned about serious bodily harm and death that would happen to them + just seems to have. A very strange relationship with people feeling sad instead of happy around them? Idk i just don’t think that’s from just the memory loss.

See I think kid Siffrin was pretty happy. As Isabeau notes whoever gave them the cloak and hat must have really loved them. When Siffrin recounts running away it's in a carefree way--he knew he could give his parents a scare and it'd go down as "just a prank". Basically their home life was really good. There are questions I have about the island's beliefs / values that might be troublesome, but I don't really think that sort of thing grates on a kid with a happy home life too much. (And also as a little note the only glimpse we get into the island's beliefs/values are through Siffrin and King, two individuals who cannot recall those things completely and are very traumatized, so like. Should probably take a grain of salt on how they portray the beliefs anyway.)

Post-island I admittedly read a LOT into how Siffrin finds Vaugarde's openness weird and had kept their hair dyed up until a few months pre-game.

In his experience, other countries are not as welcoming. So I imagine their teenage years were probably pretty lonely. This isn't to say other countries were completely awful--he obviously enjoyed Poteria's plays!--but they were juuust old enough where few would assume just by looking at them "uh, you're on your own, do you need help?" If they stayed long enough in a spot for people to figure out something was wrong it'd invite questions like "where are you from", "where are your parents", basically questions that'd make Siffrin's head hurt and probably lead to them cutting off the interaction if the other person doesn't walk away first because they're put off or alarmed by Siffrin's reactions. Basically, there probably WERE well-meaning attempts to help Siffrin. They backfired because people didn't know what was wrong with Siffrin (Siffrin didn't know what was wrong with Siffrin). Siffrin probably beat himself up for it when he knew the other person was trying to help and he was just too "broken". As a teenager he probably stayed longest in places where adults assumed he was a runaway that didn't want to talk about it and maybe helped him out in a more "hands-off" way--"hey, run this errand for me and I'll give you dinner and a roof for the night". Which, great! Because Siffrin finds a way to get by. But it doesn't deal with any of the emotional issues festering inside.

I also feel like, while this may be a bit dark for the fantasy setting, Siffrin probably got targeted at times for being a young traveler on their own. I mean I also headcanon that Siffrin was very good at escaping dicey situations, partially because they'd start Wish Crafting unconsciously if they were really scared, so they were never seriously harmed. But they weren't good experiences to have!

I also kind of headcanon that pre-canon with not knowing who they are like--they loved plays. But also, like. I can see them at times hurting when they think about plays, how they'd be portrayed in a play. No true name, no past, no home, no relations. At best they're the jester who mocks a King gone wrong and makes the audience laugh. At worst they're a side character killed off-stage in a tragedy, barely important enough to devote two lines to. What kind of play would have a protagonist with zero emotional stake in anything?

They try to be the jester, at least. Sometimes, when he's feeling brave enough. It tends to fizzle pretty quickly. (And then he meets someone who doubles over laughing at a bad pun.)

So yeah I feel like Siffrin pretty much mastered the art of getting by and also as in this post actually being pretty good at fighting pre-canon, but socially well. They can ask directions in at least half a dozen languages but can't be honest about how they're feeling or what's going on with them in a single blinding one. Then they meet a group that's in desperate need of another fighter and 2 of them are Vaugardians who are willing to accept Siffrin's eccentricities as just part of them and not ask questions and Odile's pragmatic enough to not rock the boat unnecessarily. I pretty much do view the group as being the first chance Siffrin remembers getting to bond with people without it going south by them wanting to know their background. Of course he loves them. Of course it doesn't really matter what happens to him, who's going to miss him?? They have homes and families and friends. They're the real heroes. He's just supporting cast.

...So yeah tl;dr pre-island vanishing I think Siffrin's life was just fine. post-island was an incredible amount of loneliness and the Universe putting his brain in a blender and idly hitting the pulse button every so often. This is not even getting into experiencing the physical side of puberty while not knowing who you are or who to ask for help, which, yikes.

#siffrin #in stars and time #in stars and time spoilers

[jeonqkooks]

Hey 🧡

Can I request number 15 (angst) - "I see the way you look at them" with Jimin?

hopelessly devoted | pjm

pairing: jimin x f!reader, side namjoon x f!reader

rating: PG

genre/warnings: angst, unrequited love au, jimin is a sad boi :(, idk i think that's it lol there's not much other than $4D

word count: 1.3k

note: i hope you're still around anon and i hope you like this <3 !! also massive thank you's to @daechwitatamic and @jeonwiixard for beta-ing me and not letting me think it was a flaming pile of garbage lol! i love uuuuuu 💕

— as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

“You’re a saint.”

Jimin turns to the left to meet the eyes of a man whose name he still hasn’t bothered learning. They’ve met a few times at birthday parties and other group dinners, but not once has Jimin officially spoken to him. He just knows him as one of Namjoon’s friends.

“What was that?” Jimin asks in a low voice, as to not disturb the scene that’s about to unfold in the adjacent room – the room that he, a dozen of his friends and strangers spent the whole day decorating with heart-shaped balloons and rose petals. The door is cracked open just a few inches so he could hear everything that’s going on and know when to burst in when the time is right. 

He sees you with your back turned to him. How fitting; him, always standing behind you, forced to watch you keep your eyes on another man.

“You’re a saint,” the man repeats simply, eyes full of pity, and Jimin realizes then that this stranger knows a secret of his that even you aren’t privy to. “I see the way you look at her.”

