#if the mood strikes me (it most certainly will)

[biggiedraws]

gonna have the best new years ever this year (staying in playing video games) (no one else is home) (the end of 2023 will pass by completely unnoticed)

#im not being sarcastic this is genuinely the best possible way to spend new years. im having a blast #no pressure to participate in social activities...... no drunk people..... just comfy clothes and a quiet house. bliss #well. when i say quiet house what i really mean is no one else making noise. and it ALSO means no one else to be quiet for #so it will most likely be a very loud house because no one will be here to stop me from belting along to famous last words at max volume #if the mood strikes me (it most certainly will)

[tomriddleslove]

The Black Lake, a shared blunt, and realisations.

✩Mattheo Riddle x Reader

Summary: The one where Mattheo has had enough. Everyone and everything seems to be agitating him, and he feels as though he can’t catch a break. Then you come along. Alternatively: You may just be his saving grace, hidden in plain sight.

Slight? Angst but mainly fluff

A/N: I get all my fic ideas when listening to music so bear with me when I say there’s a very certain vibe to this and you have to know the song to understand it.

Songs: Tek it - Cafuné

The clock strikes noon, and Mattheo couldn’t be more than relieved to finally leave the stuffy clasroom. Tossing his bag over his shoulder, he swiftly makes his way out of the classroom, ignoring the agitated glares of the other students he had so rudely shoved past.

Now Mattheo wishes he could say he wasn’t this rude that often. He didn’t really go out of his way to fight people per se, but it just so happened to be that he was quite confrontational and rather good at resolving things with his fists. However these past few days he had been more on edge than usual, snapping at almost everyone for reasons that were far beyond him.

Everything seemed to agitate him immensely, from the way lessons seemed to drag on, to his deskmates who all seemed to have a penchant for being the most agitating, infuriating people possible.

I mean, seriously? What could compel a person to chomp down on a beef sandwich in the middle of class at 10 in the morning? The professor may not have noticed but Mattheo most certainly did, having to spend the last hour with a raging headache trying to ignore the obnoxious chewing sounds and the revolting smell of beef.

He all but almost cries as he collapses down onto the sofa in the common room, grateful for the fact that everyone else seemed to have lessons currently. He closes his eyes for a millisecond, letting out a small sigh of frustration.

He feels the sofa dip beside him and that same frustration returns. He opens his eyes, ready to snap at whatever poor person had decided to sit next to him, but his gaze immediately softens when he realises it was you.

“Oh,” He murmurs, and a lazy grin tugs at your lips as you look over at him, raising a brow.

It’s remarkable just how quickly his mood seems to lighten when he sees you.

“Oh?” You repeat, amused.

“Mhmm. Just not in the mood for it recently and thought you were Belby or some other git. I was ready to hex you.” He murmurs, and you roll your eyes in mock admonishment as you reach for your book, leaning back into the sofa as you thumb through the pages.

“Charming, Riddle. Really, I feel flattered.” You say sarcastically, and the corners of Mattheo's mouth quirk upwards.

You and Mattheo were part of the same extended friend group. You weren’t the closest with him, yet you weren’t absolute strangers. You didn’t talk that much to one another, but got along surprisingly well. Mattheo was one of the only people (bar Blaise) who could match your wit and dry humour, and you were one of the few (if not only) people who didn't seem to annoy him.

You pay him no mind as you read your book, and with any other person, Mattheo would have been largely grateful for that. But for some bizarre reason, he wants you to speak to him.

He glances over at you for a second, admiring the way the gentle glow from the fireplace illuminates your face as you read.

How oblivious could one get?

You break the silence, peering down at your book as you speak.

“Do you have a double free period?”

Mattheo hums, looking over at you. He wants you to look up at him so badly, and he can’t tell why. It seemed as though he’d need a slap in the face to make him realise why he craved so much attention from you.

He shifts on the sofa, trying to appear nonchalant as he replies, "Yeah, luckily. No classes for the rest of the day. What about you?"

You glance up from your book, meeting his gaze with a faint smile. "Same here. Wanna come walk around with me?” You ask, and Mattheo nods, albeit a bit confused as to why you’d want to wander around in such cold weather aimlessly.

You reach into your robe pocket, producing a neatly rolled joint with a cheeky wag of your eyebrows. A grin spreads across Mattheo's face as he looks at you, and he raises a brow in mock disappointment.

“Am I seeing correctly, or has the academic prodigy of Hogwarts just suggested we use our valuable study time to get high?”Mattheo taunts, and you scoff, getting up.

“Piss off, Riddle. Are you coming or not?” You retort, glancing back at him.

He looks up at you, and his gaze lingers far too long on the way your eyes light up, your mouth forming a gentle curve as you smile at him and-

Oh god, Mattheo never really stood a chance, did he?

He nods, getting up as he grabs his robe and follows you. You both meander aimlessly through the empty corridors of Hogwarts, poking fun at the unfortunate students who still had lessons. As you walk past a classroom you catch a glimpse of Theodore, chin resting atop his palm as he sleepily gazes at the board. You snicker, nudging Mattheo as you both hide at the side of the doorway, peering into the class. Mattheo wraps an arm around your waist, moving you behind him and you ignore the way you reel at his touch, dazed for a second.

It doesn’t last long, however, for you're drawn out of your short-lived crisis when you spot Mattheo pulling his wand out from his pocket, discreetly pointing it in Theodore’s direction. It was rather astounding seeing how no other students in the class noticed you, but Professor Binn had a rather uncanny knack for getting people to fall into a zombie-like state of fatigue whenever they were in his class. You were convinced it had to be some sort of superpower.

With a short flick of his wand, Theodore's eyes widened as he yelped, hand shooting up to clasp over his upper arm.

As Theodore's yelp echoes through the classroom, everyone snaps out of their daze, their attention immediately drawn to the source of the disturbance. Theodore grimaces, sheepishly looking down as he tries to play it off. Unable to contain your laughter anymore, you snort, and the sound has everyone turning to look outside the classroom.

Mattheo grabs your hand, pulling you along as the two of you run down the corridor, laughter bubbling up from deep within you.

As you round a corner, out of sight from the classroom, you finally come to a stop, breathless from both the running and the laughter. Mattheo leans against the wall, trying to catch his breath as he looks at you with sparkling eyes.

It was amazing how he had gone from being so irate to so…. Carefree. He felt alive with you, like he could forget about the countless burdens that weighed down on him day in and day out.

“That was bloody brilliant,” You wheeze, clutching your ribs as you laugh. Mattheo grins, panting as he nods.

“Theodore’s hilarious. Can’t wait to hear him complain about that later on,” He muses and you snort, straightening up. You jerk your head to the side, motioning for him to join you as you slip out of the castle onto the school grounds. You leisurely walk down the fields, heading towards the Black Lake.

You stop at a large cluster of rocks near the surface of the water, plopping down on the slightly damp grass. Mattheo joins you, long legs stretched out in front of him as you fish around your pocket. His arm presses against yours and you’re immediately warmed by the heat coming off his body, trying to ignore the intoxicating aroma of his cologne filling your senses.

You hit Mattheo's thigh with your hand, nudging him to get the lighter as you place the blunt between your lips. He obliges, cupping his hand around the flame as you lean down to light the tip, taking a few drags. You pass it over to Mattheo, tilting your head back as you exhale with a sigh. Mattheo mimics your actions, letting out a low groan as he passes the blunt back to you.

“Shit, this is fucking good.” He murmurs, eyes flickering over to you as you take another drag.

You speak, blunt dangling between those perfect lips of yours that Mattheo can’t seem to tear his eyes off of.

“Should be,” You muse, handing it over to Matteho as he takes another long drag. “I sucked dick for it.” You comment offhandedly and Mattheo splutters, coughing as he smacks his fist against his chest, looking over at you in disbelief. You look at him with a lazy grin, a hint of amusement in your eyes.

“Relax, of course I didn’t. But with the price it came at I may as well have.” You murmur, shaking your head.

“So ladylike” He teases and you roll your eyes for what must be the umpteenth time, slapping his thigh as you snatch the blunt back.

You remain silent for a while, and it's oddly comforting. Just you and Mattheo, passing the blunt back and forth between one another as you overlook the black lake. The setting sun is reflected in the ripple of the water, golden rays dancing along the small waves that give the illusion of the lake being made of pure gold.

Mattheo leans back on his elbows, exhaling a cloud of smoke into the crisp air. You're reclined beside him, the gentle lapping of the water providing a soothing backdrop to your conversation.

"So, Riddle, what's been bothering you lately?" you ask casually, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between you.

Mattheo hesitates for a moment, his gaze fixed on the horizon as he considers his response. He's never been one to open up easily, but there's something about the softness in your voice that makes him want to confide in you.

"Just...everything, I guess," he admits finally, his tone uncharacteristically vulnerable. "I feel like I'm constantly on edge, and I'm not sure why.”

Your gaze remains on the lake, a pensive expression on your face as you hum.

“I get it. I suppose for all their goodwill it's a bit hard for the boys to understand that.” You murmur and Mattheo chuckles, looking down at the long strands of grass he was fiddling with.

“Tell me about it”

You remain silent for a second longer, before turning to face Mattheo. He looks up at you and feels as though he's pinned down under your gaze. It’s as though you were dissecting his very being, staring at him with a calculating look before you speak once again, your voice low and soft.

“You don’t always have to be a hardhead. You don’t need to dismiss how you’re feeling. We aren’t meant to have this figured out yet. We’re still young, with so much to learn. What’s the point of life if we know it all now?”

Mattheo listens to your words, feeling as though you've peered straight into his soul and laid bare all his insecurities. There's a wisdom in your words that resonates deeply with him. It's as though you possess a wisdom beyond your years, a rare insight that he finds both intimidating and captivating.

"Thank you," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper.

That god-forsaken smile appears on your face again, and you look over at Mattheo.

“Don’t. Someone has to tell you this, right? I love Nott to bits but I doubt he has anything but quidditch on his mind.” You joke, and Mattheo laughs.

You seamlessly lighten the mood, and Mattheo is eternally grateful for that. Really, he’s grateful for you. He can't think of the last time he's laughed so much. Or felt so free. Perhaps it was the weed, that had lowered his inhibitions and relieved him of his stresses.

But no, it was a drug far worse than that. He had just gotten a taste of it and he knew he would be hooked on it. It came in the form of you, and gods was it dangerous.

There's a heavy silence between the two of you, broken by the sound of rustling as Mattheo sits up abruptly, a grin spreading across his face.

"Hey, wanna go closer to the edge of the lake? I think I saw something cool over there," he suggests, his tone playful as he nudges you with his elbow.

"What, are you trying to pull some sort of prank on me, Riddle?" You ask, your tone sceptical as you raise an eyebrow.

Mattheo feigns innocence, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "Who, me? Never," he replies with a smirk, his eyes dancing with mischief.

Despite your reservations, you can't help but be intrigued by Mattheo's suggestion, and with a shrug, you agree to accompany him to the water's edge.

You walk a few steps to the surface of the black lake, peering down at your own reflection for a second. You turn to Mattheo, caught off guard when he gives you a playful shove.

You yelp, reaching out instinctively to grab onto Mattheo as you lose your balance. Instead of regaining your footing, you find yourself slipping on the dampened grass near the edge of the lake and falling backwards into the water with Mattheo.

The icy cold water seems to seep into your body, eradicating any hint of warmth. You resurface with a gasp, brushing your wet hair away from your face as you tread water, your robe floating around you in the water.

Mattheo resurfaces moments after you, his curly brown hair now plastered against his forehead, droplets of water glistening in the fading light. He blinks the water from his eyes and looks at you with a playful grin.

“Why did you do that!” He gasps, though his tone is lighthearted and playful.

You roll your eyes, splashing him in retaliation. “You practically threw me in there! I just needed to find my footing!” You retort, indignified.

Mattheo chuckles, the sound echoing across the stillness of the lake. “Fair point.” He concedes.

Not a second later, however, he splashes you with water, somehow drenching you even further.

“Mattheo!” You gasp, sending a wave of water back at him. The two of you playfully fight in the water, and you laugh, head tilted back. It's a scene straight out of a childhood fantasy, the cares and worries of the world melting away beneath the warm glow of the setting sun.

Mattheo pauses, and his heart pounds against his sternum as he hears your laugh. It’s loud and it's unabashed, and it's the most perfect thing ever. You smile, and he feels as though he can't breathe, you had to have stolen his breath.

The golden rays of the sun illuminate your skin, catching in the droplets of water that cling to the wet tendrils of your hair. You looked like an image out of a Renaissance painting, and Mattheo is sure the sun must hide itself in shame, for on its brightest day it couldn’t compete with your radiance.

He takes in the way the fading sunlight casts a warm glow on your features, highlighting the curve of your cheekbones and the sparkle in your eyes. He’s sure the image must be etched into his mind, permanently engraved. He knows when he closes his eyes, all he will see is the image of you, and he doesn’t mind it one bit.

In fact, he welcomes it.

In your presence, he feels alive in a way he never has before. He will wake up tomorrow and face all the trials and tribulations the universe has to throw at him. For now, however, the sun is shining. The water is cold, but you make him feel warmer. The gentle sound of water sloshing about fills the silence, the horizon is beautiful.

Everything was alright.

@mildlyuninformative @chgrch @gillyweeds @anti-hero03 @schaebickel @lillywildly @multifandom-worlds

#slytherin #slytherin boys #tom riddle #harry potter #draco malfoy #lorenzo berkshire #slytherin boys fic #theodore nott #blaise zabini #pansy parkinson #mattheo x you #mattheo riddle x reader comfort #mattheoxreader #mattheo x y/n #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle fluff

[yelena-bellova]

Heartfirst: A Ted Lasso Story - Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve: Hold You Close

Plot: A night out with the Greyhounds, a short-lived stint as head coach and a massive data leak bring on a full week for Y/n.

Word Count: 5.7k

Warnings: language, alcohol, sexual undertones (nude leak), slut-shaming

A/N: What do you get when you write a football fic with very little knowledge of football? This.

To be honest, this chapter feels more like filler and felt very awkward to write. But even if it’s a tiny step, every chapter moves the story along a little bit. Very much a Keeley and Jamie chapter, so enjoy!

——————

Winning suited Richmond.

A four-game win streak had brightened the halls of Nelson Road Stadium. The whole city was in the best mood it had been since the start of the season. Total Football, though it had taken time, was leading them to victory week after week.

After their fourth straight win, the Greyhounds proclaimed a club night. After months of declining, Y/n finally accepted their invitation to join. Going clubbing was…more than a little out of her comfort zone, but the boys weren’t going to take no for an answer. And truthfully, she wanted to celebrate their good fortune just as much as they did.

Sat in the VIP section of a London nightclub, the Greyhounds shouted to one another over the thumping bass. Colin and Y/n were sat in a corner, Colin entertaining her with a story from training the other day. When their glasses were emptied, they headed to the bar to get a refill.

“Okay, fine,” Y/n gestured to Colin’s bottle, “Gimme.”

Colin handed over his vodka, Y/n poured a bit into her empty glass and threw it back.

She grimaced, letting out a groan.

“Oh, it’s not that bad,” Colin replied.

“No, it is,” Y/n screwed her eyes shut, “It really is.”

Y/n wasn’t buzzed, but she was certainly more relaxed than usual. It felt good to be out, to be amongst people she liked, to laugh. It made all the lingering anxiety in her head fall hush.

Colin was laughing at her alcohol tolerance just as a man who didn’t belong to their party came up to the bar. He stood beside Y/n and flashed an easy smile.

“You weren’t saving this space, were you?”

“No,” Y/n’s voice was strained, coughing from the vodka, “Go for it.”

The man flagged down the bartender, “Something strong, please. But,” he pointed to Y/n, “Not whatever she had.”

Feeling like she could see properly again, Y/n chuckled. “Smart choice.”

“I’m Paul,” the now-named stranger held out his hand.

She shook it, “Y/n.”

Colin stayed silent beside Y/n, smiling and sipping his drink.

“Are you here with friends?” Paul asked in a thick Irish accent.

“Uh, sort of,” Y/n glanced back the corner of the room the Greyhounds occupied, “After-hours work thing.”

“Ah,” Paul nodded and thankfully didn’t follow her gaze, “Don’t know how many people want to spend a Saturday night with their co-workers.”

Y/n shrugged, trying to give as little information as possible. “Bit of an unconventional workplace.”

“Okay, well, now you’ve got to tell me what you do,” Paul said plainly.

“Ha,” Y/n smiled, “If I do, I’ll never get rid of you. Trust me.”

“No, no,” Paul held up both hands, “You tell me, I get my drink, and then I leave with a useless fact about a stranger whose name I’ve already forgotten.”

Y/n laughed again. This particular club didn’t strike her as somewhere you’d meet a genuinely nice guy. It was a surprise, and if nothing else, it was pleasant conversation.

“You’re…” Paul decided to start guessing, “Personal assistant to some 5-star chef.”

“If that were true, I wouldn’t have so many takeaway menus in my kitchen drawers,” Y/n replied, visions of Christmas dinner two months before flashing through her head.

“Ah,” Paul winced, strike one, “You’re…a dancer and you’re out with your company.”

Y/n scoffed, “I’m flattered, but no.”

Paul pressed a finger to his lips, twisting fully to face Y/n. It was the most polite way of checking someone out she’d seen.

He pointed towards her, “You’re-“

“There you are,” Jamie exclaimed, sliding up to Y/n, “Babe, I was looking for ya.”

Y/n’s mouth hung open, ready to reply to Paul but struck speechless by the interruption.

“Told ya, waiter could’ve brought us refills,” Jamie slid an arm around Y/n’s shoulders and tugged her into his side. “Didn’t have to do it yourself,” he finally took his eyes off Y/n and turned to Paul, “Good night, eh, lad?”

With nothing more than two sentences, Jamie had sent a clear message to Paul that his presence was not required, needed or wanted in the slightest.

“Yeah,” Paul nodded in defeat, “Good night. Hope the same for you,” he gave Y/n a thin smile, “Cheers.”

Y/n awkwardly held up a hand, waving him goodbye, before turning to Jamie. “And what was that?”

“Me savin’ ya,” he answered as if it were obvious. His eyes followed Paul across the room till he was satisfied by the distance. “These places are lousy with creeps.”

“But he wasn’t,” Y/n argued, though it wasn’t really an argument. She hadn’t felt one way or the other about Paul. “He was just nice.”

“I can vouch,” Colin made his presence known again, “Saw the whole thing.”

Details mattered very little to Jamie. The truth of it was, he wasn’t even sure why he had stopped the conversation. The moment he’d glanced over at Colin and Y/n’s spot on the couch and seen it was empty, he went on high alert. Colin could fuck off wherever he wanted, but not knowing where Y/n was unsettled him.

And seeing some guy, creep or no creep, chatting Y/n up and making her laugh felt wrong. Very wrong. So wrong.

“‘Course he was nice,” Jamie replied, “The good ones are always nice at first. That’s how they get ya.”

Y/n watched Jamie mansplain men to her, something she thought was impossible to do. Neither of them really realized his arm was still around her, effectively proclaiming to the club that she was off-limits.

“Well, congratulations,” Y/n took the glass Colin handed her, annoyed yet unable to stop from smirking, “You protected me from harmless small talk with the first person I’ve spoken to outside of work since I started with you clowns.”

Jamie could sense the sarcasm, he didn’t particularly care. The threat had been neutralized. He shrugged, “You’re welcome.”

—————————

A few days later, Y/n was sat at her breakfast table. She watched the busy street below out her window. There was a peace to the hustle and bustle of Richmond that differed from the rest of London. Everyone had a destination, but no one was really in a hurry to get there. It was one of the things that she liked most about living in the middle of it all.

A ‘ding’ from her phone redirected her attention. A Google and Twitter alert. There was a good chance it was pap photos coming out from the club’s night out. A bit late, but still possible.

Y/n held her breath as she reached for her phone. There weren’t a lot of flattering angles to have captured them at by the end of the evening. She tapped the screen to see it was…Keeley…who was trending.

“What…” Y/n mumbled, dropping her fork and typing in her passcode to search further.

Not pap photos. Worse. So much worse.

“What…” she breathed.

There’d been a massive leak of private photos and videos, mostly from celebrities. Among them was Keeley. A racy video of the former model from a few years ago was spreading like wildfire across the digital landscape.

“Oh my gosh,” Y/n whispered as she scrolled various reactions and unfortunate screenshots. She threw her phone down when clips began to fill her feed. The whole country was watching it. Talking about it. Laughing at it.

Y/n scarfed down the rest of her eggs, grabbed her keys and hurried out the door.

—————————

Keeley nearly didn’t answer the door. When the insistent banging didn’t stop, she caved and peeled herself off her bedroom floor. She peeked out the window to see one of the only people she felt like speaking to at the moment.

“I just saw,” Y/n blurted out as soon as Keeley opened the door, “I’m so sorry.”

Keeley exhaled, putting her hands over her face, “I don’t know what happened. I don’t know how it happened. I don’t know what the fuck-“

“Hey, hey,” Y/n placed her hands on Keeley’s shoulders and guided her inside, “C’mon.”

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Keeley continued, barely registering that she was moving and that Y/n had shut the front door, “My family’s gonna see it. The team. Our clients!”

“I know,” Y/n replied, sitting them both down on the couch, “But the clients don’t matter right now.”

They did, terribly so, but Y/n wasn’t going to bring that up.

Raking her hands through her hair, Keeley stumbled for words. “I’m so embarrassed. I’m so fucking embarrassed.”

Y/n rubbed a hand over her boss’s arm, “I’m so sorry, Keeley.”

There was no way to fix any part of the awful situation, but Y/n, just by being there, made Keeley feel 1% better. It was better to hurt with someone than to do it alone. Jack had just left and the last thing Keeley wanted to be at the moment was by herself.

“You came all the way here because you saw?” Keeley asked, struck by the sentiment.

“Well,” Y/n shrugged, “Yeah.”

Since Amsterdam, Keeley had seen Y/n’s walls come down, or weaken at least. She hadn’t pushed too hard on the matter, she rather enjoyed the new Y/n. But this, this was entirely out of character.

Keeley threw her arms around her neck, grateful and in need of a hug.

A few months ago, Y/n would have shimmied out as soon as she could. But this wasn’t then, and she tightly wrapped her arms around Keeley, doing what little she could to comfort her.

“This is fucked up,” Y/n sighed.

“So fucked up,” Keeley whimpered, stuck somewhere between a sob and a laugh.

Y/n pulled back, still holding on, “We’re gonna get you through this. I promise.”

Keeley took a shaky breath, “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Y/n smiled, “C’mon, KJPR. Dealing with shitty headlines is our superpower.”

Keeley managed a laugh before digging back into Y/n, the two of them locked in a heavyhearted embrace.

—————————

“No, Miss Jones has no comment on the data leak,” Y/n repeated into her phone, shutting down the fifth reporter of the morning, “Have a lovely day.”

Hanging up, she let her forehead hit her desk. It had been a full day since Keeley’s video hit the internet and she could only pray people lost interest and moved on soon. She had made Keeley promise not to answer any calls, instead forwarding the reporters to her. Most of them were men, but all of them were intrusive.

“A dick pic leaks on the internet,” she grumbled and dragged herself out of her chair, “And fuck all, but armies mobilize for a naked woman.”

Y/n grabbed her notebook and left her office, jogging down the staircase to go about her day as normally as she could.

“Hey, Y/n,” Ted called, exiting his office just as she entered the hallway. A vaguely familiar child was walking beside him.

“Hey,” Y/n half-smiled.

“Haven’t gotten a chance to introduce you,” Ted put his hands on the boy’s shoulders, “This is my son, Henry. Henry, this is Y/n.”

Henry smiled up at Y/n, “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too,” Y/n realized she’d seen him in a picture on Ted’s desk, “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Hey, listen,” Ted pointed towards the stairs, “I gotta talk to Rebecca, won’t be more than a half hour or so. Would you mind watchin’ Henry?”

“Uh…” Y/n sputtered, “I mean, sure, yeah, but don’t you have training?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ted quickly said, his mind was clearly somewhere else. He felt around his pockets and pulled out a small box. “Yeah, you know what? Y’all are gonna start training for me.”

While Henry’s face lit up, Y/n’s electrified with anxiety.

“Yeah,” Ted grinned, looking to his son, “There you go. You can go back home, tell all your friends you got to coach a football team. How ‘bout that?”

“Yeah,” Henry said with great enthusiasm.

“Uh, Ted,” Y/n waved a hand, “While Henry,” she smiled for his sake, “May be really good at coaching, I’m definitely not qualified.”

Ted waved a supportively dismissive hand back, “Ain’t nothin’ to it. Get ‘em started on warmups, I’ll be down before they really get goin’,” he handed Y/n the box, “Got this for Roy, but he ain’t gonna use it. You go on.”

With Henry looking up at her like she held the key to his happiness, Y/n didn’t have much of a choice.

“Alright,” she exhaled, feigning excitement, “Let’s go coach a football team.”

“Thanks,” Ted kneeled down to Henry, “Listen to what Y/n says, yeah?”

“Will do, Mr. Magoo,” Henry gave his dad a thumbs up.

Y/n’s eyes widened at the phrasing, there were two of them.

“Alright,” Y/n clapped her hands together as Ted left them on their own, “Let me go set this back in my office and we’ll head out, yeah?”

“Okay,” Henry nodded, following Y/n up the stairs, “So what do you do here?”

Y/n sighed, “Well, I help run the social media accounts. I help the boys with their interviews. Y’know how you see football or baseball players on commercials? I help those happen.”

“Wow,” Henry said as they got to Y/n’s office, “That sounds cool.”

Y/n slid her notebook onto her desk, and faced Henry, “Yeah, it kind of is.” Anywhere else, even she would admit her job was boring, but Richmond had changed that. “Let’s see what your dad gave me.”

Opening the tiny box revealed a plastic yellow whistle. Y/n chuckled, Roy definitely wouldn’t be using this.

“So why’d you come to England?” Henry continued to ask questions, “If you’re American.”

Omitting key details, Y/n slid the whistle around her neck. “I came over for school and loved it so much I just never left.”

“Do you ever miss America?” Henry stayed next to Y/n as they descended the stairs.

That was trickier to disguise. If Y/n was honest, she didn’t miss her home country. It was hard to miss the place all her worst memories had occurred. England had been a refuge before becoming her true home.

“Sometimes,” Y/n replied, guiding Henry down the hall, “I have a little sister who still lives there. I miss her all the time…” she smiled, “And Arby’s.”

Henry agreed just as they reached the doors that would take them outside.

“Alright,” Y/n pressed her hands to the door, “Now these guys are the best in the whole country, in my opinion, so we can’t go easy on them.”

“Got it,” Henry nodded.

“We’re gonna have to work them really hard,” Y/n added.

“I agree.”

Y/n narrowed her eyes, “You ready?”

Henry grinned, “Ready.”

Theatrically, Y/n threw the doors open and they marched down the tunnel.

The boys were stretching and conversing and had yet to notice their coaches were missing. Y/n and Henry headed over to the dugout, Y/n thanking her morning self for deciding on wearing sneakers.

“Do you have a favorite player?” She asked.

“Jamie Tartt,” Henry answered without hesitation, “The first time I visited, he signed my shirt.”

Y/n’s heart fluttered with warmth, “That was nice of him.”

“On my soccer team back home, I’m #9,” Henry continued, “Just like him.”

Y/n’s eyes scanned the group of Greyhounds, finding #9 laughing about something with Isaac. There were probably hundreds, thousands of kids who looked up to Jamie Tartt, but Henry’s admiration was something special.

“Well,” Y/n crossed her arms, “We’ll make sure Jamie has plenty to do.”

Clapping her hands to get the Greyhounds’ attention, Y/n and Henry stepped onto the pitch. “Alright, boys, here’s the deal. Coach has appointed me and Henry here,” she put her hands on Henry’s shoulders, “As your new coaches for the next thirty minutes.”

The team was understandably confused but amused once they saw Henry’s bright eyes. Training was to double as babysitting.

“Now, you’re dealing with one of America’s next top footballers,” Y/n jiggled Henry playfully, “And a woman whose life you all have made incredibly colorful, particularly last weekend…” she gave a thick grin. After their celebration at the club, many of the Greyhounds had needed to be poured into cabs. The task fell to the most sober of them, and Y/n had taken little joy in wrangling them into the backseats. “No one’s going easy on anyone today.”

The boys ‘oohed’ and laughed amongst themselves.

“Alright,” she shouted, “One lap,” Y/n gave a sharp blow on the whistle, “Let’s go!”

All credit to them, the team obeyed orders and set off around the edge of the pitch.

As he passed by, Jamie stopped to give Henry a fist bump.

“How ya been, lad?”

“Good,” Henry grinned, his spirits had lifted even higher the moment Jamie walked in his direction.

“Good,” Jamie stood to his full height to face Y/n, smirking, “Don’t get enough of this with Roy?”

With mere inches between their faces, Y/n blew the whistle smugly, “Fallin’ behind there, Tartt.”

Jamie set off with a smile and ran to catch up to his teammates. Y/n being on the pitch was a surprising, but welcome start to his day.

The boys were about halfway around the pitch when Y/n and Henry started forming their game plan.

“What should we have them do next?”

Henry thought a moment, “What about knee kicks? That’s my favorite exercise.”

“I like it,” Y/n walked across the grass to retrieve one of the balls, “But you better be ready to show them how it’s done.”

Henry’s entire face lit up, the glow radiating onto Y/n’s knowing she’d made it happen. She was going to make sure he went home with the best stories.

The Greyhounds came around the bend, well and warmed up.

“What next, Coach Y/n?” Dani asked enthusiastically.

“Now,” Y/n set the ball on the grass and kicked it to Henry, “You’re in the hands of Coach Lasso.”

Y/n stepped to the side to give Henry the spotlight. The boys all cheered him on as he came to join them, holding the ball under his arm.

“We’re gonna do a knee kick contest,” he said proudly, “We’ll see who can go the longest, and,” Henry scanned the group, “Jamie’ll go first.”

Jamie pressed his fingers to his puffed out chest, stepping forward, “I’m honored.”

Henry tossed him the ball, Jamie easily caught it. Y/n popped the whistle back in her mouth and it shrieked.

“Begin!”

Jamie bounced the ball from knee to knee, the team forming a ring around him to watch. They started cheering each time Jamie’s body made contact, Henry the loudest of them all. He kept it going about thirty seconds before losing it.

Y/n spared him a clap, purposefully holding back, “Not bad.”

Jamie frowned at her, the tips of his lips still curling up.

“Who’s next, Henry?” Y/n asked.

“Sam,” he answered.

Jamie launched the ball at his teammate, Sam caught it and they switched spots.

He lasted the same amount of time as Jamie, Isaac lasted twenty five seconds, Dani lasted forty, Colin lasted twenty eight.

“Alright,” Y/n clapped as Bumbercatch finished his turn, “I think it’s time you boys learned from a true professional.”

Henry stepped up, taking Y/n’s smile as his cue, and caught the ball from Bumbercatch. The boys chanted his name, surrounding him in gleeful anticipation.

Henry began to kick, feeding off the support of the Greyhounds. Y/n stepped back a few feet and pulled out her phone, snapping a few pictures for Ted.

Out of all the Premier League teams filled with cocky young men earning million dollar paychecks, Y/n couldn’t imagine there were many who would behave like the Greyhounds. They were jumping up and down, cheering and counting for Henry as he bounced the ball. It was all so genuine, and they didn’t even realize the extent of what they were doing. They were giving Henry memories he’d cherish forever.

Eventually, Henry kicked the ball for Sam to catch and the boys went wild. Jamie leaped into the air and started victoriously running with Henry, the rest of them following.

Y/n hit the whistle, “Well, I think we can all agree Henry’s the winner.”

The team agreed quite vocally.

“You haven’t gone yet,” Henry called.

“Oh,” Y/n shook her head, “I-“

“No, no, no,” Colin pointed to Y/n, “Boyo’s right. Everyone’s gotta give it a go.”

“That’s right,” Jamie clasped his hands together, “Fair’s fair, Coach.”

Y/n rolled her eyes, stepping onto the pitch to supportive hoots and hollers. Sam threw her the ball and she got into position, taking a deep breath. She’d never touched a football in her life.

Dropping the ball, she clumsily passed from one knee to the other. Henry and the Greyhounds cheered her on as they had each other. She lasted about ten seconds before she felt herself losing it and kicked it across the field. It didn’t make it to the goal, but even Y/n was impressed by how far it travelled.

The Greyhounds went wild, making a massive deal of her minimal accomplishment. A few of them punched her in the arm or high fived her.

“Alright,” Y/n laughed it off, “Henry, what’s next?”

“Corner kicks,” he said decisively, “Last one to grab the ball’s a rotten egg. Go!”

Henry took off before he’d finished speaking, the Greyhounds following. They spent the next ten minutes practicing corner kicks, once again, Henry and the boys insisting that Y/n took part. Pulling closer to the net than the pros, she was able to score a goal, resulting in wild cheers. Dani picked her up and spun her around and Jamie slung an arm around her neck the seconds she was back on the ground. When Henry scored, the Greyhounds lifted him up on their shoulders and ran him around the field.

When Ted gathered himself and headed back out to the pitch, he stopped short at the sight before him. His son, having the time of his life, surrounded by the team. And Y/n, facilitating it all, but enjoying every bit of it herself.

Ted smiled, deciding to watch as long as he could until someone spotted him.

—————————

Later in the day, Y/n drove to the KJPR offices. She hadn’t heard anything from Keeley and wanted to stay as close as she could to help in whatever way she could.

Y/n knocked at Keeley’s door and entered, “Hi.”

Keeley was sat at her desk, pouring over something on her laptop. Most likely, it had nothing to do with business. “Hi,” she mumbled.

“Looking at Twitter isn’t going to help anything,” Y/n sighed, entering the room.

Keeley didn’t look up from her screen, “It’s Facebook.”

Y/n scoffed, “That definitely won’t help anything.”

Keeley tore her eyes away, closing out the browser and turning to Y/n. “How bad’s it been?”

“Oh, Daily Mail were eager to talk,” Y/n fell into the chair opposite her boss, “Didn’t think that was the best avenue to go.”

Barely breathing a chuckle, Keeley ran her hands through her hair.

“I’m not letting anyone get close to you,” Y/n reassured, “And the good news is, the press’ll move on within a few days.”

Keeley glanced up with doubtful eyes.

Y/n regretted the words as soon as she’d said them, “Albeit, they’ll run with this all week. But still,” she reached over and held out her hand, “We’re gonna get through this.”

Keeley exhaled and took Y/n’s hand, squeezing like she was her lifeline.

A knock hit the door and they turned to see Barbara. Keeley did her best to appear as if all was well.

“Is now a good time, Ms. Jones?” Barbara asked, sparing Y/n a polite smile.

“Yes, of course,” Keeley answered perkily, “Yeah.”

Barbara came to stand beside Y/n’s chair, holding a single sheet of paper. “I’m sorry about what happened.”

Keeley looked like she was on the verge of tears, “Thank you, Barbara.”

“Um,” Barbara turned to Y/n, “Does someone have the press-“

Y/n held up a hand, “Got it covered.”

“Good,” she nodded, turning back to Keeley and handing her the sheet, “Jack asked me to give you this.”

“What is it?” Keeley asked.

“It’s a statement,” Barbara replied.

Keeley scanned the text before reading it aloud, “”Allow me to first offer my sincerest apologies,” her brows popped up, “”I deeply regret that video that some of you have seen online. I’m beyond embarrassed, and I never should have made this video in the first place.”

Y/n’s lips parted, even Barbara averted her gaze.

“‘I hope you can forgive me while I learn and grow,’” Keeley finished, looking up to Barbara confusedly.

“Jack thought you could post it across your socials,” Barbara said, “But maybe not Facebook, ‘cause that’s just for grandparents and racists now, isn’t it?”

In her despair, Keeley managed to give a gentle smile and Barbara didn’t miss it as her cue to excuse herself.

Y/n sat still at the desk, her mind flooding with rage. If she didn’t know better, she’d think that the “statement” had been written by a man. How could private property leak and somehow it could be turned around to be the victim’s fault? Worse, how could Jack be alright with it?

“Do you think,” Keeley stared at the letter, “I should put it out?”

In answering, Y/n wasn’t just giving business advice, she was wading into Jack and Keeley’s relationship, something that was entirely off limits. Clubbing with the boys was one thing, relationship talk was way too personal.

“I…” Y/n struggled, “I really don’t think it’s-“

“Please,” Keeley’s eyes snapped up to Y/n, “Don’t do that. I need your honest opinion,” she took a breath, “Do you think this is the right thing to do?”

Y/n had never seen Keeley be so firm, nor had anyone ever called her out on her hesitation. It was a snap back to the reality of the situation.

“Absolutely not,” she answered, speaking with total confidence, “This isn’t a statement, it’s shaming. You dare to do what most of these corporate fuckers do with their mistresses with someone you love, someones steals it from you, and it’s somehow your fault?” Y/n grimaced with rage, “You have nothing to apologize for. You’re the one who got screwed over, you’re the one who’s owed an apology. It is not the other way around.”

Y/n paused, trying to collect herself. “Keeley…please don’t put this out. For all women who have ever had something like this happen, just…please.”

Keeley nodded, as if it only confirmed what she was already thinking.

“Look, you and Jack are…you and Jack and you need to talk about this, but,” Y/n sighed, taking Keeley’s hand once more, “Don’t do it.”

The two of them sat in silence, Keeley eventually folding up the paper and rising from her seat.

“Is Rebecca in today?”

“Yeah,” Y/n answered, “Probably expecting you.”

Keeley nodded as she grabbed her purse, “Tea?”

Y/n frowned as she gathered her purse, “I can’t. Ted’s got a presser.”

The women exited the office together, riding the elevator down without a single word spoken. When they reached the parking lot, they went their separate ways.

“Keeley,” Y/n called once she’d reached her car, “Do I need to…talk to Roy or anything? Make sure he doesn’t speak to the press?”

“No,” Keeley paused her keys in their slot. It was an uncomfortable topic, but PR didn’t care about comfort. “Not, uh…no, not Roy.”

Y/n waited to see if there was more to the answer. At least she was spared a deeply awkward conversation with Roy. The extent of their relationship was a mutual love of yelling at Jamie. She just prayed whichever ex of Keeley’s the video was meant for kept their mouth shut.