Jimin calmly blinks, even though he’s just been caught, bleeding heart and all. A single sentence, cutting him open a few feet away from where love is in full bloom.

He should be scrambling to deny any and all accusations, scoff and pretend that he has no idea what the stranger is insinuating.

Instead, he reminds himself to breathe. He doesn’t have anything to hide, at least not anymore. He’s only a guy, hopelessly in love with a girl who is hopelessly in love with someone else. The excitement radiating off everyone except for him is palpable. Your girlfriends can barely stay quiet and keep from ruining the moment for you and Namjoon. They bounce on their feet in anticipation, unaware that right next to them, Jimin is still wishing on a comet he saw a lifetime ago, that you would turn around. That you would leave everything just to go to him, to finally see him.

“That obvious, huh?” Jimin asks, teasingly self-deprecating even in the face of heartbreak. 

What he gets in return is a shrug. “I don’t understand how you can be so selfless,” the man says. “I could never watch the girl I have feelings for be happy with someone else.”

Jimin hums sagely. It isn’t even the truth. He doesn’t want to be selfless, he wants to be selfish. He wants to storm into the room and shake you by the shoulders until you understand that his affection for you extends far beyond the confines of friendship. 

He would do anything you ask him to. By extension, he supposes what Namjoon wants falls under this category too. If there’s anything that anyone should know about Jimin, it’s that he would go to the ends of the earth to make sure you’re happy, even if it means putting on a smile and telling Namjoon yes when the other man came to him for help on proposing to you.

Love shouldn’t hurt like this, but it does.

Jimin watches the scene unfold through the crack of the door. He hears the deafening beats of his heart in his ears while everybody waits for the crescendo.

Namjoon gets on one knee, and your friends can all see the exact moment your world stops.

Time halts, and Jimin reminisces.

Four hundred and seventy five days.

That’s how long he’s been thinking about the improbability of you and him, and about how things could’ve gone so differently had he been braver just a little sooner.

Four hundred and seventy five nights Jimin has spent, lying in his bed alone and staring at the ceiling. Restless and aching to the bone. Because four hundred and seventy five days ago, he finally managed to gather the courage to tell you how he felt about you after weeks of nerve wracking contemplation and years of unspoken, untested love. He’d rehearsed countless times what he was going to tell you. There had even been a speech planned, for when you rejected him and told him that the pair of you would be better off as friends.

It took him everything just to stand in front of your door that night, with his love so tangible he could hold it in his hands, clumsily prepared to ask you to keep it.

When you opened the door and flashed him that ever glowing sunshine smile of yours, his heart almost gave out. Five minutes later, it did, but for a reason he hadn’t seen coming. With that beautiful grin still plastered on your face, you uttered the words that completely knocked him off his axis.

“Namjoon asked me out today.”

Kim Namjoon, the man you had been crushing on ever since you laid eyes on him two months prior. He was part of the reason why Jimin decided to grow a pair and confess to you, but as it seems, the universe had other intentions.

He was one step behind.

Always just a step behind.

With every milestone that you reached with Namjoon, the part of him that always held out hope that it’d be you and him in the end gradually chipped away. Your anniversaries, the first time you met each other’s parents, and eventually, when you agreed to move in with Namjoon… Every time he listened to you talk about your boyfriend with a twinkle in your eyes, Jimin could only nod along and smile, muttering words of encouragement to you because he was a good friend.

He was a good friend and he was happy that you were happy.

Despite how much he wished it had been him in Namjoon’s place instead.

Despite how much he thought it should’ve been him.

Jimin understands it better than most people: Love is pain.

The irony isn’t lost on him, how the same word means such different things for the both of you.

You say yes, because of course you do. You’re the princess and Namjoon is Prince Charming, destined to come in and sweep you off your feet. This is your fairytale ending and Jimin is standing right here, merely a bystander to your happiness.

As Namjoon slips the diamond ring onto your delicate finger, Jimin has to grasp the fact that no matter how hard he tries, he will never be the main character in the story of your life. Your tears spill over and he watches Namjoon wipe them away. He commits to memory the complete and utter joy you wear when your now fiance gathers you in his arms and gently spins you around, the content smiles on both your faces blurry from a distance.

Or perhaps it’s Jimin’s own vision clouding from the sting he feels piercing through his chest.

His heartbeat is so loud that he can’t even hear Namjoon usher everybody in. He doesn’t really register his surroundings until your friends all rush to your side with delighted squeals of congratulations.

Jimin has never seen you look this happy before. Surrounded by the love of your life and all your closest friends, you radiate a glow that he has only ever witnessed in his dreams. Nobody seems to notice that he’s still standing there, rooted to the ground, while people celebrate what must be one of the most memorable moments of your life.

It’s not until your gaze dances across the room and lands on him in the dark that Jimin remembers how to fake a smile again. He immediately perks up for your sake, though he’s sure that you aren’t even conscious of the brave face he’s putting on.

He walks over to you then, wearing a bright grin and dragging a sunken heart that no one else can see. The hug you share is one he wishes could last for an eternity, before you leave him for someone else forever. The stranger’s eyes burn the side of his face.

Tonight is just another sleepless night.

— all rights reserved © jeonqkooks. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 27.02.23]

#jimin x reader #jimin x you #jimin fluff #jimin smut #jimin angst #jimin fanfic #jimin imagines #bts x reader #bts x you #bts fluff #bts smut #bts angst #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bangtanbathhouse #btscarnivalnet #btshoneyhive #clubzerooclock #52hertz #fic: hopelessly devoted