“Okay,” she decided not to push, “Hey,” she drew Keeley’s attention one last time, trying to keep her smile, “We’ve got this.”

Keeley gave a watery one back. If she didn’t have Jack’s support, she knew she had someone’s. “Yeah.”

—————————

It wasn’t often that there was so much work it warranted coming in on a Saturday. But a resort chain wanted Dani to do an endorsement for them and the only time their PR department could speak was the weekend. Plus, damage control for Keeley had taken up the lions share of Y/n’s week.

She was sat at her desk, returning an email and waiting for the phone to ring. It was kind of nice having the place to herself, but strange for Nelson Road to be completely silent. Usually from her office, Y/n could hear the sound of the boys conversing loudly down the stairs or Ted’s whistle on the pitch.

Her cell dinged, louder because of the quiet. Y/n picked it up to see it was a text from Jamie.

What you up to?

Y/n snapped a quick picture of her desk and fired it off.

Waiting for the call proved to be tedious as the man she was supposed to speak to was late. She began to scroll social media, her phone having alerted her to the fact that Ted was trending. She found that he and Beard had taken Henry to a West Ham match. A photo of the three of them was flooding the football community.

Where she might have resented Ted months ago, or anguished over the clean up she’d have to do, Y/n couldn’t help but laugh. There was a story to be told and she was sure she’d hear it on Monday. It also didn’t escape her that Beard had made a point of coming in full AFC Richmond attire.

“Damn right,” she said to herself.

Knock knock.

“Fucking hell,” Y/n exclaimed, her chair rolling back a few inches.

Jamie grinned, “Sorry.”

“No, no,” Y/n held her hand to her chest, “My heart needed to be reset.”

“What’re you doin’ here?” Jamie asked, shoving into the office.

“Dani’s got a deal with a resort,” she answered, rolling back to her desk, “This was the only day they could talk.”

Jamie nodded, wandering around the room. For all the time they spent together, he never had much of a reason to be in Y/n’s office.

Y/n got a good look at Jamie’s outfit, “And…what are we wearing?”

Jamie turned on his heel, looking down at himself. He saw nothing controversial about the vest, hoodie and joggers combo. “Fashion,” he answered, gesturing down his body.

“Right,” Y/n replied as she checked her inbox. She wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to his particular taste in clothing. “Where’ve you been today?”

“Eh, stopped by Keeley’s,” he answered, coming to sit down across the desk, “See how she was doin’.”

“Oh,” Y/n replied, glancing back at her computer before two loose pieces in her mind connected and stilled her. Why did Jamie have any reason to check in on Keeley if not…?

“How, uh,” Y/n stuttered, “How’s she doing?” She hadn’t spoken to Keeley yet, unsure as to how she’d handled the conversation with Jack.

Jamie shrugged, “She’s alright. I, eh…” he scratched the back of his neck, “Yeah, she’s okay.”

Y/n looked up and smiled, suddenly feeling like she was intruding on something deeply personal. “Good.”

By now, Jamie was a pro at reading her expressions. If not the intricacies, the general vibe. He pointed a finger, “What’s that face?”

“What face?” Y/n asked.

“That face,” Jamie moved a little closer in his chair, “Everything’s fine but it’s not, you make that face.”

Y/n attempted to shrug it off, wanting to shrug out of the entire situation. “Jamie, I’m fine. I’m glad Keeley’s okay, glad you went to check on her.”

Jamie watched carefully, trying to decode the layers of what she was saying and, more importantly, not saying. He retracted his finger into his fist when he guessed.

“Oh.”

Y/n’s eyes darted up from her laptop screen and back down.

“How’d you not know that?”

“Know what?”

A single laugh and Jamie smiled, “You’re a lot of things, but you ain’t dumb.”

Y/n grimaced, wishing she could disappear into thin air. Moments like these made her miss her boundaries. Isolated as they kept her, they had merit.

“I didn’t know you two…” she awkwardly pursed her lips and stared down at her keyboard.

“All that research,” Jamie smiled at her awkwardness, “Didn’t look into that bit?”

“It’s not my job to know who’s sleeping with who,” Y/n replied quickly, hating how she’d phrased that.

Jamie hummed, “Kinda is.”

Public relations did involve handling all types of headlines. Personal and otherwise.

“Well, you didn’t tell me either,” Y/n retorted.

“I thought you knew,” Jamie enunciated with a laugh.

Y/n couldn’t place what changed, but knowing that her boss and the person who was effectively her closest friend had dated made her feel…uneasy. Knowing such an intimate video had been made for someone she knew, she felt like she’d seen some side of Keeley and Jamie not meant for her to ever know about.

“Right,” Y/n spread her hands over her desk, “Are there any more relationships, past, present or potential, in this club that I need to know about?”

Jamie thought a moment, deciding to exclude any and all locker room talk he’d been present for regarding Y/n. It had started the second she’d walked through the door, dying down and picking back up every once in a while.

“You’re safe,” Jamie replied, finding her discomfort cute.

Any further conversation was blissfully halted as Y/n’s desk phone rang. Finally. She moved to pick it up but was met with Jamie’s hand fending her off.

“Jamie, what-“

Jamie shushed her, nudging her hand away. He lifted the phone off its base and flopped back into his chair.

“Ms. Y/l/n’s office,” he greeted, his Mancunian accent disappearing to turn posh and nasally, “How may I help you?”

Y/n covered her mouth to silence her snort. She waved for the phone with her free hand.

“And she knows why you’re calling?” Jamie continued, sliding away from Y/n’s grasp. “Hold, please.”

He covered the microphone with his palm and smiled. Y/n’s annoyance was a poor mask over her joy.

“It’s for you,” he whispered.

Y/n shook her head and yanked the phone out of his grip. “Hey, Oscar,” she greeted, “Glad we could finally touch base.”

Jamie fell back in his seat, content to wait and watch her take the call. He was happy to stay and bother her as long as he could.

And Y/n would let him, without hesitation.

———————

Heartfirst Taglist: @lalla-04p @optimisticsandwichgladiator @makingmunson94 @taytaylala12 @storysimp @sokkigarden @lightninginab0ttle @poohkie90 @alipap3 @verra-nerevarine @shineforever19 @spaceagechimera @burnafter-reading @qardasngan @cyberpvnk-enthusiast @sogoodtoheritsvicious @buckybarnex @angelsunflxwer @blueanfield @thewildestwonderland @sablecities @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo @strawberryacethingz @mentalistfan @tortilla-maria1 @katdahlali @for-fuck-sake-im-alive @glitterquadricorn @jamieolivia27 @imvibin69 @katlizada @lil-tracys @fanaticalfantasist @heyitz-julia @cactajuice @peachyy-tea @notalxx @rockchickrebel @anxiety-prime-max @mentalistfan @loveforaugust @jellycolors @actuallybarb @heletsmelovehim @lovinnscarletknight @imfalling-inlove @leslieiscrying @meg-ro @littlemisssunshine192 @beboldbebravethings @maydayfigment @spencerreidsbookclub @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @lemoonandlestars @im-a-weirdo-for-life @mindless-rock (tags cont. in comments ❤️)

#ted lasso fic #ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso fanfiction #ted lasso imagine #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt imagine #ted lasso x reader #keeley jones x reader #heartfirst

[monicahar]

—guide on how to fluster the wanderer in four simple steps!

ever wanted your mean lil gremlin of a lover to blush before your very eyes? well, well, you've come the right person!

gn! reader, crack & fluff, dark humor cuz obv i will never miss a chance to bully scara, gets suggestive at the end cause why not djsjsjdjdj idk what im doing i have 26 drafts collecting dust and this is the first thing i finished 💀 help me

# i. choose the appropriate time to strike.

this is the most essential factor in making your huffy lover get embarrassed and not accidentally behead you in a fit.

(he'd never do such a thing on purpose, atleast.)

failing to follow in accordance to this particular step will certainly lead to unwanted consequences such as;

ignoring you the whole day(😦), blasting you off onto another nation(😨), a slight chance of having your head not intact by the end of the day(😰), no warm huggie wuggies from your pretty boyfie(😫) and the ever-dreaded deprivation of authority over his hat(😱)—you couldn't bear to not wear it for a bare minimum of 10 minutes a day!

but if it all comes to shove and you successfully select the perfect timing to initiate your relentless attack on his pride and ego, you might as well prepare your fragile heart for a blessing of a sight such as reddened cheeks present on his fair face as everything from now will be considered smooth sailing! not that hard now, is it?

“you've been gawking at me for a while. what do you want?” you don't flinch a bit when he abruptly closes the book he was previously reading, turning his head to meet your staring eyes with a bothered glare of his own.

ignoring his rather harsh acknowledgement of your silent yearning for his attention to be woven towards you instead of that book he's holding, you blink to yourself as something hits you. he raises a brow at your silence and the seemingly fleeting moment of enlightenment that crosses your blank expression.

the quietude and solitary peace of the room and its atmosphere along with him not throwing his book at you from staring at him basically the whole time he was engorging himself in the piece literature he's holding strongly suggested he was in a good mood.

a perfect moment to strike arises!

# ii. formulate the right approach.

whether your attack should be mild/teasing or rather heated/steamy—it heavily depends on the situation you've chosen and deemed as the appropriate time to strike.

take note of some his small actions to concur what he's feeling at the moment—is he feeling a tad bit annoyed? is he currently in one his clingy moods? does he look like he wants to murder you? or is he just neutral, awaiting for something to interrupt the usual streak of normalcy and growing boredom in his day?

but right now, in your current time—he was just reading his book before he finally picked up and confronted your lengthened staring burning the side of his face.

so something a bit more on the light teasing side would fit. if you brought up some type of dirty joke right now amidst the very normal and quiet day you both are having, he'd probably stand up, approach you with his light footsteps, and backhandedly slap you across the face for being such a horndog.

(that was a joke, for legal reasons. he's more likely to just squint his eyes at you weirdly and continue on reading his book, resulting into the failure of your plan to see him get embarrassed. game over.)

choosing to be a clever dog just this once, you coordinate your attack to match up along with your reply to his earlier question—barking back with the intention to strike at one of his weak points only open to his lover; his perfected features that make up his beautiful face.

raising a hand to your cheek as to feign shyness from being caught red-handed by staring at him, you let out a hearty giggle to soothe his nerves—his frown immediately dissipating from the sound of your laughter. his last defensive barrier: shattered. shutting your eyes knowingly as you raise a cup of bitter tea to your lips, you already know you've won.

“hehe, my bad. you just look a bit more handsome today.”

“...”

a beat of silence overcomes the short exchange of words.

it might seem light or weak to others, heck, even you see it as a bit pathetic, but to the complete virgin former harbinger, he views it totally differently from how others would have expected.

a small push filled with sincerity and truth is his breaking point a hundred percent of the time.

lifting your eyelids as you place your teacup down, your heart clenches at the sight before you.

# iii. relish in the rare moment of weakness.

soak it all up as much as you can. but don't let greed take over you at the taste of victory.

moments such as these aren't anywhere near common at all. your excitement is nearly overflowing but you have to keep yourself still as to not ruin it for yourself.

you're so used to being shut down and ending in utter failure when trying to pry a positive reaction from him—that you could probably just burst from happiness alone when he finally concedes relents to your teasing.

you'd have to hold yourself down from pouncing on him from the display of sheer cuteness he's currently presenting to you, albeit you were quite annoyed with how he's trying hard to hide the rosy cheeks and ears you adored underneath the shadow of his hat.

why is he wearing his hat inside your shared inn? you don't know.

pushing yourself off from your seat, you quietly approach the man sitting across from you, cautious in your movements as to not startle and scare him away at this small window of vulnerability—already well-informed of his past experiences regarding it.

gently lifting his hat up and discarding it onto a nearby tabletop, he stares at you with wide eyes as you quickly swoop down to peck his forehead, and then down to his lips before pulling away just as hastily.

the caught-off-guard look on his face makes you coo at the sight in the back of your mind.

eyeing his flushed state, you can't help but let out a soft sigh as you seat yourself on his lap, wrapping your hands around him to pull him closer, chests against each other's as he remains stiffened underneath your loving hold.

cute.

“handsome.” you mutter, pressing a chaste kiss to his jaw. “my handsome boy.”

# iv. now, freestyle. 😼

do you want to cut the moment short, play hard to get and leave him wanting for more? or do you want to prolong the playful mood—and quite possibly, lead it into something more?

if you've started something, then you're surely going to finish it, right?

the wanderer, after all—dislikes people when they're all bark and no bite.

“you said that just to tease me, didn't you?” his clammy hands that were suspended in the air for so long out of surprise finally made themselves home to your hips, his hold on it nearly bruising as he desperately tries to calm down his erratic emotions. “always think you're so funny, huh.” he mutters.

“i supposed so, initially. it still held truth in the end though. i like your cute reactions.” you admit with a lop-sided smile, cupping his burning cheek as you slight lean away to look at him wholly. “a very handsome boyfriend, indeed.” you nod in affirmation, making him narrow his eyes.

his blush is now non-existent as he's now back to his normal self, having gained composure as quickly as it left the moment you sat yourself on his lap. he was cute earlier, avoiding your gaze and all that, but this side of him was undoubtedly way more attractive. his exuding confidence always never fails to drive you crazy.

a shiver makes it way down your spine when an all-knowing smirk makes its way to his lips.

“alright then, [name].” he leans back on his chair, his hands not leaving your hips to keep you anchored atop of him, the expanse of his lean body now a lot more visible to you. “what's your next course of action? are you going to stand up and disappoint me? ...or are you going to live up to the hinted suggestions of your less-than-friendly touches just now?”

there it was. that daring gaze of his.

are you going to continue upholding the streak of normalcy you didn't know you were both capable of, or will you give in to your desires?

and then nahida barges in, slaps both of you with an overgrown radish and everyone starts behaving like proper educated adults 🥰 the end.

#scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #kunikuzushi x reader #genshin x reader #genshin drabbles #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact x reader #har❗fiction #scaramouche fluff

[rynwritesstuff]

Willow

Pirate!Kylo Ren x Reader

Warnings: Gentle yearning, longing stares, they love each other but Kylo is oblivious and moody

Word count: 710

Summary: Captain Kylo Ren appreciates the sunset (and other beautiful things.)

*Edit is not mine, credit to @kyloremus​ !!*

“I’m like the water when your ship rolled in that night. [...] The more that you say, the less I know, wherever you stray, I follow. I’m begging for you to take my hand, wreck my plans, that’s my man.” - Willow, Taylor Swift 

The ship rocks back and forth as it sails through the sea. Captain Kylo Ren stands on the deck of the ship, looking out at the blue waves and appreciating the beauty of the sunset reflecting on the water. He is a quiet man. Quiet, and solemn, and hard to understand. 

You love it. 

You come up behind him and put your hand on his shoulder. He glances over. Then, saying nothing, he looks back out at the orange, yellow, and pink hues that fill the sky. You know he likes it when you touch him, though. He leans into you ever so slightly, pressing his body closer to yours. 

You follow his line of vision, then smile softly as you squint at the brilliant display of colors. 

“You’re deep in thought,” you state. It isn’t a question. The Captain looks down at you, and you offer him a knowing smile. “What’s troubling you?”

He glances down at your chest for just a moment, looking at your breasts and silently enjoying the way they look in the dress he bought you just a few days prior. 

“Nothing,” Kylo says. “Can one not simply enjoy the sunset?”

You chuckle. He’s difficult. Always so fucking difficult.

“You may,” you say, nodding up at him. “Of course you may. I just thought that perhaps you would enjoy some company.”

Kylo says nothing, which you have come to understand means: Stay. He looks out at the water again. He loves it here at sea. You, not so much. It is easy to get seasick this far out, and you often long to plant your feet on solid ground, but when you have the Captain, you find that it’s a bit easier to endure. 

You are his companion, his woman. He has his men, most certainly, but none of them matter as much as you do. You are beautiful in his eyes, like a sculpture that the Gods took their time molding. He is not good at expressing his affection or admiration, but he enjoys these moments in which it is you, and him, and the sea. 

“The colors are wonderful,” you say, looking at the reflection in the water. Kylo is still staring at you. 

“Yes,” he says. “They are.” 

He takes note of your complexion, your hair, your eyes. Everything. Of course, he has done this many times before, but you look striking in the warm light. He tucks a stray piece of hair behind your ear, and you look up at him. 

“Do you want me tonight, Captain?” you ask softly. “Yes,” Kylo says. He likes it when you call him ‘Captain’. 

“When?” you ask. You do not make it a habit, asking him when he is going to fuck you, because it all depends on his fluctuating moods, but right now? He is staring at you hungrily, drinking you in like a man dying of thirst, and you think that perhaps he will tell you to go to his quarters now.

“When I have finished looking at you in this light,” Kylo says, his hand moving from your hair to your cheek. He pulls you forward, and you must admit that this behavior is surprising but very, very welcome. 

“Do you enjoy looking at me, Captain?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper as you lean into his touch. 

Kylo looks at your lips and begins to long for you, then leans forward and presses his lips against yours so as to not deny himself the simple pleasure of kissing you. His mouth works against yours delicately, gently, far gentler than you would think for a man like him. 

Your hand finds his hair, and you give it a gentle tug. 

“I would very much – mm – like to – mm – take you, Captain,” you tell him. The smallest of smiles tugs at the corner of Captain Ren’s mouth, and he pulls your body flush against his. 

“Well, who am I to say ‘no’ to such a beautiful woman?” he asks.

#kylo ren #kylo x reader #kylo ren x y/n #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren x you #kylo ren x yn #pirate!kylo ren x reader #pirate!kylo ren #star wars #kylo ren au #star wars characters #star wars character #star wars fanfiction #star wars au #rynwritesstuff

[lliminall]

Passione Boys After You Dump Them | Headcanons

How they react and how they try to win you back. Because we love to see a man grovel.

tags: gn reader, slightly toxic in some of them, nsfw implications in abbacchio’s

Giorno Giovanna

Your announcement that you wanted to break up with him wasn’t exactly a surprise to the Don. He’s perceptive of your feelings, and he knows that he doesn’t have as much free time as most. He certainly isn’t able to be there for you as often as other suitors would. That doesn’t mean he’s happy to hear it, though.

This may be one of the few moments where you see his carefully crafted shell begin to crack. You mean more to Giorno than you know. He’s had so few people he loves in his life. The thought of losing you breaks his heart in a way he hasn’t experienced before.

Giorno isn’t willing to let this conversation end until you see things his way, and he is incredibly persuasive when he wants to be. Maybe you should wait and cool off a bit, amore. He can take care of all of this if you’ll just give him some time.

But…you don’t give in. He realizes, too late, that in all the time he’s spent away from you, these problems have become too much for you to bear any longer. You made up your mind and nothing he says is going to change it. Any further attempts to convince you are equally rebuffed, until he accepts that you’re just not willing to speak to him right now.

So he gives you space. No big deal. He’s patient. He can keep himself from pursuing you…for a while. The last thing Giorno wants to do is act impulsively on his emotions, and he’s certainly feeling more emotional than usual right now. He lets you have some distance, but ultimately he’s confident in his ability to win you back. No one else can take care of you like he can.

There may never be a moment in his mind where he truly feels as if he’s lost you. You’re not really broken up, you’re just taking a break. Yes, maybe you were right in saying that he hasn’t been setting aside enough time for you. And yes, he can understand why you might feel as if you only come second place to other priorities in his life. He’s a busy guy! But you have to understand that he’s doing his best, and he’ll find a way to do better. For your sake.

So he leaves you alone. Maybe you need a few weeks, or even a month or two. When he feels you’ve calmed down enough, he’ll start reappearing in your life again. As a friend, of course! He wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable, ha ha, but you two have always gotten along, even before you were together, so surely you won’t object to him just checking in? :)

And it’s like you’d forgotten how easy he is to talk to. How helpful his advice is. How nice it feels to bask in the glow of one his soft, genuine smiles, which so few others are lucky enough to see. And so, maybe you end up spending more time with him than you wanted to, in the wake of your breakup. He acts so nonchalant about all of it, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world to be spending time with you, no awkwardness, no lingering bitterness, that you can’t help but lean into it.

He knows exactly the right time to strike up a conversation about getting back together. When you’re alone together and the mood is high (and maybe you’re starting to realize that you really do miss him. Just a little bit), he’ll lay a hand on your arm and finally allow himself to be honest with you again.

“I’ve thought about what you said, and I want to apologize for the ways I’ve fallen short. But you must understand, amore, there’s no one for me but you. If you can find it in yourself to give me another chance, I promise I’ll prove that to you.”

Guido Mista

Totally blindsided. He doesn’t even know how to react at first. I mean, sure, you two had been having some issues, but it wasn’t anything that serious, right?? He’s already planned your whole lives together. He even picked out the name of your future cat. You can’t just leave him now!

Be prepared to have a very long, very emotional argument. Mista cannot accept you leaving him, and he can’t understand why you’re not willing to stay and work these problems out. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him so distraught as he is now. He loves you so much, and he knows you love him too. Shouldn’t that be enough?

It isn’t, and you tell him that, and it absolutely crushes him. You’re both in tears by the time you leave, and even then he’s following you out the door trying to convince you to stay. He’ll be blowing up your phone afterwards, and then your email if you block him. There’s almost nothing too embarrassing for him at this point, he’d cashapp you money just to get you to read the note attached. This poor man lmao. He just really, really loves you, and he can’t not have you in his life.

He’s so mad at you. He can’t even remember the last time someone cut him this deep. The rest of the team is immediately made aware of how crushed he is, and Mista doesn’t even have to tell them. The cloud hanging over him is dark enough that passerby’s on the street can tell there’s something wrong with this man.

I can see him getting a bit nasty with you during this period. Whether it’s through text or if he manages to get you face to face, he’s not the type of person to hide how he feels, and right now he is feeling a lot.

“Well, I wouldn’t have to show up here if you would fucking unblock me and listen! Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell, ok? I just…you have to hear me out. Please?”

The time apart from you, no matter how long, leaves him absolutely miserable. The distance does give him time to think, though. About everything you said to him that night, the issues you couldn’t bear anymore. If you can’t bear the problems, and he can’t bear to be away from you, some compromises will just have to be made.

I give it a month, max, before he comes back to you, now much more level-headed and solemn. He’s trying his hardest to make things right again. He just needs you to meet him halfway.

Pannacotta Fugo

Fugo knew you two had been on the rocks lately. He isn’t an idiot. Every argument, every miscommunication, every day you became a bit more withdrawn, it was all noticed and filed away carefully in his mind. But when you finally find the courage to sit him down and tell him it’s over, he still can’t control himself. He’s panicked, at first, until he hides that vulnerability behind a much harder and safer emotion: his anger.

The resulting outburst, of course, only serves to strengthen your resolve. This is exactly why you had to leave to begin with, and as much as you’d hoped he would have found it in himself to be civil, you knew it would go like this. He’s so upset he can hardly breathe, and when the yelling finally becomes too much, you leave him to fall apart alone.

With time, the rage subsides to simmering anger that lingers and persists for weeks. It’s easier to pretend he hates you for it. You left him, like everyone always does. He trusted you and loved you more than anyone else, and processing those feelings is just too painful, so he turns them into anger instead. At least that’s an emotion he knows what to do with.

It isn’t sustainable, though. Maybe it takes a push from Bucciarati or another friend, someone he respects enough to take correction from, but sooner or later he realizes he has to process these awful feelings. He misses you. Every day. And maybe you weren’t entirely wrong about your reasons for leaving. But if those reasons were things that could be changed…maybe this can still be fixed.

The next time you see him, he’s unrecognizable from the man you left screaming in his apartment. He’s nervous, clearly, but composed. He asks you gently if you have time to talk, and the tension visibly drains from his body when you agree.

He starts by apologizing for how things went that night. He shouldn’t ever speak to you that way, and he knows that. He just didn’t know how to control himself then, but he’s learning those skills now! If there’s one thing Fugo can do, it’s study, and he tells you all about the books he’s been reading to better himself. Topics ranging from anger management, to emotional intelligence, to relationship conflict.

He asks, anxiously, if you would be willing to give him another shot. He’ll even agree to see a couples counselor, if it makes you feel more comfortable. He knows that with his effort to improve, and your willingness to find better ways to work with him, you two can work all of this out. He just hopes you still think it’s worth the effort.

“I know I messed up, but I just wanted you to see that I’m trying. And I’m getting better. And I’d like to keep getting better with you, if that’s ok.”

Bruno Bucciarati

Bruno can’t say that he didn’t see this coming. The state of your relationship was clearly less than ideal. Bruno is a man who stretches himself thin, who gives so many pieces of his time to so many people and projects, that sometimes it can feel as if you’re only getting the leftover scraps of him.

He’d always assumed that he would be able to commit more of himself to you later. In the future, when Passione was stable, when the Don didn’t need him so much, when his community was safe without him. Of course, there’s no guarantee that any of these things would happen soon or ever, and his assumption that you would be willing to wait on him indefinitely is proven wrong.

Immediately, he tries to deescalate. Explaining that all of these problems are fixable, that he loves you so much, that maybe you should both just go to bed and things will feel better when you’ve slept on it.

“Slow down, amore. Shh, I know. Things have been difficult lately, but we can work through all of this. Just trust me, all right?”

As the conversation goes on and he sees that you aren’t going to be convinced, he begins to lose his composure. Bruno is a passionate man. In his time as a Capo he’s become accustomed to being obeyed, to having his every request carried out, and to having the absolute trust of most of the people he considers important to him. For you, his most important person, to be slipping out of his grasp with no control is not something he’s prepared to deal with. At least not gracefully.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen him so frantic as he is while you’re leaving. He tries to remain composed, but he can only stay so calm when he’s watching the love of his life prepare to walk out on him. You can’t do this. He can’t let you do this. He can take care of everything, he always takes care of everything, if you’ll just let him, don’t you see?

In the aftermath, he’s devastated. He throws himself back into his work, and to most people he would appear to be functioning just fine in your absence. To his team, however, this facade is easily seen through. He’s sharp. Barbed. A little more ruthless, a lot more unfocused. Giorno all but forces him to take some time off and recollect himself, and Bruno does so begrudgingly.

Time off is just time without a distraction. It hurts (and maybe digs up some trauma from his childhood that he didn’t realize he still harbored), but it also allows him to do some necessary reevaluations. Bruno cannot live without you. In the time he’s loved you, you’ve become his reason for the work he does. You’re the reason he wants to clean up these streets, the reason he needs his city to be safe, the reason he needs to be a strong and dependable figure, always improving, always moving forward.

I don’t think it would take him long to come to this conclusion. A month, max, before he seeks you out again, ready to offer himself back up you—as much of himself as he can. He’s ready to make compromises if you are too.

Narancia Ghirga

Dear god. Brace yourself lmao

Narancia’s abandonment issues run bone-deep. From the earliest stages of his life, the people he loves the most have been leaving him in one way or another. He cannot bear to be left behind again—especially not by you.

Prepare for screaming, crying, punching walls, and desperate begging. There’s no outcome where you and Narancia have a calm, respectful conversation about this. As soon as you mention leaving him, he’s spiraling. He needs you to take it back. He needs you to change your mind. He needs you to apologize and promise to never ever even think of leaving him again. He could never imagine walking out on you. How can you do this to him?

When you leave and the panic begins to wear off, he’s furious. He’ll oscillate between hopeless despair and anger, and you’ll be on the receiving end of both. Narancia is not leaving you alone. You may have to dissolve into tears yourself, pleading with him to just give you the space you need and work on getting himself over this. He may agree—temporarily. Even if he promises to stop showing up and bothering you in person, that doesn’t mean he can stop himself from texting you when he’s drunk in the wee hours of the morning.

“Fuck, how can you do this?! I’m sorry! Whatever I did wrong, I’m sorry and I promise I can fix it! Please, can we just talk?”

With enough time, he’ll have calmed down enough to at least have a more mature conversation about what happened. And that conversation will happen. It has to. He knows you asked him to stay away, but you have to understand that he can’t ever do that. He needs you, and he’ll do anything to prove that to you, no matter how long it takes.

Leone Abbacchio

Abbacchio’s immediate reaction is to shut down. It’s a self-preserving reflex more than anything, but to you it’s just confirmation that what you’re doing is right. You can’t keep begging for what he’s obviously not willing to give: vulnerability. Inwardly Abbacchio is crumbling, but the only response he allows you to see is irritation and cold indifference. Go ahead, leave him. It’s not like you were ever going to last to begin with, and it’s not like he can’t find another fuck-buddy whenever he wants.

This is, of course, a lie. You’ve never been just a hookup to him, but the fact that he could even say something so cruel to you is just more proof that you need to remove yourself from him. By the end of the argument, you’re crying and he’s waiting for you to shut the door behind you so he can finally break out the alcohol and get plastered.

Very few people would be able to sense that there was anything wrong with him. He falls back on his old method of disguising his misery: burying it under ten masks of indifference. He puts on a convincing performance, but he knows that’s all it is. You were a light in the dark trenches of his life, bright and warm and inviting, and he snuffed you out. One more colossal failure to haunt him at night.

He finds other partners. One night stands and shallow, meaningless hookups. They’re meant to be a distraction, but they’re only half-successful. His connection with you wasn’t just about physical pleasure, it was about an emotional connection that his other partners can’t replicate. He loved you, in a way he hasn’t loved anyone else.

It will take Abbacchio a very long time to work through this. He doesn’t just have to bite back his pride to ask for reconciliation, he has to overcome his self-loathing enough to allow himself to hope. When he does come back to you, he comes as a man who’s finally begun to build himself back up into someone he believes is worthy of you.

“Hey. I know it’s been a long time, but I just wanted to check up on you. And maybe, if it’s all right…could we go somewhere and talk? There are some things I wanted to tell you.”

#so does anyone else still read for golden wind or #giorno giovanna x reader #guido mista x reader #pannacotta fugo x reader #bruno bucciarati x reader #narancia ghirga x reader #leone abbacchio x reader #jjba x reader #my works.ll #giorno.ll #mista.ll #fugo.ll #bruno.ll #narancia.ll #abbacchio.ll #jjba.ll

[jelepermets]

Today, as a treat, I am going to walk on well-tread ground and rant about how Grantaire symbolizes the People of France. And how it is this that makes this chapter so sublime.

Three chapters before this one, Hugo speaks about how Revolution does not always find a welcome audience. How, without the People. an emeute is just that. It may have loft ideals attached to it, but it must fail. If the people aren't ready, if they lock their doors and rail at the revolutionaries outside in fear and apathy and anger, then nothing can be done.

Hugo admits that this is natural. We must let humans care about their own lives and not just the future. All of this can be handled, as long as in the end Progress continues.

"A people, like a star, has the right of eclipse. And all is well, provided the light returns and the eclipse does not degenerate into night. Dawn and resurrection are synonyms. The reappearance of the light is identical with the persistence of the self." [5.1.20]

This is reflective of Grantaire's apathy, his defining trait as a nihilist. It also reflects Hugo's implication that this is not Grantaire's natural state of being. Remember:

"Besides Enjolras, Grantaire became someone again." [3.4.1]

Not only does this tie Grantaire's existence inextricably with the Revolution, but it implies that this existence is superior, is more natural than his current one.

Grantaire also has more interactions with the People than the rest of les Amis do. See when he was meant to stir up revolutionary ideals and instead went to play dominoes. Yes he failed, but he also reflects the prevailing thought. France was not ready for a revolution. Enjolras ignored this. Lofty ideas could not reconcile themselves to the reality.

‌

All this paints a very bleak picture of course. And yet, in Grantaire's death we get that undeniable hope, which makes it all so beautiful.

We, as real people reading this book, understand that Grantaire is probably still drunk. Yet Hugo impressing upon, insisting upon Grantaire's clarity is so crucial. This, at the moment of his death, is the most lucid Grantaire has been.

Another thing that strikes me, is that thought Grantaire asks permission to die with Enjolras, he seals his own death warrant before doing so, by crying out 'Vive la Republique.' He doesn't actually ask permission to join the movement.

When the People rise, they will do so spontaneously. That crucial ingredient that is missing amongst the population has been lit in Grantaire, and it is a sign of what is to come, it is hope. He's leading the pack with his singular death, and like he measured the mood beforehead, his death can be (and to me is) read as an omen of what is to come. The eclipse - in Hugo's words - will end.

Of course, asking permission to die with Enjolras is also crucial. Not only because of the poetry of them being narrative foils, but because it works as a surrogate for the people of Paris acknowledging the bravery of those who push forward towards Progress while they refuse to budge. Again, as Hugo writes:

"However that may be, even when fallen, particularly when fallen, august are the ones who, all around the world, with eyes fixed on France, struggle for the great work with the inflexible logic of the ideal; they give their life as a pure fit for progress; they accomplish the will of Providence; they perform a religious act." [5.1.20]

Through Grantaire's death, the People come out of their fear and recognize this. Not literally, but in spirit. And if not to all of us, then to Enjolras.

Because Enjolras is, of course, crucial to this reading. Speaking of Grantaire as the People when he is merely one of many characters who are the People, it's important to ask for whom is he? Because he's certainly not for Valjean. Or Marius. Or Cosette. Or Javert. Or even the National Guards or the King or perhaps not even to the audience (if you think I'm overdoing it I respect it). But he is to Enjolras.

Enjolras is stoic throughout the whole ordeal. He speaks of glory in death. He is still devoted to his mistress, Patria. And yet his ideals have been shattered. The People were not ready. The Revolution will not come. He will die bravely, but he will have failed.

But then Grantaire stands up and says he's with them and requests permission to die by Enjolras' side.

And in that moment Enjolras' convictions are justified. If someone who has been the object of scorn, who has been apathetic, who has done little at all except annoy Enjolras and fail to stir up revolutionary thought; if Grantaire can rise up and die with him, then others will too. Perhaps not now, but in the future.

Grantaire becomes someone again when he dies next to Enjolras. And someday the people will rise.

#for every barricade that falls one hundred will rise tomorrow I'm sorry I'm so emotional lol I hope y'all like this absolute sea of words #les miserables #les mis letters #enjolras #grantaire #enjoltaire #1.5.23 #bern speaks

[lewmagoo]

swathed in the purple glow | bob floyd

description: in which he desperately seeks a way to relieve the tension he carries

warnings: 18+ only, mentions of a plane crash (aftermath of the bird strike), dom/sub dynamic, sub!bob, spanking, pegging, bob has a thing for sucking on titties, crying, subspace, aftercare

pairing: bob floyd x wife!reader (i tried to keep it gn but there's a possibility that i slipped up)

wanna be added to my taglist? go here

He’d never been so fucking tense before.

His entire body was as rigid as a board, and he feared that he might snap at any moment, like a rubberband biting at exposed skin. 

He supposed that hurtling toward the ground at full speed might do that to a person. He remembered so clearly the way his body had locked up, bracing for the impact. Amazingly, he seemed to be sore from his head down to his feet. 

He was bruised in odd places. There was a cut on his arm from where a jagged rock had sliced into his flight suit when he landed. But those things weren’t nearly as uncomfortable as the tension he couldn’t seem to alleviate.

He’d considered going for a massage. But he really didn’t have time within the day to schedule such a thing, certainly not with the most high-profile mission of his career on the horizon. There was, however, one solution that could potentially ease that unbearable tension.

That solution just so happened to also share his last name. And what was that solution? Why, his wife, of course.

He knew that all he had to do was say the word and you would take care of him. The only problem was, he didn’t have much time. Between leaving early in the morning, and coming home exhausted in the evenings, he could hardly muster up the energy to ask for it. 

However, one afternoon he was released from work a little earlier than normal. Likely from Captain Mitchell feeling benevolent and giving his pilots a few extra minutes to breathe before it really got down to the nitty-gritty.

Bob knew you’d be home. He’d texted you to make sure of it. You weren’t sure why he’d asked, but you had a feeling. And sure enough, that feeling was confirmed when he practically burst through the door of your rental, eyes slightly wild, normally perfect hair mussed and curling against his sweat-glimmering forehead. 

You knew. He didn’t even have to say anything. 

“Oh, Bobby,” you cooed, and he quite literally whimpered. His knees almost buckled. You had to usher him to the nearest chair so he wouldn’t collapse. “What do you need, honeybun?”

“I-I need…I can’t…oh, I’m so sore and tense and I…”

You took his face in your hand, reaching up to lovingly brush his hair back, fully revealing his handsome face. “You need to be fucked. Is that it?”

His bottom lip quivered. The cobalt in his eyes went dark, almost navy blue in color. “Yes.”

That was all he had to say for you to know exactly what to do. You nodded, standing upright. “Okay. I’ll go get set up. Wait for me to call you upstairs, alright?”

When he nodded, you turned and made your way upstairs. The first thing you did was head into your bedroom and draw the blackout curtains, swathing the room in darkness. It was necessary to set the tone for what was about to follow.

Then, you went about lighting a few candles and setting the mood lighting, turning the room a comforting purple. Once you were satisfied, you continued on to gather everything you would need. The chest you kept under the bed, full of different types of toys. The bag you kept in the closet, containing things you would need during aftercare, such as snacks, wet wipes, water bottles, soothing lotions, and the like.

You finished by stripping down to just your bra and underwear before you finally made your way to the top of the steps and called for Bob. Once you heard the creak of the floor signifying that he was on his way up, you went back to the bedroom and perched on the edge of the bed. 

Moments later, Bob stepped into the room. He stood in the doorway, taking in the sight. You had the lowlights on, keeping the atmosphere calming, free of harsh light. He could already feel himself relaxing, a certain calmness washing over him, even more so when you beckoned him forth.

He knelt before you, and you ran your fingers through his honeyed tresses. "Do you want to talk about it, precious boy?" you asked, but Bob shook his head.

"I just want to forget about the last few days for a little while," he confessed.

You hummed in understanding, and then leaned in close, fingers resting on his jaw as you turned his face toward yours. "Undress for me then.”

You released him, and Bob made quick work of stripping from his uniform, his belly alight with anticipation. He neatly placed his uniform over the chair that sat in the corner. Then, he moved toward the bed, but he didn't sit upon it. Instead, he lowered himself, entirely naked, to his knees before you for a second time.

"Good boy," you praised, reaching down to stroke his cheek. He nuzzled into your hand, realizing how desperate for your touch he was.

All too soon, you stood, slipping away toward the chest of toys. Bob watched intently as you began rummaging through it and gathering items. He saw you get the harness for your strapon out, and he shivered at the thought of what you were going to do to him. His cock had already begun to harden.

"Get on the bed," you instructed, and he obeyed immediately, rising to take a seat on its plush surface. You joined him, carrying a black paddle in your hand along with your harness. He knew what came next, so he quickly turned over onto his stomach, without prompting.

You trailed your hand over his round ass, admiring how it looked in the dim mood lighting. "I'm going to ruin this cute little bottom tonight," you promised. Bob moaned at your words. He hoped you would.

"Now, instead of laying on your stomach, I want you on your hands and knees," you commanded further.

He complied, immediately righting himself and waiting for your next move. You brushed the paddle over his ass, dipping it down between his legs and gently trailing it over his balls, at which he took in a whimpered gasp. It made you smile.

“Before I start, what do you say if you need a break, or you can’t handle it?”

He took in a breath and said, “Palomino,” with confidence.

“We can take as many breaks as you want if you need them.”

“Yes ma’am.”

That response sent a shudder through you.

"Stay still," you commanded, and he braced himself, knowing what was coming. He gritted his teeth as the paddle came in contact with his bare skin. The swat wasn't that hard, but the smack still sent a jolt through him. He knew you were starting out easy, and it would soon grow more intense. But that was what he needed. He wanted to be rendered to tears by the end of it. It was the only way to release the tension he held.

Another whack! landed across his ass. Then another, and another. Bob counted them in his head, wondering when you'd decide to stop. He hoped you wouldn't anytime soon.

You watched him as you administered his punishment, noting the way he responded to it. He was desperate for this, you could tell.

You couldn't help but admire his skin as it began to flush pink from the welts left by the wooden paddle. However, the sounds he was making were even prettier. He gasped and whimpered each time the paddle came in contact with him, body jolting.

"What do you say for your punishment?" You asked, offering another harsh swat.

"Th-thank you, ma’am," he moaned.

"Good boy." You rested a gentle hand against his lower back as you continued, watching as he came unraveled beneath you. “What’s your color?”

“Green,” he sighed blissfully.

He was beginning to melt already. He let himself slip into a state of vulnerability that only you were given the privilege to see. Right there, before you, he'd already begun to succumb to his brewing emotions. The pain rippled through him, heating his skin like a flame. He clutched at the bed covers, writhing against them. You coaxed it all out of him, wringing him out like a damp cloth.

It happened faster than you were anticipating. Halfway through the spanking, the tears began to spill forth, and Bob collapsed against the bed, wracked with sobs. You ceased the punishment then, setting the paddle aside. Quickly, you climbed onto the bed beside him, pulling him into your arms. He buried his face against your chest, crying openly.

You ran your fingers through his soft hair, quietly soothing him. "My precious boy," you cooed, "you took that so well. I'm so proud of you."

You lay there for a long while, as Bob let it all out. He didn't have to feel ashamed of his emotions here. There was no judgment from you, none in the least. You were there to comfort him when he fell apart, and you somehow put him back together again in the process.

After a while, he slowly lifted his head, teary eyes gazing into your own. You smiled, stroking his cheek with your fingertips. "Feel better?" You asked.

He nodded. "Y-yeah," he whispered, lowering his head again, and resting it upon your soft breast. "Thank you."

"Of course, honeybun."

Again, you settled, with your hand in his hair and his head against your chest. But Bob was growing antsy, shifting in your arms. You knew why, and you could soon feel the evidence of it against your thigh. You glanced down, humming softly.

"Oh, sweet boy. That spanking made you so hard, didn't it?" You taunted, and Bob whined deep in his throat.

"Yes ma’am."

You brought your hand down between your bodies, wrapping it around his cock. He gasped at the feeling, hips jolting against you. "Poor thing, I bet you're just aching to come." You began to stroke him slowly, and he watched through hazy eyes.

But he soon grew preoccupied with something else. His hands came up to tug at your bra, and before you knew it, he'd pulled it down, exposing your breasts. He nuzzled his face against the soft flesh, searching for a form of pacification.

You pushed your chest towards him so he could have better access, and soon, his lips were wrapped around a hardened bud, suckling softly. You hummed in pleasure, pressing your body closer to his own.

You remained like that for a while, as you languidly stroked his cock, and he nursed your breast. The heat of arousal warmed you both, deepening your need for each other. Bob whimpered softly when you applied more pressure, stroking him with purpose, and he pulled his mouth away from you to speak.

"If you keep doing that 'm gonna come," he whispered.

"Oh, we can't have that now, can we? When you come tonight, it's going to be with my cock buried inside you, and only then. Do you understand me?" You spoke. Bob nodded, his eyes still glassy from the tears he'd shed.

But you weren't satisfied with just a nod. You gave a warning squeeze to his balls, and he gasped. "What do you say?"

"Yes ma’am," he hissed, and you loosened your grip.

You kissed him, and he melted into it, clearly in need of tenderness tonight. "Don't worry, sweet boy. I'll take good care of you."

You slipped away then, much to his dismay, but you soothed him, informing him that you were just getting things ready. You stood, pulling on the strapon you'd laid out. Bob watched through heavy-lidded eyes as you fastened it in place, and your eyes locked with his as you reached down, stroking the toy as if it were part of your body.

"Get into position. I want you on your back."

Bob obeyed without hesitation while you retrieved a bottle of lube. As you approached, he spread his legs for you, and your gaze fell to his cock resting heavy on his lower abdomen, swollen and pink, dribbling precum onto his skin, aching for attention. You'd give it to him, all in due time.

He seemed to have a pavlovian response to the bottle of lube being opened, and he moaned softly, watching you slick it all over the strapon before you proceeded to prepare his entrance. He shivered at the feeling of your fingers swirling around the sensitive spot before you slipped them inside, prepping him to take you.

Bob sighed softly, and he gazed at you with pleading eyes. "May I please touch myself?" He softly asked.

You considered it for a moment, and nodded. "Go ahead."

He wrapped a large, elegant hand around his cock and began to stroke, never taking his eyes off you as he watched you situate yourself between his legs. Soft hands slid up his sensitive thighs before you pushed them a little further apart. Then you began to slowly inch into him, and Bob gritted his teeth at the feeling of being stretched.

You didn't stop until you were fully seated inside him, and he hissed softly. "Good boy," you praised, "I can tell you've been keeping this cute little ass prepped for me with the plug I told you to wear."

His cheeks tinged pink. "Y-yes. I, uh…I slipped one inside to wear on the drive home. I-I took it out before I came up. Left it in the sink downstairs."

You smiled, ducking down to kiss him. "Such an obedient boy."

Bob moaned at the praise, arching his body into yours. You began slowly working your hips into him, building a steady rhythm that soon had him writhing against the bed. His body was gorgeous in the low, purple-tinged light. You admired the rise and fall of his chest as he gasped, the roll of his sharp pelvis as you pushed into him. There was something almost ethereal about him.

Through it all, he continued to touch himself, palming his hard, leaking cock as his you fucked him. In that very moment, as you offered a particularly deep thrust, you brushed against that deliciously pleasurable spot within him, and he let out a strangled cry.

"Oh! Right there!" he gasped in a high-pitched whine, shivering beneath you.

His encouragement had you quickening your movements, and soon, you'd pushed his hand out of the way, taking over pleasuring him. You reached over, grabbing the bottle of lube and pouring some into your hand before you resumed your stimulation, massaging that big, beautiful cock of his.

Bob gripped the sheets, needing something to hold on to. He didn't care how needy and desperate he got. With other sexual partners, he would have cared. But with you, he could let that submissive part of himself shine through.

He'd never been able to do that with anyone before. No one understood him enough to be able to take care of him in the way only you could. Not that he’d had many sexual partners before you. His first had been his high school girlfriend, when they were young and dumb. His second had been another girl before you. He’d never been able to relax and fully enjoy sex with her. It felt so…impersonal. 

But then, he'd met you. You were everything he’d ever dreamed of. You didn’t treat him like he was a fragile, shy wallflower. You knew that he was capable of greatness. That he was incredibly skilled, wickedly smart, and sharp as a tack.

You also knew what he needed. Knew how to bring him to his knees and make him submit. He found himself melting into a puddle at your feet, submitting to you in a way he'd never done with anyone before.

It had blossomed into so much more. You'd introduced him to the world of the dominant and submissive dynamic. Bob knew of such dynamics. He was a reader, and he read up on many things he was curious about. Including BDSM and the word surrounding it. But he’d never fully delved into it. It was so much more to it than simply being called mommy or daddy.

There was a special level of trust involved. And what Bob hadn't been expecting was the intimate bond that came with it. He had a connection with you he'd never experienced before in his life. He experienced safety and security and a fulfilling emotional intimacy that changed everything for him.

He willingly gave himself to you, and you cherished his submission. Just as you were now.

From above, you smiled down at him, softness showing in your eyes. "You're taking my cock so well, darling boy," you cooed, and he whimpered softly.

"F-feels so good." Tears were threatening to spill from his eyes again. 

Your hand around his cock stroked him with purpose, syncing with your thrusts, and you could tell that he was beginning to lose himself. He bit his lip to hold back a squeal as you went deeper, but that just wouldn't do. "You let those pretty sounds out," you commanded.

He threw his head back, wailing loudly. It was useless to mask his pleasure. He was in ecstasy, and he let it show. You were in awe, watching as he let himself succumb to it all. You pulled your hand away from his cock then, wanting to watch as it twitched with each brush against his prostate.

Bob looked at you, desperation in his eyes. "Please touch me again," he pleaded.

But you wanted him to feel a different form of pleasure. "No, I want you to squirt for me. No hands, my cock is all you need."

At that, his eyes widened, and he nearly sobbed, because he could feel the intensity creeping up on him. You leaned closer then, taking his face in your hands and kissing him deeply, breaking the kiss only to place your forehead against his own so you could watch him fall apart.

His eyes glimmered with tears of pleasure, and they soon began to trail down his cheeks. You encouraged him to let it all out, to feel the emotions, the pleasure, every sensation in that very moment.

He began to grow overwhelmed, breath quickening, chest heaving. "You're okay, Bobby," you assured him. You slipped two fingers into his mouth, and that soothed him instantly, his oral fixation satiated.

You let him suck on your fingers for a while, and he pulled back only to let out moans and whimpers. You could tell that he was nearing his end, just by the way his body responded.

He shuddered and arched off the bed to meet your thrusts, and suddenly, he pulled his mouth from your fingers, letting out a broken cry. "Oh! I-I'm gonna come!"

"It's okay, baby. Go ahead, make a mess for me."

A few more thrusts and he was done for, careening up off the mattress as he was overwhelmed by an orgasm that spread from his toes to the top of his head. Just as you'd said, he made a mess, seed spilling thick and white all over his abdomen in seemingly copious amounts.

Finally, he fell limp against the mattress, completely breathless and trembling from the aftershocks. "Good boy," you praised, "such a good boy."

Oh so slowly, you began to ease out of him, and he whined at the empty feeling once you'd pulled away completely. He was knocked out of his afterglow for a brief moment, glancing down and realizing how much of a mess he had made.

"It's all over," he whined, "s’ messy. G-gotta clean it up."

"Hush. I’ll take care of it." You kissed him gently, soothing him before you slipped away briefly to grab a towel and a pack of wipes from your aftercare bag. You warmed a couple of wipes in your hands before you gently wiped his release from his skin. You moved away only to throw the wipes in the trash.

You were with him again in an instant, and he immediately reached for you, wrapping two long arms around your waist as you settled beside him.

He rested his head against your chest again, and you placed one hand on his head, fingers threading through his hair. The other rested on his shoulder. He moved to look into your face, and you noticed his bottom lip was quivering. "Was I a good boy for you?" He asked.

"Of course you were, Bobby. You took that so well, I'm so proud of you." You kissed his forehead, and he melted into you. He'd clearly slipped into a gloriously small headspace, and you wanted to encourage it for as long as he would remain that way. 

His brow furrowed with worry for a moment, and he attempted to pull away. "I have to make you feel good," he said, but you placed a hand on his chest.

"No, what I want you to do is lay here for a little while with me. Don't worry about a thing."

Then he relaxed against you, letting out a soft sigh. You knew he wasn't in the right headspace to pleasure you. He needed to be taken care of, and would likely get overwhelmed if he tried to make you feel good.

Again, he sought out your breast, and you allowed him to have it, stroking his hair as he wrapped his lips around a hardened bud. Your chest warmed with love for him in that moment. Here was this beautiful man, so used to working a dangerous, intense job, putting his life on the line every day, reduced to a state of gentleness and docility. He needed to be taken care of, and you were there to provide that care.

It seemed that the horrible tension he’d been holding had finally melted away from his tired body. He let out a sigh of contentment, and his eyes fluttered shut, long lashes casting shadows over his cheeks.

As Bob drifted to sleep in your arms, his mouth still at your chest, you cradled him close, humming a soothing tune. He was safe here, body pressed close to yours. The harshness of the world couldn't touch him. And if it tried, you would protect him from it, because that was what you had promised him you'd do.

You thought you heard him murmur a soft “thank you,” into your chest.

"I'll always take care of you, sweet boy. Always,” you pledged. 

He’d never doubted you would.

-

taglist:

@percysaidnever @cherrycola27 @talktomegooseman @milesmillergf @damrlova @thedroneranger @canarysposts @bobfloydsbabe @lovingrobertfloyd @bradshawseresinbabe @roosterbruiser @bradshawsbitch @doxsomexofthatpilotxshit @rhettabbotts @rosesvioletshardy @sebsxphia @withahappyrefrain @endofdays56 @up-thereinthesky @chicomonks @marchingicenotes7 @thesluttyarchivist @roosters-girl @wkndwlff @xoxabs88xox @acatwriteshere @backupcasmitchell

#bob floyd x reader #bob floyd fanfiction #bob floyd smut #robert bob floyd x reader #robert floyd fanfiction

[writing-in-sin]

LawLu HC: Bedroom Preferences

As fans, we all have our own HCs and preferences for our ships. Some like fixed ships and others like switching

With this ship, I prefer LawLu instead of LuLaw or them switching. They're all interesting dynamics but for me, I prefer them as a fixed couple with Law as the top and Luffy as the bottom

Granted, I dont think they'd bother with sex all that much. Certainly when the mood strikes them and they can be downright horny and obscene when that happens but mostly? They just like spending time together, getting into stupid situations and literally be attached by the hip

Lots of cuddles though. Lots and lots of cuddles

Oh, and kisses too! Can't forget that!

As for their sex dynamic, I see Law as a top. He discovered that he prefers topping after experimenting in his youth (and maybe some dissections 🤣) that bottoming just turns him off. He rarely ever indulges in sex though before Luffy but whenever he does, he's calculated and in control

With Luffy though? He's a lot like an alpha in rut similar to those in the omegaverse. After they met, he's learned to let go and just have fun with Luffy, even letting out his sadistic side to Luffy's gleeful delight

Which is another reason why Law very much prefers topping. This is because he loves to vivisect people, using his hands (fingers especially, because c'mon! his long and very talented fingers should never be ignored here!) to pick and even tearing them apart until his partner's an absolute writhing mess. He's got a sadistic streak a mile wide after all but its something he rarely lets out completely until he got together with Luffy

They both thrive on a challenge and that very much translates into the bedroom too

As for Luffy, sex just flies over his head and most of the time, he's either disinterested, confused or even disgusted in some cases. Whenever someone tries to explain it to him (Usopp and Brook are the usual culprits), Luffy tends to have a blank look on his face. When he was on Amazon Lily, the women even tried to explain it to him too especially with Hancock being infatuated with him and all. But in the end, Luffy comes to the conclusion that he's not interested in topping and finds it a hassle

If anything, he says in 'Luffy Logic' that if he tops then he won't ever feel full even if he 'eats' his partner since he'll be the one giving and he doesnt think he'll be sated or satisfied if he tops.

But if he bottoms, then he'll get to eat and will definitely be full since he'll be filled until he's ready to burst! (cue blushing face palms by everyone around him 🤣)

In the end, Luffy was right in the assumption that he'd prefer to be the bottom when he and Law got together. As to how? Well....long story short: just a simplified sex ed by his overqualified doctor of a lover with a hands on demonstration. Sex becomes easier to understand after that for Luffy, mostly because he only ever thought of it after meeting his Torao though.

To put it simply, if its not with each other then, neither Law nor Luffy are interested in sex

So yeah, whenever the mood strikes them, you can bet people would steer clear from the crazy captain duo. Because honestly, no one wants to witness a giggling power bottom and his quiet yet sadistic power top get their freak on after all 🤣

#lawlu #lawlu headcanons #lawlu headcanon #luffy #law #torao #truffy #one piece #one piece headcanons #one piece headcanon #monkey d luffy #monkey d. luffy #trafalgar d. water law #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar one piece #trafalgar law #law x luffy

[stvrchaser]

façade

( pairing ) : ben hargreeves x reader

( about ) : inspired by s3ep8 — ben wants to know what was so special about the old ben. the reader lets him know that they’re not so different.

( warnings ) : some angst, profanity

( words ) : 1800

( note ) : i wanted to write a multichapter fic but i literally can’t commit to anything so here’s one if my fav ben scenes this season! hope you enjoy! (and i’m really sorry if it’s a little specific for an x reader. i haven’t written anything in about a year and i used to strictly write x oc fics. but appearance-wise, there aren’t any descriptions, so feel free to imagine whomever you’d like)

It’s weird to see Klaus all chummy with Reginald. They’d always had so little in common, so you wonder how messed up the timeline has to be for the two of them to suddenly form this weird bond. It seems like a lot of things are different here, but that’s not your main concern right now.

Klaus is on a mission. You’ve watched him strike up a conversation with nearly everyone in the room and, not only is it killing the mood, it’s also alarming. If there was anything you learned about him growing up, it was that he couldn’t be stopped once he’d made up his mind about something. And, so far, he seems dead set on convincing everyone to accept Old Reggie into the family.

It’s a lot easier said than done.

Your eyes follow him as he walks over to Ben, alone at a table now that Allison has abandoned him. He’s sulking, more so than usual, with a plate full of shrimp and a half-empty bottle of wine. Even from across the room, you can see his brows furrow and his bottom lip jutted out. It was a classic Ben expression, very predictable considering he was at a party. He never did like big events. It’s small similarities like that you find endearing.

You watch him and Klaus bicker back and forth for a few minutes, a sense of nostalgia setting in. They used to do this all the time. You could almost pretend that this was normal, that Ben had lived until this moment, to attend Luther’s properly-timed wedding as if you aren’t waiting for the world to end. Again. It isn’t until Ben throws a shrimp at Klaus that you decide to intervene.

“Play nice, children,” you tease.

“Y/N!” Klaus claps, like some kid exited to meet a favorite celebrity or hero. “I’m so glad you could join us!” He nudges Ben’s foot under the table, a gesture he most certainly does not appreciate.

“What are you up to?” You narrow your eyes suspiciously.

“Oh, we’re just taking a stroll down memory lane. My memories, of course. Our new buddy-roo seems pretty interested in our lovely, lovely brother. You know, his more pleasant look-alike?” Ben looks like he’s about to explode.

“Klaus, play nice,” you remind him. “We’re at a wedding.”

“Oh, you’re no fun! You’re not even drunk, Y/N!”

“Well, someone has to keep you kids in line. Can’t have you setting the Hotel on fire just as we’re sucked into some weird black hole, can I?” Klaus whines.

“Okay, okay! But if I can’t have any fun, you can deal with Bitchy-Benny over there. I don’t think I’m drunk enough to deal with him for the rest of the night.”

“Well, you can’t just leave.” You try your best not to sound panicked because you do not need to be left alone with an overly-intoxicated Ben right now.

“Eh, I’ll see what Vik is up to, maybe congratulate the newly-weds some more. Oh! Maybe Five will let me sing another duet with him!”

“No, no. Klaus, please—“

“Have fun! Don’t do anything I would do!”

“You son of a—“ Your voice trails out as Klaus continues his… well, whatever he’s doing. You force your eyes away from him, ending up face-to-face with very irritable company.

Ben glares at you through half-lidded eyes, his face held in his hands.

“What?” you snap. “Is it past your bedtime?” You look around the room, hoping for an opportunity to escape. Maybe you could clean up that table over there, or help with the music selection. Five already downed half of the champagne, maybe you should get more—

“Why do you hate me?” You turn your head back so fast you think you might have pulled something in your neck.

“Why do I… what?”

“All you idiots talk about is the other Ben and how he’s sooo much nicer. You all act like he’s the best. What about me? Why don’t you like me?”

Oh, God. This isn’t happening. He couldn’t honestly be asking you to compare them, not now. Not when you’ve managed to bottle up every nasty thing you have to say about him. This was supposed to be a fun night.

“Are you serious?”

His jaw shifts and his lips press into a frown.

Oh, it’s happening.

“Well, you’re an insufferable bastard.”

“Okay, but you like the other Ben.”

“Yeah, we love him.” He whines, unsatisfied with the answer. It’s like arguing with a child who asks too many questions.

“Why? What was so special about him?”

“He wasn’t an insufferable bastard.”

“But Klaus said he was a know-it-all.” You hum in agreement.

“A smartass.”

“A scold!”

“Worse than anyone I know.”

“Like— like a dark cloud on a perfectly sunny day.” You figure he’s quoting Klaus. The description sounds weird when he says it, like imagery shouldn’t be his preferred method of expressing things. That’s unexpected, considering the old Ben loved to draw. He could see the world differently, through the eyes of an artist, something you never really understood.

“Yeah, he was always a bit emo. I don’t think he would have ever outgrown it, honestly. I mean, look at you.”

“So what’s so good about him? All of those sound like bad things.”

“Yeah, but they looked great on him.”

“He sounds like a jackass.”

“Well, you have that in common, don’t you?”

“So how come I don’t deserve what he gets? Why is it so easy to like him but not me? If he was so insufferable, what makes him any different from me?”

He’s upset. Well, he always is. But this is different. Ben sounds vulnerable and panicked. His voice sounds hurt and it feels wrong. Asshole or not, in this universe or the next, seeing Ben fall apart is just wrong.

“That was just how he was.”

“So he’s just naturally an asshole but everyone loves him anyway! How is that fair? Dad thought I was good enough to be Number One. I’m so much better than him! Why do you still like him better than me?”

Underneath the part of him that isn’t so desperate to claw his way to the top, you find something familiar. You hear the old Ben who, as a kid, was so eager to find his place — the one who hated missions with so much passion but obeyed every order Reginald had to give. It’s heartbreaking to watch him fall apart all over again when you couldn’t even do anything to help him the first time.

That’s when you feel every bad thing you’ve ever thought about him dissipate. Reginald Hargreeves is tearing Ben apart again, and you’ll be damned if you make the same mistake twice.

“It’s because you’re not Ben.”

“I know that! Everyone’s always telling me that.”

“No, I mean you’re not… you.”

“But I am! You just don’t think I’m good enough!”

“Ben Hargreeves, get that bullshit out of your head,” you say, fuming. “Nobody decides whether you’re good enough or not. Nobody but you. I meant, you’re not yourself because you’re too busy trying to be Number One. You’ve spent your entire life doing every single thing Reginald tells you to do, and you think you have to keep it up all the time. News flash: you don’t.”

“That’s easy for you to say. You have a family.” His voice gets quieter. “The academy is all a have.” Your head leans to the side, subconsciously challenging the statement. You don’t mean to, but it’s almost an instinct to prove him wrong.

“Is it?”

“Yeah, or it was. Because now they’re dead. All that’s left is Sloane and Dad, but you stole them. You… it’s just me, now.”

“They haven’t been stolen from you. They’d just rather find people who care about them than be alone. You know, you’re welcome to do the same.”

“No, I’m not. They hate me.” He mumbles. “They didn’t even invite me to that stupid bachelor party.”

“They don’t hate you. They love you. It’s just… this isn’t you. You’ve been so busy proving yourself worthy of being Number One, you stopped being Ben. And we want the real Ben, not the one who’s constantly forcing himself to be someone he isn’t.”

“But I’m not your Ben. It wouldn’t matter if Dad was here or not because I’m never gonna be your Ben.”

“You are,” you assure him, and you believe it. “You’re always going to be my Ben.”

“We’re not the same.”

“You don’t have to be!” you say, louder than you meant. “I don’t need you to be a shitty dancer or to sing in the shower like you want to shatter the bathroom mirror.”

“Good! Because I don’t!” he shrieks, outraged. Undoubtedly offended. You laugh because you know he’s lying.

“I don’t need you wipe my tears away after a bad day or let me clean the blood off your face after a bad mission. I don’t need you to buy me souvenirs every time you sneak out with Klaus or try to play every song I like on the piano by ear.”

“He did all that?”

“Yeah. He did. But I would have loved him anyway, if he didn’t.”

“Why?” His voice is desperate, pleading.

“Because there isn’t a single thing that wouldn’t make me fall in love with Ben Hargreeves.”

The silence hangs in the air, thick with tension. Ben frowns. You think the moment will end there. Maybe he’ll be offended, or worse, maybe he wouldn’t care at all.

“I would have done the same.”

He looks into your eyes, dark irises swimming with something you’ve never seen before. Not it this Ben, at least. It melts your heart just enough to flood your body with warmth. It’s like the sun peering through dawn.

“If I was your Ben, I would have wanted to do those things, too. For you.”

You let your heart bask in the moment, afraid to let go. This was, and is, Ben Hargreeves. He was the soft patter of rain above an empty house, the whistle of the wind across an open field — the reminder that life holds more than you and the isolated path you tread.

Ben Hargreeves is everything lovely about the world, and it’s a shame he’ll only grace it for the next few hours.

It is, perhaps, the greatest loss the universe will ever know.

You choose to make up for lost time right then and there, coaxing the corners of your lips into a smile. You unravel the knots in your heart and watch his face relax, a new day on the horizon.

Ben Hargreeves will spend the day getting to know love, the world be damned if you didn’t make sure if it.

“I think I would have liked that.”

#ben hargreeves #where are all the ben oneshots #ben hargreeves x reader #tua3 #tua netflix #The Umbrella Academy

[profoundbondfanfic]

Forget the Sky

Forget the Sky by LoversAntiquities Rating: Teen  Word Count: 26k

After years of bum luck on lottery scratch offs in almost every state in the nation, Dean strikes it rich on a ticket and comes into the possession of fifteen thousand dollars—after taxes. After finishing a near-fruitless hunt with Castiel at his side, and with decades worth of exhaustion in his bones, together they come up with a plan—throw a dart at a map pinned to their motel wall, and fly to the first place it lands. Only, Dean never anticipated that traveling to Japan would involve staying so close to Castiel at all hours on unsure footing, and thousands of miles from Sam and his home, everything from simple touches to sideways glances, it all comes to a head in the middle of the night—How is he supposed to enjoy his vacation when he's sleeping next to the love of his life?

Wouldn’t we all agree that both Dean and Cas deserve a nice vacation?

Well, if you’re nodding your head along just now, I would highly recommend clicking on this fic and diving right in!

Because after winning a good amount of money Cas proposes that a trip to somewhere overseas would be just the thing they need and naturally Dean can’t say no to his angel. So after letting fate choose, they find themselves traveling to Japan and instead of monster hunting their lives suddenly consist of battling fear of flying, being proper tourists, getting to know the unfamiliar culture, sharing rooms and beds and stories and (at least on Dean’s side) doing a whole lot of pining. 

But maybe Cas was right after all and this is exactly what they needed … 

This story is certainly beautiful from start to finish! It’s an absolute delight to watch Dean and Cas grow closer and talk about more intimate things, opening up to one another in manners they haven’t before. 

Furthermore, it is rather refreshing to see a change of scenery and experience Dean reacting to a completely different setting from what he is used to. I myself have actually never been to Japan before either, but the way the author describes it all makes me almost jump onto the next plane and see it for real 😆 Dean surely is in awe of it all and Cas is more than excited to show him everything.

So yes, if you’re in the mood for a gorgeous and soft fic, you’re most definitely at the right address!

#destiel #fic rec #10k to 30k #canon verse #canon divergence #teen and up #domestic #fluff #friends to lovers #pining!dean #wing fic #author: loversantiquities #forget the sky

[lightlycareless]

✨️

Heya!

I wasn't given any specific scenario for this meme, so I decided to write a little something regarding Naoya's pov of the wedding day :> (For those that don't follow me, I mean this fic over here)

It ended up being somewhat shorter than I anticipated, but I think it's mainly because there's nothing much I wanted to show that wasn't already on the main story? It did provide some depth (from both sides), I believe.

Ah anyways, I'm sorry for taking so long to get back to you, but I hope it's to your liking!!! Depending of the reactions for this one-shot I might write more stuff like this :>

There are no major warnings for this snippet this time, although a big f you towards Naoya is suitable.

Without further ado, happy reading!!

Naoya has never been the one to succumb to his anxieties, buckle under his stress, or in other words, the nervous type. Never. It was a luxury the heir could not indulge in—always one to keep his mind cold, focused on the goal at hand, and nothing more.

But on his wedding day, that reality turned out to be a bit different.

It wasn’t that hard to pinpoint what had him feeling somewhat anxious. It’s certainly not because he wasn’t looking forward to it, if anything, this was all his mind could think of ever since the date was set.

Rather, it was the fact that it was today—

Today, the day that he gets married is finally today, and he has yet to wrap his head around that notion.

He just couldn’t believe it; it felt like it was ages ago that he was forcing negotiating with your father the details of such arrangements, just what type of benefits he’d from the union, when, and of course, the official paperwork.

Everything else, such as the decorations, food, the shrine where the ceremony would take part, and even the venue for the reception would be all under your clan’s jurisdiction, for they were formalities he really didn’t care about if he was being honest, because they were just that: formalities. Things done for the sake of tradition and appearances. If it were up to him, he’d just sign the papers and get on with it.

Nonetheless, he guesses he could find a bit of delight behind the party, the perfect opportunity to show off the fruits of his hard work and dedication, the conclusion of his long-awaited search: you, by his side, portraying the role you were always meant to have:

His wife.

Ah, but until then…

“Are you nervous?” His closest confident, and what many would consider his best man for this occasion, Ranta, asks. It was a question made out of custom, not because he believed his friend was actually nervous but… well, he’d be lying if he didn’t admit to seeing something a bit different coming from Naoya, even when he tries to hide it with a scoff and a roll of his eyes, behaving as if this were the dumbest question he’s ever heard in his life.

“What for?” Naoya asks back as he adjusts his collar—nothing short of a traditional montsuki.

“Oh—uh… well, aren’t you nervous because you’re going to see all of Y/N’s family?” Ranta attempts to strike up a conversation, lighten up the mood, but to no avail, for as stated before, Naoya couldn’t care less about the ceremony and the people attending. Those things were simply done to comply with both the Zen’in’s and the L/N’s tantrums—he just wanted to marry you and that’s it.

But if he were to voice his opinion…

“Why should I?” he retorts, adjusting the last details of his attire.  “If it were to me, they wouldn’t even be invited.”

The one that insisted the most on being there, he recalls, was your father. Something about wanting to be at his children's first wedding, or something like that. Obviously, a thing that Naoya would never understand, considering how he almost banned his own father from attending, if only he weren’t the leader of the clan, he would’ve gotten his way!

But, ah, well, he guesses he could let him see you off one last time, for Naoya doesn’t intend on letting you out of his sight once you’ve settled into the Zen’in estate.

There is one person he wanted to see the least in his wedding though, and that was not a hard guess to make: your sister, Hinata.

His father he could tolerate. Just a few drinks and he’d be out of the picture.

But Hinata… she’s the one he knows will be throwing daggers at him, if not openly denouncing this marriage, whenever possible. It’ll be awkward, to say the least, to even stand near her, as well as getting to see that ugly scowling face of hers throughout the entirety of the reception—shouldn’t the groom be able to celebrate this special day as he should?

On the other hand, there is one person he is looking forward to seeing: Satoru.

The invitation was sent essentially sent out of through Naoya’s volition, since your clan had long given up on whatever relationship they had with the Gojo’s thanks to your sister’s imprudent call.

Naoya’s perspective of that whole situation was… complex, to say the least.

He didn’t necessarily agree with your clan’s decision to join both heir’s in marriage, but at the same time, he was glad she was chosen, and not you. On the other hand, he despised Hinata’s abrupt decision on calling the engagement off, for had it gone through, the Zen’in and the Gojo’s would’ve been related one way or the other, and Satoru was one of the few people he admired enough to have that connection.

Well, only Naoya understands his own density better than anyone else, besides, there is not much purpose in ruminating on what’s done, not when he had a long day ahead.

“Are you ready?” Naoya asks Ranta, turning around to see him. Here, his friend is able to get a clear view of him.

Naoya was always one to look good whatever he wore, but this particular outfit… struck Ranta a different way. Perhaps it was the symbolism behind it that had him emotional. Even though he always knew that Naoya was set to marry one day, since it was part of the deal of him becoming heir, it still made him happy to know it was done on his own terms, with the girl he liked.

Because even though he might deny it, Ranta was able to see just how excited Naoya really was to marry you.

On the way to the shrine is when Naoya’s nerves started to get the best of him. He tried his hardest to appear composed, act as if this was just another run-of-the-mill mission he was tending to, but his fidgeting fingers, as well as shaking leg, gave it away. All that was left to do at this point was bite his nails!

Thankfully, Ranta (the only one accompanying him on the drive, alongside the chauffer) was there to ease his nerves, or… more likely try to, because no matter what he said, no matter how much he tried to tell him that everything was alright and would proceed as planned, Naoya always found something to snap back at him with.

“What if she’s not there?” Naoya would eventually say, and of all things he previously disclosed, this is the one that Ranta figured worried him the most—something he would’ve never imagined possible, yet, here they were …

“She’s going to be there” Ranta responds, placing his hand over his shoulder. It was brief, but enough for him to feel the tension radiating from Naoya. He swallows his own nerves, trying his best to not wince out of surprise, as he continues. “If anything, she’s already waiting for you, worrying that you might not be the one showing up.”

It’s an attempt of a joke, a way to laugh at his own miseries instead of succumbing to them, but his words only make his anxiety spike.

“Don’t be stupid!” he snaps. “There’s too much at stake for me to simply not show up.”

His friend supposes that must be true—knows it to be the truth. Only he and a few select members of the Zen’in clan truly acknowledged all that Naoya had to sacrifice to get this engagement going, and how much he’s going to lose if it doesn’t go as planned…

But that is something that shouldn’t worry him today, on his special day, less when he’s gone above and beyond to ensure nothing falls out of place.

The only thing Naoya should worry about is getting to the shrine, saying his vows, and enjoying the rest of his life alongside his new partner.

And of course, get past through the crowd of unwanted guests, who as soon as Naoya entered the venue, were quick to glue their eyes on him, eagerly analyzing his every movement as he made way past them.

Even through a quick glance, your soon-to-be husband was able to recognize those nearby, starting with his relatives, who were not that many as a matter of fact, just his father and some of the elders, as if to show the Zen’in clan was present and nothing else. Most of his uncles and brothers didn’t even bother to attend, which Naoya was glad they didn’t, for the last thing he wanted was them ruining today with their nonsense.

It was a surprise Ogi was able to go all together, having previously voiced uninterest in his nephew’s wedding, complained about it to his father too. He didn’t even bother to hold back his disdain given the way he scowls at him when their eyes cross. Naoya guesses he’ll have to put him in his place later.

Unfortunately for him, his distaste would only grow when catching sight of Naobito—the reception hadn’t even started and yet, the man was already drunk. He swore he could almost smell the alcoholic stench coming off him from all the way down the hallway…. But nothing he could do about that and his usual alcoholic behavior.

He was elated that none of his brothers attended. He wouldn’t know what he’d do if he found Naoaki in the crowd…

From there, found on the other side of the room, stood your family—slightly more extensive than his, but not by that much. The first thing that he notices is the absence of your father, which made him wonder if in the end he decided to skip the wedding all together, only for Ranta to explain that he wished to “walk his daughter down the aisle.” A bit… contemporary, Naoya notes, but if his lack of presence was to confirm anything, it was that he was given permission to do so, thus he lets the topic out of his mind soon after.

The second person that catches his attention is your sister, with that ugly dog face of hers, probably already cursing him given the way she stared at him. Even when dressed for the occasion, she’s as ugly as ever: it’s like dressing up a monkey! No matter what it wears, it’ll always be that, a monkey. Naoya holds back his chuckle as he continues walking, some people are just bound to be hideous no matter what they wore.

Naoya doesn’t think anything of the third person that catches his attention, your brother Ren—he doesn’t look like he’s saying nor thinking much either, so he’ll leave him at that.

His major disappointment would come, however, in the form of Gojo’s absence. He tries to console himself thinking that perhaps he decided to avoid being seen with your sister after the humiliation she put him through—God knows he’d be doing the same if he were the one previously engaged to Hinata.

Although he knew that would never happen, because his tastes were different, superior in a way—that’s why he settled for the better sister, and not someone who thought they were the greatest simply because they had a flashy technique. You were much humble and likeable in that way.

The rest that he vaguely recognized were the elders of your clan, the people he had the displeasure of conversating with when arranging everything for his short-lived engagement. They would give him a quick nod of acknowledgement, a gesture Naoya ignored in favor of continuing his way, and soon they faded into the background.

And lastly, but not least, you. Obviously absent given the theatrics of such a ceremony, but even then, he could admit that the scenery was unbearably dull without your presence, and his eagerness to see you only arises once more.

He’s frantically counting the seconds you’ll be making your way through the doors, dressed up in the traditional wedding dress prepared by his clan and everything else that will essentially let everyone else know you are his.

It’s a sentiment that has him on edge, to finally live the moment he’s been waiting for (albeit unknowingly) all his life.

Yet, no amount of anticipation could’ve prepared him for when it finally happened—the very instance you step into his view, accompanied by your father, tightly holding onto his arm as your eyes glanced from one side of the room to the other, before finally locking gazes with him.

Everything else ceased to exist that very moment. From here on out, it was just you, covered in a pristine whiteness that made you look nothing but innocent, accompanied by a subtle tint of red on your cheeks, undoubtedly out of shyness for the crowd before you, whilst seeking comfort in your father’s touch, something he’ll do from this point forward.

It's a sight that allures Naoya, makes his heart squeeze with longing, anticipation for what’s to come next—but even when you were just a few feet away from him, walking towards his direction, he still found it hard to believe this was his wedding, and you… his future wife.

But what surprised him the most after your veil was lifted, even though he already knew this, was your beauty.

You’re exactly as he remembers… if not more given the warmth he feels when seeing you again, this close, after so many years.

Such was his disbelief, that he blurted out the first thing that crossed his mind, the same one when he for the first time back during his first exchange event.

“You’re beautiful”

Your eyes widen out of surprise, speechless by his words; or perhaps something else, since they had been nothing less than a murmur, but the moment you were to finally react, the priest makes his appearance, initiating the ceremony.

Naoya doesn’t know how he was able to keep his eyes away from you as the priest went on, trying his hardest to act as if he truly cared about anything else but you, and the moment he’ll seal the deal…

And when it finally did, when he was allowed to kiss you for the first time, he swore his heart almost jumped out of his chest. His hands were trembling a bit, which he hoped no one saw, as he turned around to see you.

Naoya couldn’t do anything else but stare at you for a few seconds, eyes glancing from your nervous ones, to your pink lips, and to your eyes yet back again… all tempting images that just pushed him over the edge.

Perhaps it was his nerves, given he had to do that in front of everyone, or his own eagerness for how close he was to realize one of his biggest desires, that Naoya ends up swiftly smashing his lips against yours, giving you little to no time to react outside of a whimper, before he was lightly sucking on your lip, as if asking for permission to enter, to which you dubiously obliged.

It was a (very) awkward, seemingly eternal moment for those that saw it, if not infuriating for your family members as your now-husband would later find out, but for Naoya it was nothing but fleetingly sweet—a moment that he barely managed to grasp before he was pushed by the priest to continue on with the ceremony.

He didn’t want to pull away from you, didn’t way to move away from your presence, less when he was completely, utterly captivated by the warmth of your skin against his, your soft lips hesitantly moving alongside his, and the way your eyes look at him, somewhat hazed by his gesture…  

But he moves forward when the crowd begins to cheer once formally introduced as husband and wife—a roaring sound that manages to divert his attention from you to the recognition he was getting from all those that attended.

He couldn’t help but grin with satisfaction, because from this day forward, Naoya is officially your husband—and you, his.

Truly, all the shady things he had done, all the sacrifices he had to make and the hard work he put in for this very moment, had been worth it in the end.

It was the beginning of the rest of his life, and Naoya couldn’t wait to share it with you.

Perhaps it was the continuous gratifying acknowledgement of his decision to marry you, or maybe the fact that everyone started calling you Mrs. Zen’in soon afterwards, telling you what a good catch you found in him, that the subsequent celebration slowly began to grow on Naoya.

Sure, he still disliked having to entertain his guest like some kind of puppet, put on the façade that he cared if they were having a good time or not, when all he wanted was to run away with you and enjoy his married life.

But now he slowly began to like the idea of staying around for a bit, bask in the attention, even if he’s to humiliate himself first…

The first thing that your family and his essentially forced him to do was take pictures. Pose with each of the guests, put up a smile, and repeat that until everyone got their fare share of “memories”.  Annoying, indeed, but at least you were there accompanying him.

From there, he’d have to strike up conversations with said guests. Naoya found it harder to fulfill that aspect, given he wasn’t one anyone would call a social butterfly, while you… well, you did your best to blend in and not appear as a total outcast—not more than you were already feeling anyways.

“Did you know him prior to the wedding?” One would ask you, someone neither you nor your husband recognized. Well, some of the guests were only there because of the positions they held in the jujutsu community, not because they were relatives or friends…

“Oh, um…” you’d stammer, pressing your lips before nodding. “Once. During my school’s exchange event.”

The other person seems to be surprised by your answer, expecting perhaps your union to be completely done in the dark, as most arranged marriages were. And in many ways… it was. This had come out of the blue for you, completely unexpected for you didn’t think your meeting with him was anything memorable.

Apparently not to Naoya, of course, whose mind stuck there, obsessed with seeing you again, eventually thinking the best path to take was to marry you—

The next thing to do after everyone got talked into boredom, was serving the food of course—perhaps the only moment Naoya would have with you, without being disturbed, throughout the whole ceremony. At least until it was time to cut the cake, where once again he found himself believing that maybe having this party wasn’t that great of an idea, especially when he was forced yet again to pose and smile for a picture.

“I don’t want to do this” he openly states as he makes way to the cake, with you beside him. You remain silent, awkwardly standing there as if waiting for instructions, which comes soon after once the photographer your family hired (the elders, of course—your father didn’t want any pictures of this day) sees the perfect shot.

“Get closer!” he’d instruct, looking through the lenses as he motions the couple just where he wanted them. “Turn around towards me a bit—and grab the knife, the two!”

Naoya groans as he reaches over to the knife, tightly grasping the handle, and more than ready to stab the cake—but when he sees your hand loom over his, hesitantly, briefly retracting as if unsure you even had permission to touch him, his anger stop for a quick second, eyes soon darting to yours.

You stare at him, dumbfounded by his quick reaction and leaving you speechless once again— but you don’t succumb to that awkwardness, not when you realize it’s the second time you’ve behaved in such way, and it could be misinterpreted as rude.

So instead, you decide to give him a tight smile, a gesture to symbolize empathy, as well as to ease the tension between the two—you are his wife, after all, wouldn’t it be appropriate for you to get along with him?

An innocent act that kicks Naoya’s heart up a notch, and his eagerness for that night’s activities even higher.

Naoya immediately takes hold of your hand, gently helping you take a better grip of the knife before returning your gesture with a smile of his own.

“Careful” he murmurs against your ear as he moves closer to you, moving the knife to where he thought better. “I wouldn’t want my wife cutting herself.”

You tense up, cheeks red from his closeness, his seeming care, and the fact that he referred to you as his wife.

It’ll take you a while to get used to that title, you assume, but… it does have a nice ring to it. Specially if it came from a man as alluring as Naoya.

You’d now have to admit that, regardless of what your family had said, you were somewhat looking forward to this marriage. It had been the first time anyone had ever considered you in such prospects, and from someone as handsome and influential as he was.

The thought of it makes your cheeks grow even warmer, instinctively leaning into Naoya’s touch as the horizon of your future alongside him unveils itself in your mind, briefly distracting you from the present before your husband asks you to look back to the camera.

“Smile, princess” he says, and you do, holding his hand tighter.

It’s another one of those fleeting instances, meant to be shared just between the two, but the man seeking to preserve the best moments from the wedding couldn’t care less about that, not when the sight before him was genuine.

“That’s perfect!” the photographer says, adjusting his lenses “Hold it—!”

And then—snap! He takes the picture.

It would be the only picture where Naoya appears smiling, and the only one he kept too.

Truly, all that he had done was worth it in the end.

All the time he had to wait, all the sacrifices, all the rejections and disappointments… it had all been worth it.

He couldn’t wait to live out the rest of his life with you as his wife, and he, your husband. To create a home with you, where he’d be welcomed, cherished, loved, with the same gentleness he’d seen you give to others before. Kindness that only belonged to him now.

Naoya felt absolutely blessed to have found the perfect partner in you before anyone else could’ve taken you away.

You simply arrived at the right time.

His heart now knows that from this point forward, it’ll be nothing but smooth sailing.

yeah, stfu naoya. lol

#ask #ask series: first it hurts— #series side stories: first it hurts— #naoya zenin #naoya zen'in #naoya x reader #naoya zenin x reader #naoya zenin x you #jjk naoya #naoya zen'in x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x you

[masezace]

little off topic for my blog, but i started watching a new show since a friend mentioned it was good and i'd heard positive things about it, so i just wanted to talk about it a little bit (probably never again after this since this isn't a fandom blog, but it's the only one i have rn so idc it's going here)

the show is Jurassic World Camp Cretaceous, and just going on looks alone, despite my love for dinosaurs and the Jurassic Park franchise i never would have considered it. it appears to be very much for kids, and as i'm in my late twenties now i'm not particularly interested in especially kiddy media. however a friend my age enjoyed it and mentioned it has a canon lgbtq+ couple in it among the main characters, so of course i just had to watch it. i had already been hearing that despite its initial appearance and premise, it was surprisingly good for a kids' show, so i had already been curious, but i was even more keen after knowing there were queer characters, and not even the adults, the kids themselves (in a kid's show?!! what a time to be alive), so i finally sat down and watched it.

[spoiler warning, both minor and major, for the rest of this post btw, so continue reading at your own risk if you haven't seen it yet/are still watching]

the show overall

okay so firstly, i am coming at all of this from the perspective of a writer, so my observations are from a technical standpoint more so than just as a fan of the show. and honestly, it really is a well-written show as a whole. is it geared towards kids? definitely. there are plenty of jokes/gags in it that just don't appeal to me as an adult, but beyond that, there was plenty to appreciate as an adult.

the writing is actually phenomenal? there were several points in the series where i just sat back and mulled over the way a scene went, what the thought process behind writing it was like, how well it was executed, and how important it was to the characters and overall plot.

the suspense is spot on, nothing gets dragged out too long, and i will admit there have been a few scenes throughout that actually got me; i jumped! it's actually scarier than i expected a kid show to be, but i'm so glad they went where they did because it really elevated the experience.

the pacing overall is very good, adequately engaging for kids' short attention spans (and us adhd adults 🥲) but not too short either to a point where things felt abrupt or unfinished. plot arcs are well developed and tied up nicely. also, as a bit of a dinosaur nerd, the array of dinosaurs in the show is super broad and satisfying! very fun stuff.

character element

imo the real gem of this show is the character development. honestly it's just *chefs kiss*

the characters grow and change so much and so realistically over the course of the show, it's honestly so much better and more satisfying than the character growth in most adult fiction/media recently.

the growth in ben (who btw was def my favorite character by the end of s1) and kenji in particular were my favorites and, in my personal opinion, the most interesting. the way ben started out anxious, cowardly, and rule abiding to a fault, then grew into a brave, confident, adventurous little pyromaniac gremlin, then had that stint later in the series where he regressed a bit-questioning himself-until eventually ultimately striking a great balance and really coming into himself was just... peak character writing.

kenji started out overconfident, lazy, and overly concerned with money/status. but that arrogant overconfidence and laziness slowly turned into responsibility, and a desire to protect his found family, and the realization that it's the people in your life that really matter most.

honestly what i mentioned only scratches the surface in terms of those two characters, there's certainly more that can be said about them (as well as all the others) but i'm not really in the mood for a deep dive character analysis atm. just trust me tho when i say these characters are so well done and each one of them have arcs that are super satisfying to watch play out.

queer representation

and as for the queer couple? yasmina and sammy are PERFECT. it was so beautiful watching their relationship grow from one-sided to mutual friendship, to loyal devotion, then to love. they were set up incredibly well and incredibly naturally. i have like, no complaints when it comes to them. i don't even know if there's anything i can say that would add to things, they were just a really awesome couple to watch become canon, they're the beautiful and painfully needed representation we all beg for in tv and movies.

shipping, chemistry, and intent

but oh goodness... probably my only real complaint about the entire show would be how benji (ben x kenji) and kenji x brooklyn (kenlyn? brookji? idk and idrc) were handled. because for all that this show did SO much beautifully right, they really screwed the pooch here, sadly.

i'm gonna start by saying that the writing in this show, as with most, is deliberate. what i mean by this is that despite having no clue who it would be because my friend thankfully did not even spoil me as far as the genders of the queer couple, i clocked yas and sammy as the would-be queer couple as early as season one (actually it was between them and benji, but more on that later). i could already see the chemistry, because it was deliberately written in.

shipping is subjective. anyone can ship any character, and in most cases it's pretty easy to see how there could be (romantic) chemistry between fan pairings based on their personalities, their arcs, etc. and that's okay! ships don't even have to have any canon support to be valid, because shipping is for the fandom, and it's for fun (i have a few rarepairs and crack ships across different media that i just love).

but onscreen/written romantic chemistry is a lot less subjective (to clarify, it is subjective whether or not the chemistry is good, but it's not subjective about whether or not it exists). there are literally scenes written with the sole purpose of building the romantic tension and/or chemistry between planned couples (some of which even have absolutely zero plot relevance, which usually is not advised tbh, and most of which are the cliches/tropes you see in literally any romance ever written, some are just disguised a little better than others. but make no mistake, it's all the same set of cliches. there is nothing new under the sun), as well as intentional, key moments within scenes that have other purposes. they are essential to establish romantic pairings.

and typically, the foundations for these couples are laid VERY early on. always within the first or second season (well, at least they are when the writer actually knows what they're doing and has at least a rough plan/outline for the entire series & characters. this is usually a large part of what separates the good chemistry from the poor chemistry. an author who knows who the couples are going to be and has a plan from the beginning to build them up is going to be more successful in creating a believable relationship with good chemistry. one who does not plan, or makes last minute plans will almost certainly fail, and the couple is just going to suck). when the set of characters you're working with are going to stay the same for most or all of the story, you start immediately.

i don't mean to toot my own horn, because i think it's because i'm a writer so i just pick up on narrative patterns very easily, and pretty much always clock the planned couples within the first few episodes of any series, and by the end i am right like 9 times out of 10.

that being said, do you know whose deliberately written chemistry i also clocked in jwcc? ben and kenji's.

kenji and... brooklyn?

no offense to people who like/enjoy kenji and brooklyn, you are free to love them, but the way their romance was written is... quite possibly the weakest point of the show. it felt like they were just trying to appease the upsetto heteros in charge, because there was definitely another het pairing that had a lot more potential than kenji and brooklyn (hello darius x brooklyn aka darilyn, you would have actually made sense because your relationship had amazing buildup and multiple standout scenes from s1 on. dgmw, i love that we got a m/f strong, supportive, purely platonic friendship out of them, i live for those and we really need more of them. but we could have had that with kenji and brooklyn, or darius and sammy, or ben and yas, literally any other pair instead).

kenji and brooklyn as a couple came out of absolutely nowhere. i honestly think they decided to shove them together last minute, and had no actual plan for them until they were working on s4. because their development barely started at the VERY end of s3 (the abruptness of him caring about her being held hostage so much more than literally anyone else in their group despite them having like zero buildup to that point gave me whiplash), but honestly didn't really even become "meaningful" development until s4, over halfway through the series. the two spend the first 3 seasons basically not particularly gaf about each other individually, only as part of the whole group and on an equal level with everyone else. they otherwise have no deliberate narrative foundation. it just starts in s4 with no prior hinting. which makes their development rocky and difficult to believe. the funny thing is their characters literally have dialogue (in s4) trying to draw comparisons/parallels between them to say that they especially have a lot in common and like??? no? they really don't? not any more so than any other two kids in the group. their relationship just, really falls flat.

it was disappointing to see it take such a massive spotlight in the series for almost all of seasons 4 and 5, overshadowing the friendships that have been the focus of the show and should have remained so, to the point where at times it just felt like i was watching some stereotypical het highschool romance. genuinely, it made s4 & 5 more of a drag to get through. yasammy and ben and yas' growing bond (which by the way was so sweet, it had the strongest queer solidarity vibes good lord, i sure wonder why yas chose ben out of everyone to come out to first, hmmm) were some of the few things that kept me invested, otherwise i would have dropped it if it had leaned much farther into becoming the kenlyn show than it already was. especially when it was that pair so much of the focus was given to, even though we had so readily and perfectly available, the pair that could have, should have been: benji. which finally brings me to:

ben and kenji

benji's foundation was laid in s1. their interactions, the situations they found themselves in, were deliberate (on the writers' part). i'm even gonna go out on a limb here and say the pairings were fully established in s1e3, even with parallels between yasammy and benji (sammy clinging to yas and ben clinging to kenji throughout the episode), and darilyn gets the beginning of their development too.

even though they bicker a lot in the beginning, they clearly care about each other? kenji protects/helps ben multiple times, and there are definitely some looks ben gives kenji at times. at the end of s1, the one who seems the most deeply effected over ben's "death," other than darius (understandably since he's the one who failed to save him), was kenji! immediately after it happens, we get two close up shots, darius and brooklyn then yasmina and sammy. after which, we go back to the whole group with kenji in center frame, the focus is intentionally on him. it is only kenji who drops to his knees at the loss, and then we get a close up of just kenji. he was saved for last, and he was alone in frame (tbf bumpy was in frame too, but i'm talking humans here), which implies his feelings are especially important in this moment. that is the reason for solo close ups.

after ben's "death," kenji takes to always wearing ben's fanny pack, and up until bumpy--who ben cares VERY much about--got separated from them, kenji was the one who (however briefly) took over her care, ensuring she got off the monorail with them, and he's extremely distraught, more than pretty much all of them, when they can't find her, and he's last to leave when they decide to accept that ben's gone. even when they do leave, he's distant and distracted and his mind is clearly still on ben.

other than darius, kenji is the only one (if i'm remembering correctly) to mention ben/say his name after they lost him, upset because he was actually trying not to think about him. he has clearly thought about ben, probably a lot, because it's hard not to be reminded constantly when you wear something that belonged to a deceased loved one. and frankly, he appears to be the only one who dwells on him that much.

when ben reappears alive (which btw he found the group again because of kenji's butter knife, hello), the frames literally purposely focus on kenji's reaction. he's the one in the foreground every time they show him and brooklyn in that scene. he is the first one to say ben's name, the first one to go to him and hug him, and the scene takes special care to highlight kenji's strong emotions at ben's reappearance, lingering on his teary face as the focus for a bit even after brooklyn enters the frame to hug ben (because she is not at all an important element in the scene at that moment). just like when ben "died," the way this scene is written and shot HEAVILY suggests that ben holds significant importance to kenji, specifically. because again, the focus here is on kenji and ben almost exclusively, with brooklyn as only an afterthought lol. and quite frankly literally everyone else's reaction to him being alive was pretty lackluster compared to the special attention they gave to kenji on this.

and then in s3 we have the infamous hat scene, where darius and ben are in the limo and ben sees and mentions kenji's sailor hat, looking sad and sounding like... longing?? then directly after we switch to kenji realizing he forgot his hat?? the scene has no real significance tbh other than to draw a connection between ben and kenji. like, it acts as a transition to switch to the pov of the group on the boat, but it was entirely unnecessary? why not just have darius say something about the others and then show them on the boat? if there were no special relationship between ben and kenji, it would have made far more sense if they really wanted it to be ben to say something, that he sees the hat, and sadly says something along the lines of "i hope the others are okay/doing better than we are right now/etc" which implies that the hat made him think of everyone, their whole group. rather than what we got... which very much implies that he was mostly just thinking about kenji 💀 and then kenji thinking about the hat at the same time ben's looking at it and thinking of kenji. like, this is.... a very blatant connection being made by the writing/directing here.

all of that. so many deliberate connections made between ben and kenji, they had a very solid foundation laid for a romance to develop, and by all intents and purposes one already WAS developing according to the show's own subtext. which was why up until s4 obliterated the idea, i was positive the queer couple in the show was either going to be yasammy or benji. it was extremely obvious imo. but as soon we started getting the typical, loud, cliche "we are going to pair off these characters" scenes for kenji and brooklyn, i knew we were getting yasammy and not benji (to be clear, i'm not at all upset about yasammy, they're beautiful and i love how their relationship was done, i wouldn't have had it end any other way for them. but i do personally prefer benji, i just like their personalities and dynamic more. and i feel they had so much potential that got wasted to make way for a far less interesting pairing between kenji and brooklyn. why can't we have 2 queer couples, huh? and if we really needed a minimum of one hetero pairing to appease whoever needed appeasing, darilyn was right there).

but then??? their like entire bond just gets dropped (honestly ben himself gets pretty heavily sidelined for almost all of the last two seasons, which is criminal imo). mostly so that a rushed kenji x brooklyn can be established. like there are still a few small moments here and there in early s4, and one episode in s5 (ep 10), but from early s4 till pretty much the end of the series we hardly see them have any meaningful conversations or interactions, meanwhile literally every other combo in the group does.

it's so weird? why build up benji so deliberately over the course of multiple seasons just to like, fully discard it for a pairing with far less chemistry, even after the chemistry-building scenes they shared, some of which literally had no other purpose than to affirm their connection? even though they were very sparse, the moments benji had were just so blatant (kenji leaps into the rock crevice right onto the back of a saber tooth to save ben?!!?? like he literally was just willing to exchange his life for him like that?? he basically says that he wasn't really thinking, he just did it. so he moved out of what, emotional instinct, that's what we're meant to intuit from that series of events? implying that he specifically has strong emotion and doesn't think things through when it comes to ben? because he doesn't do that kinda stuff for any of the others in the group! even better, this parallels when sammy jumped on the nothosaurus to save yasmina. and then the way benji look at each other after it's over??? hello??? and then how kenji pulls both brooklyn and ben in for that hug a couple minutes later... side eyeing the writers for that choice. they knew what they were doing there and they were evil for it). i just can't see any reason to have dropped them like they were, after all the development they shared for 3 seasons. confounding. biggest disappointment of the series.

i know this probably reads to some as just "wahh, my ship didn't become canon" nonsense. but that's not why i'm bugged. this wasn't just a ship i liked and wanted canon despite no actual narrative support, as most ships tend to be. this ship did have narrative support. there was intent behind many of their scenes together, lingering looks and little things that matter narratively and are always used to signify a stronger/special connection. and it led nowhere, for no good reason. that bothers me. writing that implies and promises something, but never delivers on it. like a person who never finishes their sentences (think Dr McPhee from Night at the Museum). ultimately it's not a HUGE deal or anything, at the end of the day it's just a ship and just a kids' show. but as a writer, it's just irritating to see something like that be done. what can i say 🤷

conclusion

even despite the wasted potential between certain pairings, and even though i do think the first three seasons were superior to the last two, overall i really enjoyed the show, and for what it was, it was really well-made. the overarching focus was of course on found family and friendship before anything else, which i absolutely love, and it was masterfully done. out of 6 kids, all of them had at least one or two meaningful bonding moments one-on-one with another in the group, so every possible combination had their moment to build strong, believable friendships with each other. i'm just so surprised by how good it was as a whole honestly, good enough to binge over the course of a week. i will happily recommend jwcc to anyone willing to give it a watch regardless of age, because i definitely think there's no age limit for a good story, no matter the medium it's told in. :)

#jwcc #jurassic world camp cretaceous #benji jwcc #benji #yasammy #yasammy jwcc #i would say that there's prob an age minimum tho... it's a bit scary so depending on the kid i wouldn't rec it to under 10 years #this is a long post #omg so long i'm sorry #i just have a lot to say #gotta shout into the void #it just be like that sometimes #fair warning this post is literally just me praising the show in the first half n then going absolutely off about benji in the second half #review #tv show review #as always with stuff like this that has any mention of ships it is bound to ruffle some feathers #so let me postface this with the reminder that this is all just MY OPINION #you are free to disagree but i'd rather you don't share your disagreements on my post via reblog/notes #feel free to write up your own show/ship review if you feel so strongly #otherwise if you dislike anything i've said you can just scroll past or block me <3

[dantesunbreaker]

Feral Mouse

Papa Emeritus IV x GN!Reader

Just a quick little drabble based on how I was feeling yesterday. I was very ready to bite any hands that got too close.

Something isn’t right when Papa Emeritus IV opens the door to his chambers, only to be met with a dark room full of silence. Often you would return from your duties far earlier than him, always there to greet him with a warm hug and kiss before settling in for a relaxing evening. But you are nowhere in sight. What he does see however, is a large mass of blankets and pillows stretching over a large section of the bedroom.

“Caro?” Calling out seems to elicit no response, so Copia creeps closer until he stands at the edge of the mountain.

Copia reaches a blind hand into the cavern of blankets, hoping to meet the solid warmth of your body against his palm. But instead he is met with a sharp pain in his fingers.

"Cazzo! What the...?" Yanking back, Copia looks down at his hand to see the clear imprint of teeth along his middle and index finger. 

Something stirs within the blankets, shuffling around and causing layers of fabric to shift and cascade to the floor. For a moment Copia worries that perhaps some wild creature has managed to somehow slip into his quarters unnoticed. But then a pair of twin eyes emerge from the shadows within the mound of plush fabric. Very human and very familiar eyes.

"Amore?" There is a flicker of recognition. Holding his hand close to his chest, out of your reach, Copia crouches until your eyes are level. "Amore, you bit me,” he dares a look of disbelief at the mentioned wound before looking back at you. “What is going on with you?"

A low growling rumble comes from the blanket cave, all the warning that Copia gets before a hand strikes. Fingers close around his wrist and pull until Copia loses balance. With a surprised yelp, he tumbles onto his backside, quickly dragged into the dark depths. 

It takes a moment for Copia's eyes to adjust to the dim light, but when he does, it is a surprise to him how spacious the nest of blankets actually seems. Certainly not enough to stand, but three or four people could easily sit inside without touching. For a moment, Copia forgets your presence, too caught up in admiring your craftsmanship. But the soft grumbles from across him draws back his attention. 

Any other situation, Copia would find the way you're on your hands and knees dressed in your most comfortable clothes adorable. But with your hair wild, sticking up in every direction, and the visible tension in your shoulders, all he can feel is concern. 

"Hey, come to Papa," his voice is soft and soothing, the way you would speak to a spooked animal. Copia opens his arms, staying low to the ground and waits for you to make the first move. "Come tell Papa what is wrong so he may fix it, eh?"

Within seconds you are perched in Copia's lap, hands clutching at the front of his shirt as you forcefully nuzzle your face into his neck. Trying both to absorb his scent and leave yours on him. Gentle hands rub whatever parts of your body they can reach, trying to work the tension out of your body. It seems to help as you begin to practically purr in Copia's arms. 

"I'm grumpy," you finally mutter, tone curt and very much portraying displeasure. Not with Copia of course, but at the world itself. 

"Hmm, would you care to tell me what caused this mood?" Copia leans into you, giving you as much physical connection as he is able. 

"No." Shifting, you move to wrap your arms and legs around Copia's torso, clinging to him. "I growled at Sister Imperator.”

Copia can’t help the thunderous laughter that erupts at the thought of you growling at Sister, one of the high ranking members of the clergy. You mewl at the vibration of Copia’s chest, somehow seeming to pull him even closer. A hand settles in your hair, blunt nails lightly scratching your scalp in a reassuring manner.

“I’m sure there are many siblings that would love to do the same,” Copia strokes the space between your shoulder blades, “they just aren’t as brave enough to do it like you.”

He can feel your head nod in agreement against his shoulder where you have nestled. A startled gasp leaves him when he feels your teeth clamp down on his shoulder, though not a harsh bite like before. No, instead you simply hold him there for a few minutes before releasing and rubbing your nose against the same spot.

“If I didn’t know any better, I think I would have mistaken you for one of the ghouls amore mio,” with tone light and teasing, Copia presses a chaste kiss to your temple. You give a happy chirp, glancing up at him while baring your teeth in an adorable manner. “Someone has been spending a bit too much time with Swiss.”

That earns Copia a soft giggle, and he knows that he is breaking through your sour mood. Whatever it takes, he will have you happy and smiling by the end of the day.

“I love you,” Copia gives more kisses, moving to hold you better in his lap and beginning to gently rock you. “My sweet, feral topolino.”

#papa emeritus iv #papa emeritus x reader #papa emeritus iv x reader #cardinal copia #cardinal copia x reader #copia x reader #ghost fanfiction #papa emeritus fanfiction

[gatheringbones]

[“I managed to get out in three months. While out on parole for Christmas, I begged my father not to send me back. In another of our few tender moments, he caved. And he was the one who went to collect my stuff from this place. He returned so shaken he couldn’t talk about it beyond mumbled regrets. He’d never actually seen the place. These mumblings marked a third tender moment.

I had a reprieve, but not for long. I still hadn’t learned my lesson. The cure hadn’t worked. And I was still under the care of this same shrink, which meant still seeing Beth. I made the same gaff, telling Beth about yet another woman, and again she reported back. My father, having been informed, made his last strategic strike. This time he told the shrink that his sister was manic-depressive, and perhaps I was, too. Eureka, they’d solved it, solved me.

Once more I was called into the shrink’s office. I listened to a masterful pitch for Lithium. He made it sound like a drug addict’s dream. That it would allow me to manipulate my mood at will. Next he described me as a Virginia Woolf type time bomb. I’d certainly kill myself by forty. Now I was some kind of suicidal genius. But through the miracle of Lithium I could be saved. The flattery worked, the pitch worked. I fell for it hook, line, and sinker. Took another script to the drug store, this time believing in magic.

I didn’t know you needed a blood test for dosage, but presumably the shrink did. For the next ten days I didn’t eat or sleep. No need to, this stuff made me high as a kite. Unlike most actual manic-depressives, I had no experience with mania. And while I’d done speed, of course, and coke, downers were always more my thing. I’d never gone so hyped for so long. You could say my judgment was a bit impaired. This set the stage for the last act.

The shrink suggested I sign myself into a hospital, just for a couple of weeks to stabilize the dosage. Even impaired, I didn’t immediately bite. So Beth was brought in for bait. Unlike me, she’d learned her lesson, was on board this time, though I didn’t know it yet. She coaxed me and I began to waver. I don’t remember why, but I was at my brother’s house when I called her. I do remember I was alone, staring into his kitchen, which had this amazing pile-up of empty Dewars bottles. The same scotch my parents drank by the gallon. The sight of all those bottles seemed to be what made me call.

It was night, a Friday, I think. I know Reagan had just been elected to his first term. Time had passed. I’d later joke it was his election that tipped me over. Beth came and picked me up. Took me to this place. I signed myself in. My parents didn’t even know. The weekend meant two more days of no sleep or food, even so I realized I’d made a mistake, a big one—been duped.

My father bailed me out, took me home. That might have been that, but it wasn’t. I was still on the stuff—the lithium. By now it’d turned me into some punk girl version of Travis Bickle. For reasons I don’t recollect, I was wearing army fatigues, combat boots, and a lot of those heavy silver biker rings. My mother was in the kitchen cooking dinner. My father and I were watching the news. As my kind of luck would have it, Cambodia, perhaps then still Democratic Kampuchea, was news that night—the Khmer Rouge, Pal Pot, the killing fields—they were dredging it all up again, showing old footage.

That’s all it took. The fuse was lit. The only question now was who’d explode first—me or Dad. I think it might’ve been simultaneous combustion. But he was the one on his feet first. When I hit him, I believed it was self-defense. If I hadn’t been wearing the damn rings, I might not have done damage.

My mother tried to break it up—a first. Somehow she and I wound up on the stairs. But how she fell, honestly I don’t know. I only know I didn’t intend to hurt her. I think I was just trying to get her attention. She wasn’t badly hurt, not physically. But she sat at the foot of those stairs yelling she never wanted me inside their house again. Meanwhile my father was on the phone to the cops—or rather a cop. A friend/employee of his. This guy drove me back to the snake pit. This time they took my jewelry, hell, they took everything. This time they doped me to the gills. This time it was progress when I finally got out of a tiny cell to roam a locked ward with women who’d had lobotomies, and I assure you I’m not exaggerating.

I’ll spare you the gorier details. Things you’d expect but might not believe. After all, nobody believed Martha Mitchell either, at least not until it was way too late to do her any good. So let’s just say that given the condition of the other inhabitants, I was a real find for the night nurse. She made a bundle pimping me to the orderlies. I did eventually engineer my release, aided and abetted by a young woman working in occupational therapy. She was the only person who knew or rather cared that I didn’t belong there. She coached me.

For added insurance I managed to get a guy I knew to come pose as my boyfriend. We went so far as to announce our engagement, and I was released shortly after. At the time I believed the engagement stunt was what cinched it. Now I assume it had less to do with the insurance I’d arranged than with my parents’ Blue Cross, which no doubt had been bilked to the max.

The doctor who released me was the same one who’d been there the night I’d signed myself in. I hadn’t seen him or any doctor since, save the one time he’d called on me to act as playmate for a wealthy woman friend of his who was there taking a much-needed rest from the jet-set. If my whole time there had been like that one week with her—good booze, good drugs, good food, and good sex—I might never have left. But it wasn’t. It was a beautiful fluke amidst grueling ugliness.

As this guy released me, he laughed, even gloated about the amount of Thorazine he’d managed to pump into me. I’d remember the number. Again, I learned from a book that this dose was more than double what was considered safe for an actual psychotic. I got the point. I resolved never again to display an emotion, never again to state an opinion, and never again to fall in love with a woman.

Needless to say, I got away from my family. But I still kept those resolutions for nearly two years. The first two fell away first. The last one was lost to a woman I’ll call Ingrid. And while falling for Ingrid would begin yet another sordid story, it’s the end of this one.”]

heather lewis, from richard nixon and me, from a woman like that: lesbian and bisexual writers tell their coming out stories, 2000

#Heather Lewis #lesbian literature #cw rape #cw abuse #history stuff #horror! horror! horror!

[kerubimcrepin]

Live-Read: "Dofus Manga" - part 3

+ A big Atcham Analysis

I'll only briefly point out that he has an ear ring, or that Ancestral Z draws him with hair tufts for cuteness' sake. We have to keep moving towards the point where I analyse him.

Atcham seems to be quite famous, — to the point Dodge is chastised for not knowing him, despite being an ecaflip, — and one of his nicknames is "the killer of killers". Very, very interesting...

"You're the one who made a huge mistake, Katar, by stealing the sword I had taken to repair... It belonged to my family for generations."

Obsessed with all the implications this has. You have no idea just how obsessed I am. To Atcham, swords aren't just weapons, — they're objects of sentimental value, a way to protect himself, a tool.

And it turns out that Katar threw his, and I quote Katar, "piece of shit sword" to the moon.

We've discussed Atcham and Kerubim's dead family, lack of support system, and young age when they lost everything plenty here. Same for their irrational hatred for one another.

No need to tell you how awful this must feel for him. Imagine someone throwing your dead father's picture into the river. For fun.

"And the smith was a good friend of mine." Man :(

(He's either not that good at telling that someone is scared of him, which is sad, — or the smith that Katar killed was joking, when he said that he was afraid of Atcham.)

What follows is the most important scene I have for characterizing Atcham:

"The... the six Dofus. You have reunited the six Dofus! And what are you planning to do with them? Do you have an idea already?" "They intend to defeat Cornu Mollu."

If I speak on Cornu Mollu, this post will devolve into a 5-hour lecture on how much I hate the Twelve gods, — how Oropo "Did Nothing Wrong", — and how Sadida, Iop, and Ecaflip in particular need to be [VIOLENT LANGUAGE OMITTED] for the things they have done. Let's just say that he's a demon guy who rules Brakmar at the time of manga, ok?

"You guys are comedians. PHAHAHA! The guy is stronger than a god... And your Dofus can't change that! And his armies have only continued to expand — they're invincible."

Atcham laughs them out of town like clowns for thinking they can defeat Cornu Mollu. Which is more than understandable. But it is interesting, how he speaks of Brakmar here... Not very patriotic, he.

"I wish you courage in your collective suicide. As for me, I'm going to find myself a little island, hoping to escape all this!"

The thing about Atcham, is that mostly, he just cares about himself, and the things he likes.

He doesn't care about the city he's in, — outside the fact that his brother is on the opposing side. He doesn't care about the world, or saving it, — because the world certainly hasn't cared about him!

And he WILL flee, if it saves his skin from any unnecessary pain or danger.

What he cares about is his own damn self, because nobody else is going to.

For this reason, his personal moral compass is entirely dependent on saving his own skin, because he has only ever had himself to rely upon. He tries not to be too cruel, — yet, if the mood strikes him, he becomes hyperviolent just for the sake of fun.

But the thing about him is that he will leave, if things aren't going well. He won't stay.

This includes fleeing Brakmar at the first sight of trouble. And chances are, it also has, multiple times, included Joris and Kerubim after the movie.

While I will go more in detail on this later, sometime after Leorictus's nightmare reign and Joris's huppermage horror beyond our comprehension, Atcham has left Kerubim and Joris to return to Brakmar's side.

As far as I am aware, it is not because of some deep falling out, — they still seem to love one another. Kerubim has an instance of mentioning Atcham, in a pretty teasing manner, — and in the quest that involves catching him for his crimes, Kerubim comes to bail him out with a defense attorney speech at the ready to explain away why the atrocities are both a misunderstanding and completely justified, — but the thing is that Atcham left them, and began doing weird stuff, like crimes. In Kerubim's own Ecaflipus temple.

My personal thought is that Atcham keeps leaving because he's scared.

He cares a lot, — because they're the first people to ever care about him, and it drives him crazy how little they care for themselves. It hurts seeing them in pain.

Leorictus's reign probably was hard, emotionally speaking, — Joris wasn't even legally allowed to live in Bonta, or anywhere else, as a huppermage, — and yet, in Dofus MMO, judging from NPC dialogue about how Kerubim only moved back to Astrub somewhat recently,

— and Joris's presence in the game before the implementation of Huppermages as a class (I.E. their return from Rok Island), all signs point to the fact that this whole time, as Huppermages fled to Rok Island, — The Trio stayed in Bonta despite the danger, for some insane fucking reason. Probably heroism. Probably trying to save people. (people who have read my fic Fragile will uhh. Recognize this premise. Yeah. I think a lot about this all. To the point of writing a fic about this insane era of their lives.)

I think Atcham hates how responsible he feels for them, and the batshit insane things, — heroism? saving the world?! helping other people?!? self-sacrifice!?!? — they make him want to believe in, and how afraid he is of losing them. It is for him, to agree to do things he would never do before, for them, — and it's scary, just as scary as how dependent he is now, despite being ok with loneliness before them.

And sometimes, it's just too much, and too fast. So, he leaves, again, and again.

But on a positive note, I want to believe he is mostly over leaving them whenever he gets too stressed out, by Wakfu times. Maybe it's the maturity that comes with age, — or realizing how much they need him after Ogrest's Chaos, but I want to believe that he now expresses his frustration in other, more productive ways: herding these two idiots away from danger.

Ranging from: subtly insisting that Joris doesn't go on insane suicide missions all alone just to protect them (Just like Atcham, Joris's anxiety for his family makes him very irrational at times.), and trying to get Kerubim to always be ready for battles, while protecting him because he isn't,

To just plain having the willpower to tell the world's most stupidly self-sacrificial man "Did you consider that the floating eyes in the sky aren't any of our business? :)"

Which is pretty funny.

Anyway, yeah, Joris is not surviving the things Kerubim and Atcham will do to him, after he tells them that he went to something called "The Necroworld", almost got trapped there, and then almost died 20 times.

#ro liveblogs dofus #dofus #wakfu #krosmoz #dofusmanga #atcham crepin #atcham crepin the leaver of unfortunate situations....